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I try to keep up with the conversation but a lot of it I don’t really know what they’re referring to. I get the gist of it but I don’t know the specifics of what everything entails like everyone else clearly does.
I listen to Jane explain a radio contest that the label is going to host at nearly every stop of the tour. Apparently some very lucky fans will be treated to an intimate twenty person show with Hudson, then be able to take pictures with him and get his autograph after.
I try my best to keep my eyes on Jane as she speaks but every now and then I find my gaze jumping to Annabelle who seems to smile and nod at all the appropriate places but doesn’t really offer much else.
There’s something about her I don’t like. I can’t explain it. I mean, I wish I could say it has nothing to do with how pretty she is or famous for that matter, but I’m not sure that would be true. Honestly I think any woman in my position would feel threatened by someone like Annabelle.
She’s a couple years younger than me. Talented. Driven. And much to my dismay, extremely beautiful. Tan skin, dark wavy hair, bright red lips, green eyes that rival Emma’s. Not one part of her isn’t complete perfection and the longer I sit in this room with her the more inadequate I feel.
I’ve always been pretty confident and comfortable in my own skin but Annabelle, orAnnaas Hudson called her, makes me question everything I’ve ever thought about myself. I know it has more to do with Hudson than it does me but I can’t stop myself from feeling the way I’m feeling. I hate it. I hate every single second of it.
So much so that when Jane announces they’re finished, I practically run out of the room with no more than a quick wave behind me.
“Lennon.” Hudson laughs behind me as I make a bee line for the elevator. “Where’s the fire?” He steps next to me as we wait for the doors to open, dropping his arm around my shoulder.
“I just need some air. I’m feeling a little nauseous,” I say, not bothering to tell him that the way I feel has everything to do with the woman he will be touring with and nothing to do with actually feeling ill.
“Everything okay?” He cocks his head as he looks down at me.
“Yeah. I’m fine. My stomach just feels off.”
“Okay, well we can head back to the hotel and rest for a while if you want,” he offers, leading me into the elevator when the car finally arrives.
“No, that’s okay. We leave tomorrow and I don’t want to ruin our last day here. I’ll be fine as soon as I get some fresh air.” I force a smile, willing myself to hold my shit together and not let perfect Annabelle get inside my head.
“Maybe we can go around the block and get a drink at Pipers. They have the best coffee in Nashville but they also have tea and smoothies too.”
“Yeah, that sounds good.” I take his hand and allow him to lead me through the first floor and out into the beautiful September afternoon.
The warm air feels amazing on my face but does very little to soothe the knot in my stomach that meeting Annabelle caused.
The sad thing is, the poor woman didn’t do anything wrong. Just her sitting there looking all perfect got me so psyched out I was ready to run for the hills.
“You sure you’re okay?” Hudson asks, tucking me into his side as we head down the sidewalk away from Red Saw Records and the goddess inside.
“Yeah.” I snuggle into him, refusing to let one woman completely derail the perfect train I’ve been riding on recently.
Hudson waits until we’re tucked away at a small round table in the corner of Pipers–a trendy coffee shop not far from the main strip–before he says anything else on the matter, clearly sensing the shift in my mood.
“Now are you going to tell me what’s really bothering you or are you just going to keep insisting that everything is fine?” he asks, taking a drink of his coffee.
“Everythingisfine.”
“Please don’t lie to me, Lennon. I can clearly see something is off. Tell me what it is.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?” he questions, studying me curiously.
“Because you’ll think I’m just being a typical woman. Making something out of nothing.”
“Ah, I see.” He nods like suddenly it all makes sense.
“You see what?” I can’t help the slight irritation that tinges my voice.
“You’re worried about Annabelle.” He hits the nail right on the head.
“Is it that obvious?” I snip.
