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“Why is that?”
“Because your parents, aunts, and uncles agreed to arrive at the same time as you. The media and fans should latch onto them and let up on you for a second.”
My parents, aunts, and uncles are way more fucking famous than me and my cousins. It’s just how it is and how it’s always been.
The fact that they’d create that diversion for me…
I breathe easier.
“They’re kind of fucking awesome,” I say out loud.
“Yeah, they are,” Banks nods with that shadow of a smile. He finishes knotting my other shoelace, and we stand up together.
Akara nods to us. “Our turn.”
On our way out, I grab my apple-red trench coat, and as I start to slip my arm in a sleeve, Akara catches my wrist. “You can’t wear that, Sulli.” He hardly blinks.
“I can’t wear a coat?” I frown, confused. “It’s cold out tonight, Kits. This is a sleeveless dre—”
“It’s red,” Akara cuts me off. For a second I expect him to make a Red Riding Hood reference, but he explains, “You’ll stand out in a crowd like a neon light, which is not how you slip past paparazzi.”
I never really considered that before.
I never really needed to. I haven’t been “of interest” enough to paparazzi to be a focal point that needs shading. Until now.
The trench coat is the nicest I own. “I think I might have a different jacket.” Minutes later, I return with an old parka, sportier and blue. “Is this okay, Kits?”
“Better.”
Banks has two fingers to his earpiece, listening to comms. Seeing them so vigilant and single-focused on security is ramping up my adrenaline but also reminding me that they’ll keep me safe. They’re keeping me safe.
Everything is fine.
Everything is okay.
I try to calm my fucking nerves as we ride the elevator down and then leave through the high-rise’s private parking deck. Secured.
Banks buckles into the driver’s seat of a black Range Rover. A security vehicle. I snap my seatbelt into the backseat, and Akara adjusts the passenger seat. He fits dark Clubmaster’s over his eyes and passes Banks a pair of darker Wayfarer’s.
It’s nighttime.
But I’ve seen bodyguards slip on sunglasses to block camera flashes at night before. Just…rarely, and not solely because of my fame.
“You okay?” Akara keeps asking me.
I nod, feeling alright. “Just a tad nervous.”
“This initial part might be intense,” Akara warns. “But it’ll be way better after, I promise.” His assured voice soothes me.
I try to nod back again, but my head feels heavy. I zip up my jacket. “Let’s go.”
Banks turns the ignition. Driving down to the ground level of the parking deck, anticipation surges in my body, and we wait for a second as the gate lifts. City lights and the night should be on the other side, but as the gate disappears, all I see are bright, piercing flashes.
I sink lower in my seat.
Cameras go off more as Banks tries to pull onto the Philly street.
“Speed up,” Akara says.
Banks jerks to a stop, gripping the steering wheel tight. “Can’t. There’s a shitbag standing in the middle of the street.” How can he even see that?
Akara begins to roll down the window.
“No, Kits!” I yell at him, crashing forward to grab his suit jacket, but the seatbelt locks and jerks me backwards. Fuck. I don’t want anyone to hurt him.
His deep brown eyes hit mine. “I’ll be fine, Sul.”
“SULLIVAN! LOOK HERE, SULLIVAN!”
My pulse hammers in my ears against the caustic screams and shouts of paparazzi. With the window an inch down, I hear them even clearer.
“SULLIVAN! IS IT TRUE?! SULLIVAN!”
“ARE YOUR BODYGUARDS YOUR BOYFRIENDS?!”
“LOOK HERE! LOOK HERE! LOOK HERE!”
“Sulli, Sulli,” Akara calls, his sunglasses off.
I’m panicked, staring at the flashes and screams, but I return to his reassuring eyes.
“I’m your friend. I’m your boyfriend. But before those two things came true, I’ve been your bodyguard, and I have to protect you.” He unsnaps his seatbelt. “They’re not going to hurt me.”
The SUV hasn’t budged, and I trust him. In all the fucking times he’s kept me safe. In all the ways that I know he will.
“Come back to me, Kits.”
He offers a classic Kits smile, sparkling his eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of anything else.” And then he exits.
“BACK UP! BACK THE FUCK UP!” Akara sneers. “We’re leaving, and you can’t stand in the way of the fucking car.”
“ARE YOU DATING SULLIVAN MEADOWS?!”
Please don’t hurt him.
Don’t hurt him.
A thousand dangers stand outside. I’m not the only one they want.
“KITSULLI!” I hear with a shrill shriek.
“WHERE’S BANKS?!” someone else screams.
“NOW!” Akara shouts, then the door opens. With fucking haste, he slips back into the passenger seat and smashes the door shut, sunglasses back on. “Go with instinct.”
Banks slams on the horn.
People scatter, but the cameras flash feverishly, more incessantly. I shield my eyes with my hand. Spots dance in my vision. And then Banks floors it.
