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Luckily, he didn’t seem super interested in too much ribbing on the short walk to my apartment, but hedidsay, “Tell Ky making his girl get her own ride from the airport is fuckboy shit.”
So I guess it was settled.
I was Ky’s girl.
Maybe?
I still didn’t feel great about the lack of communication from him, but instead of dwelling in my own head too much about it, I simply pulled out my phone and shot him a text as I headed up the stairs.
“The album preview was phenomenal, as expected. Proud of you. Good night.”
I stowed the phone back in my bag, slowing as I trudged up the last few stairs to get to the second floor. My back was hurting, my feet were hurting, and I was utterly exhausted.
At the top of the landing, I stopped.
“What are you doing here?”
Kyir looked up from his phone, probably reading my text. Exhaustion was clearly written into his features, but he still found the energy to grin at me as I approached.
“Waiting.”
“A long time?” I asked, feeling guilty now about not coming straight home, but… Ky had never come to my apartment before.
He shook his head. “Nah.”
“Where’s Shawn?”
He chuckled. “Incognegro. You probably walked right past him and ain’t see him.” He pulled himself up from the seat he’d taken in front of my door. “You proud of me?”
I rolled my eyes, embarrassed by the text now. “Is that corny?”
“It’s cute.”
“And corny.”
He laughed. “Yeah, but nothing wrong with that.”
I nodded. “You gonna tell me why you’re here… unannounced? After not hitting me up at all in the hours that have passed since the show?”
“You mad about that?”
I shook my head. “A little worried, feelings a little bit hurt, but… no, not mad.”
“Good. I told you I had you, right?”
“… you did,” I agreed, eyebrow raised. “So…?”
“So that’s what I was doing after the show, making good on that. I had a little meeting with Chloe McKenna.”
I smiled, thinking about Bianca’s suggestion. “Your PR team?”
He nodded. “Yeah. She suggested we… rip the band aid off. Do an interview, then go to a private island and ignore our phones for a week.”
My eyes went wide. “An interview? Kyir, I—”
“Don’t wanna do a fucking interview. I know, Brookie.” He chuckled, slipping a hand around my waist to pull me into him. “So we won’t.”
I sighed. “But… I don’t want to have hide, so—”
