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“The press release is all set. Assuming you still want to send it? There’s a lot of buzz around your duet earlier. Peter will be thrilled that—”
“Send it.” I toss the dirty wipes into the trash. The head of Empire Records should be satisfied that the entirety of this tour sold out in a matter of minutes. Honestly, if Kyle weren’t such a nice guy, I wouldn’t have agreed to fake date him in the first place.
“Sutt—”
There’s another knock on the door.
“Come in,” I say.
The door opens, revealing Kyle. He hasn’t changed since our performance earlier. His blond hair is disheveled and damp with sweat. And it does nothing for me. I might as well be staring at a Calvin Klein ad. There’s acknowledgment and appreciation that the sight before me is an attractive one.
But that’s it.
“Could you give us a minute, Suzan?”
“Yes, of course,” my manager murmurs before heading out into the hallway and closing the door. Probably to pray I’ll change my mind about the press release.
As soon as the door shuts, Kyle moves. I’m swept up against his firm chest and spun around.
“You were amazing,” he tells me. “I’m tempted to come to Madrid, just to see another show.”
I wait for his arms to drop, but they don’t. He pulls back to look at me, but he’s still holding me.
“I’ve been thinking.”
“Don’t hurt yourself.”
He smirks. “What do you think about giving this a real go?”
“This?”
“You and me.”
One hand drops to my waist, tracing the hem of my leggings. And still,nothing.
He’s teased this before. Touches have lingered. He’s kissed me when there was no chance of a photographer catching it. But I thought I was convenient. It never crossed my mind he might actuallywantthis to be real. And it makes what I planned to say to him especially awkward.
“My team prepared a statement, saying your appearance tonight was as afriend, Kyle. That we’ve ended our romantic relationship.”
His hand falls from my waist—the only sign that my words registered.
When he does speak, it’s not what I expected to hear. “He’s got one hell of a grip,” Kyle tells me.
I feel my eyebrows pull together. “What?”
“Your new guitarist. My fingers are still sore from our handshake.”
There’s a good chance I’m blushing. Which is stupid—not to mention inconvenient. “That’s…complicated.”
“He’s why you’re ending this?” There’s no anger in the question, just curiosity.
“He’s part of the reason,” I admit. “But I never thought this—we—would be more than a temporary arrangement. If I gave you another impression, I—”
“You didn’t, Sutton. We’re good. Really.” Kyle smiles, but it looks mostly forced. “If you want to ‘reconcile’—try this for real—you know where to find me.”
I nod, watching as he opens the door.
Teddy is leaning against the white cinder blocks that line the hallway, directly across from my dressing room. He doesn’t so much as blink at the sight of Kyle leaving.
