Reckless (Thoughtless, #3)(64)
Cupping his cheeks, I firmly told him, “Don’t do that. Don’t turn this moment into something you feel guilty about. I told you that I understand, and I meant it. You have to do what you have to do right now.” Grinning wide, I added, “And did you hear the reaction? The listeners loved you for you in there. Once your album is released, you can do and say whatever you want, and it won’t matter . . . because they’ll love you . . . not you and Sienna.”
My eyes watered as I stared at him. “You just gave an acoustic performance at one of the biggest radio stations in the city. Your single is going to be all over the airwaves soon. I am so incredibly proud of you right now.”
Kellan’s smile was glorious. “Will you marry me?” he whispered.
I laughed at his oft repeated question. Before I could give him my answer, the other elevator car arrived and Tory marched over with the rest of the guys. Wedging her way between us, she informed Kellan that he had more interviews to give and a plane to catch, so there was no time to dawdle. She did give him a few minutes to greet the fans outside, though.
Kellan was in his element as he chatted and signed autographs. Watching him talk to his fans, it was easy to see Kellan’s genuine affection and appreciation for them. He laughed as they screamed and giggled, agreeing to sign anything they threw his way, and posed for pictures with as many of them as he had time for. There were parts of this business that Kellan didn’t care for, but meeting his fans wasn’t one of them.
Just as Tory snapped her fingers and told him it was time to wrap it up, a limo pulled up to the curb. For a minute, I thought it was there for us, but then Sienna emerged from the building. The gathered fans erupted as she waved and signed a few CD covers on the way to her car. When she passed by Kellan, she gave him a long, lingering kiss on the cheek. “See you later,” she husked, just loud enough for everyone around to hear.
Kellan only had time to nod at her before she was whisked away. Kellan looked back at me and I shrugged. At least she hadn’t kissed him on the lips again. Maybe she actually would respect his wishes.
The next several days were a blur of traveling, fans, interviews, acoustic performances, and Taskmaster Tory. I couldn’t decide if having a handler was helpful or a gigantic pain in the ass. Everywhere we went she was right there, keeping everyone in line and on focus. Remembering some of the troubles Matt used to have when he’d solely managed the group, I did appreciate how difficult her assignment was—just wrangling Griffin was a full time job—but she had an edge of bitchiness about her that got on everyone’s nerves.
And she was constantly interrupting tender moments between Kellan and I. Consciously or subconsciously, she found ways to keep us apart while we were in public. Our short second of PDA in the lobby of the L.A. radio station was the last moment we had for a while. We didn’t even get to sit on planes together. But through the chaos, we still found time to appreciate each other. Kellan said we had to, otherwise none of this was worth it. I agreed. We passed romantic notes back and forth, and Kellan slipped me rose petal messages when Tory wasn’t looking. I wasn’t sure where he was getting the flower petals—hotel lobbies, street vendors, green rooms—but whenever he handed me one, it brightened my day. You’re hot, I love you, I want you, and my personal favorite, Marry me.
It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if Nick had instructed Tory to keep us apart on purpose. He wouldn’t want anyone catching on to the fact that Kellan and Sienna weren’t really an item. And that’s what the world firmly believed after Kellan’s L.A. radio interview. Combined with the photo of their momentary lip lock, the general consensus was that Kellan was “doing” Sienna; the gossip sites were smoldering with completely fake details of their hot relationship.
The buzz around them was so intense, I could almost feel the vibration in the air everywhere we went. Luckily, Sienna parted ways with the D-Bags after Los Angeles, so no more fuel was being added to the fire, but Kellan was still asked about her at every interview. Every time she came up, Kellan dodged the question as best he could. A week into the promo tour, the are-you-or-aren’t-you question was so predictable, that Kellan and I started laughing about it when we did get a chance to be alone. It was all we could do at that point. Roll with it, or roll over.
Leaving the last interview for the day, Kellan laid his head back on the headrest of the rented SUV we were traveling in. “I’m so tired,” he murmured. We were halfway through the tour, making our way up the east coast.
Resting my head on his shoulder, I grunted some sort of agreement. Endless shuffling around was surprisingly wearisome. I just wanted a hot bath, a good book, and a long nap . . . all with my very comfortable Kellan-pillow, of course.
Everyone else in the car was exhausted too. Matt and Evan were quiet as mice as they sat behind us, Griffin was sitting by the driver, snoring from what I could tell. Eyes closed, I halfheartedly listened to the radio. When a familiar song came on, I quietly started singing along. When I realized what I was singing, my eyes shot open and I stared at Kellan in shock. He looked over at me with a furrowed brow. “What . . . ?”
His voice trailed off as he heard it too. It was his voice coming through the speakers. Kellan twisted to the driver, leaning forward on the seat. “Hey, man, can you turn that up?”
The driver turned the knob and Kellan’s voice boomed throughout the car. I squealed into my hands as I bounced on my seat. Matt and Evan started freaking out in the backseat. Griffin snorted awake, heard his bass line playing, and instantly joined in the ruckus we were making. I couldn’t even hear the song anymore over everyone laughing and hollering.