A Lie for a Lie (All In, #1)(47)
His smile drops. “Sure, of course. You can call if you change your mind. I have a bag of sweet-and-salty popcorn and some of that special mint hot chocolate you’re always drinking.”
“That sounds nice.” I push the elevator button for him. “I’ll call you later.”
“Sounds great.” He leans in and kisses me on the cheek before I can run away.
Thankfully, the elevator dings.
RJ is waiting outside the front doors for me. I glance over my shoulder, relieved to see that Walter is already in the elevator. He lifts his hand in a parting wave at the same time as RJ pulls me in for a brief hug. Walter’s smile slides off his face like an egg off a nonstick pan as he disappears behind the elevator doors.
“Friend of yours?” RJ asks, obviously referring to Walter.
“Yes. He is.” I adjust my purse. I want to tack on that it really isn’t any of his business, but I refrain.
“Does he work in IT or something?”
I frown. “How did you know that?”
He smirks. “Lucky guess.”
“Walter is nice. Not everyone is built like a Greek god and gets to be a celebrity.” As if I need to stroke his ego. Based on everything I’ve seen in my internet searches—which is all I have to go on, since I have no idea where the lies end with him—he and a good percentage of the female population of Chicago know how amazing his body is. I push past him and head for the coffee shop next door. I know the baristas here, and there are always a lot of regulars, so it feels like a safe space.
RJ grabs my hand. “Sorry. I’m just . . . jealous and being petty.”
I purse my lips and try not to let the butterflies in my stomach get the best of me.
RJ puts his hand on the small of my back, inciting another storm of butterflies. He also opens the door for me and pays for our coffees and pastries, although I order a decaf tea because I’m already having enough trouble sleeping these days without hopping myself up on caffeine at dinnertime.
He picks out a table in the corner, and we settle into our seats. I’m barely out of my jacket when two teenage boys approach us asking for autographs. For the next half hour RJ is bombarded every two minutes by another group of people asking to take pictures and wanting an autograph. Teenagers, college kids, adult men, and fawning women who rudely drool all over him with me sitting right there across the table. It’s incredibly overwhelming. And enlightening.
This is his life. This is what happens to him every time he goes out in this city. It’s what he knows, and I have to assume it’s much worse depending on where he is and who’s around him. I consider all the pictures I’ve found since I discovered his true identity, and a very small part of me can understand how difficult it would be to have a relationship that involves any kind of equity.
He would never know if he was wanted by someone because of his fame or because of who he really is. And isn’t that another question I don’t have an answer to? The man I was with in Alaska was kind and sweet and down-to-earth. But this . . . it’s completely different. And this is what his life is really like.
I move aside, unable to handle the number of people clamoring to get close to him, and allow his fans to mob him while I observe from the sidelines. RJ is gracious and accommodating and charismatic, but I can sense his frustration by the tic in his cheek as more people gather for selfies. Finally, once everyone has had their picture taken and he’s signed all the hats and random pieces of paper people shove at him—and even a couple of magazine spreads—he gives me a pained smile. “Is there somewhere we can go that’s a little less openly public? I should’ve worn a ball cap—it helps make me less identifiable.”
“There’s a park not too far from here. We could go there?” I offer. He can’t come up to my apartment. Not yet. Maybe not ever, depending.
I use the bathroom before we leave, and when I return RJ has fresh hot drinks for us in take-out cups. I don’t know what to think about this entire situation. Walter is nice, he doesn’t travel for work, and he doesn’t make a scene or get mobbed when we go out in public. And he’s been very accepting of my current situation and my obvious reluctance to get into a relationship.
I decide I need to just be honest with RJ—it’s really the only way I’ll know for sure what his real intentions are. If he can’t handle the truth, then he’ll disappear from my life again, and that will be that.
We find a secluded bench in the park down the street from my house. There are parents seated on the other side, near the play structure, but otherwise it’s peaceful.
“I’m sorry about that. I probably should’ve suggested we just come to a park in the first place. It’s not always this intense, but the season is starting soon, so we’re getting a lot of promo. I’ve been trying to stay off the media radar, but being team captain makes it tough.” He stretches his arm across the back of the bench, fingers brushing my shoulder.
“Can I ask you something?” I fidget with the sleeve on my cup, picking at the edge so I don’t have to look at him. He’s just so disarmingly beautiful.
“Yeah, of course.”
“I don’t understand why you’re so intent on pursuing me when you could have anyone you want. What am I to you, other than the woman you pretended to be someone else with for a handful of weeks?”