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“But keep it basic,” I plead, not wanting Laken’s privacy violated more than it already is. “Except when ensuring he knows we’re not in a relationship.” I drift my eyes to Laken standing outside the limousine as he pushes back the men and women who could ruin us before we truly start if they share the photographs they recently snapped of Knox and me with the world. “I like him.”
So much so I don’t want him to ever experience the guilt he felt this morning when he thought he’d betrayed his friend.
When Laken opens the limousine door, Knox makes it seem as if our conversation during the commute was nowhere near as serious as it was. “Likelike? Orlikelike?”
I roll my eyes at the immaturity in his voice before accepting Laken’s hand to assist me out of the stretched town car. Then I match its childishness when the briefest connection of our hands sends shockwaves darting down my spine. “Ilike likehim.”
28
LAKEN
Nicole has endured back-to-back interviews today, yet she looks as alive and hopeful during her final one as she did the first five. The radio hosts love her, and although she’s had to handle an unfair share of narrow-minded questions about Rise Up, she breezed over them as she did during Emanual’s interview before securing her audience’s utmost devotion with her impressive vocal range.
The perfection behind her performances today has left many breathless.
The woman I met on the rooftop is the same woman the public are falling in love with. A down-to-earth and extremely beautiful individual with a country twang to her voice even though she’s never stepped foot in the South.
They want the real Nicole—the raw Nicole—and the footage I uploaded to YouTube to counterbid the false claims of the keyboard warriors offered the perfect introduction.
Now she’s sealing the deal one interview at a time.
I am as proud of her as I was of River when one disc jockey commented that Nicole’s album cover complemented her unique style and flair.
I just haven’t had a chance to share my praise yet.
Between making sure River’s tears were tears of happiness and shuffling Nicole from one location to the next, we’ve not had a single moment to ourselves.
That won’t be an issue in ten minutes. Nicole’s last interview is scheduled to end shortly. It is being held on the rooftop of a hotel that’s become a global sensation since it’s been viewed over three hundred million times on YouTube in the past twenty-four hours alone, so any words we exchange won’t be done in front of an audience.
The executive producer of the number-one radio station in the country thought the rooftop of our hotel was the prime spot to host their interview with Nicole.
They couldn’t have been wiser.
The home-like setting squashes the nerves that occasionally bubbled up as Nicole was whipped from one studio to the next, and the acoustics are so on point, the co-host’s microphone picks up my swallow when she asks Nicole about her love life.
“Is there anyone special in your life right now?” asks a lady with glistening green eyes hidden behind thick frames. “We always hear rumors about you with the Rise Up men, but they’re just rumors, right?”
“Very much so,” Nicole agrees, relieved that someone finally believes her.
“Even Marcus?”
Nicole’s laugh reveals her nerves are surfacing, but she locks them down remarkably fast. “Even Marcus. We’ve never been anything more than friends.” She furrows her brows before correcting herself. “We will never be anything more than friends.”
“Because there’s someone else you’re holding a flame for?”
The female co-host is good at her job. Her demeanor makes it seem as if Nicole is chatting to a friend instead of the millions of listeners tuning in to the segment, and Nicole is opening up to her more than any other interviewer she’s sat across from today. “Maybe.”
When Nicole drifts her eyes to the sheets of plastic pane the production crew placed up to lessen the traffic noise from the streets below, the road crew hover in close like they’re about to hear her sauciest secret to date.
This time, she gives them a snippet of her personal life they’re dying to see. “It’s fairly new, so I’m a little apprehensive to talk about it. I don’t want to jinx it.” A second audible swallow booms through the speakers that projected her earlier performance when she locks eyes with me, shyly smiles, then says, “It’s even more daunting since I don’t know if he feels the same way.”
“That’s the juicy sauce right there, ladies and gentlemen. Nicole Reed is in love.”
The whites of Nicole’s eyes glow brighter than the moon when her eyes pop open. “That isn’t what I said.”
“No,” the male disc jockey replies, “you moreinsinuatedit. But two plus two always equals four.”
“Unless you failed math,” the female co-host jumps in, laughing. “And she didn’t admit anything more than that her relationship is in the teething stage.”
