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I send a deer-in-the-headlights look at the security guard.
"Everyone, back away from the door," he snaps, taking pity on me. He reaches for my arm, gently pulling me out of the growing crowd of reporters and fans yelling questions at me in rapid-fire succession.
Somehow, he manages to pull me free and bustle me through the door into the locker room area. One of the reporters tries to follow, but he shoves the door closed in her face.
"You're Laney Briggs," he says.
"Seriously?" I throw my hands up, glaring at him. "I told you that like fifteen times."
"Ma'am, you're the fifth person tonight to tell me that your name is Laney Briggs," he says, shrugging. "Chicks say all sorts of shit to get back here, no offense."
"I…wow. Seriously? They said they were me?"
He nods.
"I can show you my ID," I say, trying to be helpful.
His lips twitch. "No need. I think I got it now." He grabs the walkie on his hip and puts it to his lips. "Someone find Kelsey Lane, the publicist. Tell her I have Laney Briggs at entrance A." His gaze flicks over me. "And I need more bodies over here. We've got a mob out here, trying to get to Ms. Briggs."
"I don't even know how they know about me," I mutter, scowling. I thought people were whispering about me in the airport, but I'm paranoid, so I always think people are whispering about me in public. No one ever said anything to me, and I checked to make sure I didn't have toilet paper hanging out of my pants or anything, so I figured I was just being paranoid again. I guess they really were whispering about me this time.
His walkie talkie squawks.
"I'm on Ms. Lane," someone says.
"I'm headed your way," someone else says.
"How many people you need up there?"
"Three or four," the security guard answers. "It's a big crowd."
"On my way from B side," someone else answers almost immediately.
I pace around while the security guard coordinates with everyone else working security here tonight. I'm nervous. I've never hopped on a plane to surprise a man before. And I've never had cameras thrust into my face before.
I'm guessing the cat is out of the bag and people know that I spent the night with Weston last night. Oddly, I don't feel like freaking out about it. I'm kind of…relieved? Yes, relieved. I'm glad they know, and we don't have to hide. All day long, I thought about it. And every single time, I realized that I don't want to hide how I feel about Weston. I want to shout it from the rooftops.
I never should have asked him to hide it. I was just overwhelmed, I think.
"Laney!"
I spin on my heels to see Kelsey hurrying toward me with another security guard. I jog toward her, meeting her halfway.
"You're here!" she says, seemingly relieved.
"Um, surprise?" I scrub my hands against my pants, nervous again. "Weston asked me to come, but I'm dumb and I said no, but then I changed my mind. And then my plane got delayed and I couldn't get ahold of him, so he has no idea I'm here. And the game is nearly over, and I really need to pee. And there is a mob of reporters out there."
Kelsey stares at me with wide eyes.
"Sorry." I snap my mouth closed. "I ramble when I'm nervous."
"I'm glad you're here," she says, reaching for my hand. She squeezes it. "Maybe you can convince Wes not to kill Jackson Hurst."
"Did they get into a fight again?" I ask, my heart sinking.
"Not exactly," Kelsey says and then grimaces. "It's a long story. I'll let Wes explain it to you. But you should know…pictures of the two of you leaked this morning."
"Oh." I glance over my shoulder at the door. "I figured something like that happened. Is Wes very mad about it?"
