Page 73 of Never Forget

Jesus. There is no amount of fame that can prepare you for how to react to any fan, much less a very obviously underaged fan, who has half naked photos of you displayed on their walls.

I cough awkwardly. “Well, it is really nice to meet you…”

“Kayleigh,” she supplies.

“Kayleigh,” I confirm, holding out my hand to shake hers.

The next moment, I’m bombarded by various things to sign, declining to sign skin or any clothes currently being worn. I sign a coffee receipt, cups, shopping bags, a few shoes, and multiple phone cases before we move on to my least favorite thing: selfies.

I pose for selfies long enough that it stops raining, smiling and doing my best to convince myself that I didn’t get into this awkward situation by following a stranger who I thought had the same aura as someone I used to know.

“Alright, everybody squeeze in!”

I bend my knees enough so I can get in view of the phone screen for a group selfie. Someone, I’m not sure who, definitely touched my ass, but I can’t say if it was on purpose or not. The one who tattled on Kayleigh about her poster looks a little guilty, her cheeks flushed pink as we try again, this time with me holding the phone because my arms are longer. I narrow my eyes at that one and shuffle a little further away.

There’s another gasp, which I don’t even react to this time because it seems to be a regular thing with this lot, and then one of the girls squeals.

“Scott!”

Okay, here’s the thing—I low-key love that Scott was the one who was recognized earlier and that he seems to have his own fandom. I find it far more entertaining than having one of my own, having gone most of my career blissfully unaware I even had one. It’s Jesse that the fans go feral for, followed by Will and Ari, especially since they announced they’re together.

I didn’t consider it before, but it’s all their fault. First Jesse gets into a relationship with America’s sweetheart and has the most public love declaration of all time. Then Will and Ari decide to stop hiding that they’ve been bumping uglies since whenever—which we all knew, by the way. So now the fans are looking at me like, you’re next. And of course, the only person who gets close to me regularly outside of my bandmates is none other than my bodyguard, who the press routinely catch looking in my direction. He’s not looking at me any particular way though. That’s just his face.

Well, not right now it isn’t.

Right now, Scott is marching across the plaza with an expression I’ve rarely seen, much less directed at me.

His jaw is tight enough I fear for his molars. Rain has plastered his naturally quaffed hair to his forehead, and he looks like he’s deciding whether he wants to shake me like a rag doll or strangle me to death.

Instead, a young girl with glitter eyeshadow and more audacity than Emerson Keller assigning sleeping arrangements thrusts a phone into his hands.

“Would you mind?”

Scott stares at the phone. Then at her. Then looks at me and holds my gaze hard enough that I notice a vein in his temple throbbing in my periphery.

“Yeah, Scott. We’re just finishing up here. Would you take our picture before the rain starts again, please?” I ask through a wide, plastered-on smile, trying to tell him with my eyes that this is not the time or place.

“Sure,” he mutters.

Seven girls crowd around me again. Scott lifts the phone and takes the picture. Before he can lower it back down, another girl says, “One more! I think I might have blinked.”

Scott takes the photo again and then looks down at his work. “Nobody blinked that time.”

“Thank you soooo much,” the girl with the phone says. Then she grins. “Could you…”

“Can you do the eyes?!” Kayleigh finishes for her.

Scott blinks. “The eyes?”

“You know…” She demonstrates, widening her own eyes dramatically before looking at me with exaggerated devotion. One of her friends snaps a photo, I’m sure of it.

“Like the memes,” one of them says.

“Yeah, no. That’s not going to happen.”

He says it so flatly that the girls dissolve into laughter anyway. My lips quirk, having a hard time taking him seriously even though I know he really, really needs me to.

Scott snaps another photo, then hands the phone back without another word and turns on his heel. I try even harder to bite back a smile.