Bob manages one of his bait-and-switch routines tonight to prevent paparazzi obstruction, sending one of his less beefy cohorts—wearing one of my caps—out the front door with the others, while Emma and I escape straight into a waiting SUV out back.
As we’re pulling away from the hotel, I ask, “So, how long have you been running with Graham?” My tone is as nonchalant as I can manage. I am not used to this jealousy crap. It’s not that I’m trusting. It’s that usually, I don’t give a shit.
“Huh?” she says, caught off guard.
“Running. With Graham. How long?” I repeat the question one phrase at a time, my fingers stroking the back of her neck.
“Um, sort of on and off since we’ve been here.”
“Since we’ve been here in Austin?” I tip my head to the side. “Were you two already acquainted?”
The expression on her face changes. She knows where this is coming from now. She knows about the photos online. She’s unused to everything she does being scrutinized so closely. She clears her throat and swallows. “No.”
“So, you just started running together when we got to Austin, even though you’ve never met before, and don’t know each other at all.” I’m trying to sound merely curious. Fail.
“We both run early, and we ran into each other one time that first week, and the time goes more quickly to go with someone else...” she trails off.
“He’s a good-looking guy,” I say, watching her reaction.
“Graham? Uh, I guess so.” Her tone says, Oh really? I hadn’t noticed. Her eyes, widening slightly, says she definitely has.
I smile. Might as well lay it all out there. “What’s weird is that some of the fansites are posting pictures of you guys together. Saying you’re sleeping together.”
“What?” She’s good. I almost can’t tell that she already knows this.
“Weird, yeah?”
“That’s insane. We’re just exercising together, and that’s all.” I can hear both truth and lie in her words, and I’m not sure what to make of it.
“Okay. I was just checking.” I tug her closer and leave off the cross-examination, stroke my fingers along the side of her neck and kiss her. I’m not letting anything screw up tonight.
*** *** ***
Emma
Reid seems to forget what he brought up in the car, but I can’t look at Graham without recalling every word. It’s true, I haven’t been forthcoming about running with Graham every morning, but I didn’t think I needed to account for every waking moment. Reid never struck me as that type, and frankly that sort of expectation would alarm me, especially after the Meredith/Robby drama.
The kiss Graham and I shared was weeks ago. I shouldn’t feel guilty, but I do. There can only be one reason for that. I still feel it. It still means something to me, even if it shouldn’t. Walking into the club with Reid holding my hand, I’m determined to forget it. I can’t take that kiss, and these feelings, into what Reid and I will do tonight.
Production wants nothing happening to Reid that could cause a relapse. The bodyguards are sticking close, keeping him separated from non-cast people. The fans and photogs are forced to content themselves with drooling over him from afar. Every now and then someone talks her way past security and is escorted close enough to salivate over him at close range.
He dances with me a couple of times, pulling me full against him, swaying so slowly that we’re hardly moving. Mostly, though, he leans against the bar drinking, talking with other cast members and the occasional favored fan, and watching me dance. Every time our eyes meet, his look is pure fire, reminding me of our later plans.
I’m dancing with Tadd when I glance up to see Reid talking to Graham, who’s spent most of the evening at the bar in conversation with Brooke. At first, I don’t think anything about it, but then Reid gestures towards the dance floor, and though he doesn’t look towards me, my instincts say this exchange has something to do with me. Uh-oh. As the song ends and another starts up, I see that Brooke is at Graham’s side and all three of them are talking, and while they all appear under control, the antagonism between them is visible.
I wonder what’s being said, and how it will affect my relationships with either of them. Something is about to change, I can feel it, and I realize with blinding certainty that despite what I was thinking when we entered this place, I do not want to lose Graham’s friendship. I don’t want Reid to do anything to end it. Oh, my God.
I have no idea what to do. As I’ve done for more than half my life in times like this, I reach for my phone and start to dial Emily’s number, faltering when I recognize what my mental autopilot is making me do. Suddenly I’m overwhelmed with indecision and grief. As a new song begins, I leave Tadd talking to one of the extras and bolt for the bathroom. Bob points me towards a secluded VIP lounge.
I’m alone for the space of about fifteen seconds.
“Reid is following me,” Brooke says as she enters. “If you’re trying to avoid him, you’d better hide.”
Darting into one of three stalls, I click the stainless steel door shut behind me, put the toilet lid down, sit and pull my feet up. Before I can ask myself what I’m doing skulking around a bathroom stall like I’m in a bad spy movie, Reid enters. “Anyone else in here?”
“No,” she answers. “What, you wanna check the stalls? Be my guest.” I hold my breath, but she knows him well and he takes her challenge as confirmation.
“Just answer one question. Tell me the truth, if you can. Does Graham know?”