“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice somewhat snapping me out of my reverie.
“You’re real?” I breathed in a half question, half statement that he didn’t reply.
He tilted his head to examine me, making some of his hair fall into his eyes. He brushed it back with his hand and hid it under the beanie that covered his head. My eyes squinted as they searched his face, trying to catalog every inch of it. My mind wandered again to the breaking point that brought me here to begin with and my shoulders slumped, the reminder stabbing at my heart.
“What are you doing?” he asked, repeating his question. His voice sounded anxious, alarmed and my mouth parted in wonder. Did he care?
I swallowed back my sadness and took a shaky breath. “What are you doing?” I countered quietly, though my voice sounded like a shriek in my ears, making me cringe.
His eyebrows knit as he looked at me, his eyes reaching into me, trying to take something, everything. But there was nothing left to take. There was nothing left of me. He muttered something under his breath that sounded like, “Looking for you.” That’s what I wanted him to say, anyway. Either way, the sound of those three words, imaginary or not, made hope ignite within me.
“Jogging,” he said, moving closer to me.
My eyes fell over his body and I noticed he was dressed in sweats and a thin black sweater. He took another step closer, making my head swim in the mix of his sweet yet musky scent.
“Wanna talk about it?” he asked.
I tried to keep my eyes open, tried to widen them, tried to really look at him as he spoke.
“Huh?” I asked dumbly.
“Talk about it,” he repeated, my eyes followed his hand that signaled at the bridge, the ocean, the city of San Francisco below us.
My breath hitched and I shook my head rapidly in response, suddenly feeling horrified. I felt a strong pain in my stomach that made me clutch on to it and my breathing became faster than normal, my heart beating more rapidly, making me feel like I was swallowing it. My eyes widened, really widened and I looked at him, pleading something. I don’t know what I wanted him to do, leave me there to die or get me help, but it was the last thing I remember before I started seizing.
“Hey,” Nick whispers, rubbing my arms as if he’s trying to ignite warmth in my body.
I gulp once, twice, then a third time before opening my mouth to take a deep breath. “I can’t go back there. I can’t go back there.” My whisper trembles along with my body as he rocks me in his arms.
“What is it?” he asks, concerned, looking over my shoulder and out the window. “The bridge?”
My teeth clatter as I try to form a response but before I can say anything, Nick scoops me up in his arms and tucks my face into the crook of his neck as he strides over to the bedroom. He shuts the door behind us, not bothering to explain himself to the flight attendant that suggested we take a seat. He sits down on the bed, bringing me down with him, and lays down sideways so that we’re facing each other. I keep my eyes closed while he pushes my hair away from my tear-streaked face before running his fingertips over my tears and wiping them away.
“Brooklyn” he says, his raspy voice sounding like a plea that I can’t deny. I open my eyes to look at him and see the sad look in his eyes. “What happened on that bridge?”
I close my eyes again as new tears form. “I can’t,” I whisper.
The speaker in the room scratches and I blink my eyes open.
The pilot speaks, interrupting us, “I have to fly around for twenty more minutes, but please take a seat shortly. It can get bumpy.”
Nick’s worried eyes are still probing me. “Please,” he says.
I shake my head, begging him not to make me talk about it, but I know that if he insists I will. “Please,” I counter, brokenly.
He nods and I can see the pain in his eyes. “Come home with me,” he whispers.
I frown, wiping my face and the bridge of my nose. “What do you mean?”
“When we land, don’t stay in the hotel, come home with me,” he says, pushing himself up into a sitting position and bringing me up with him. He makes me feel like a rag doll, the way he carries me around and pulls me up like I weigh nothing.
“Where do you live?” I ask, following him back into the sitting area.
He chuckles; turning around suddenly and making me walk into his chest. I apologize dumbly, but he just looks down at me and gives me a lopsided smile. “I live out of a suitcase, but I have a place here. I have a guest room you can stay in,” he says, playfully tugging my hair.
I breathe in and close my eyes at his scent hitting my nostrils. “Okay,” I say. “I’ll go. But Shea’s going to be pissed,” I warn with a raised eyebrow.
He raises one back at me, no longer looking amused. “Does Shea have ownership over you?”
I scoff. “No! This isn’t the medieval times, you know?”
Nick nods and pulls me into a hug, dipping his head to my ear. “I like the medieval times, though.”
A smile tugs at my mouth, despite trying to be a hard ass. “Whatever,” I mutter. Nick laughs and grabs my arm to steady me when the plane goes into a cloud, causing friction.
“Let’s sit down,” he suggests, holding on to my arm as he leads me to the seat.
“So, San Francisco … you have to have a house in freaking San Francisco, of all places,” I joke.
He tilts his head to look at me as he puts on his seat belt and tugs on the longer part of his hair. “I grew up here,” he says.
“Oh,” I respond, nodding. “Cool.”
“Does that make me less cool, Valley Girl?” he jokes, poking me in the ribs, making me laugh.
“No, not really.”
“I’m going to wake Shea up and then I’m going to tell him you’re going home with me. Unless you want to tell him something else?” he asks.
It’s merely a suggestion, but I know he’s testing me, and even though I’m nervous to tell Shea, I don’t want to not go home with Nick.
“Why can’t you just stay at the hotel?” I ask, trying to figure out a way around this, even though it’s childish and Shea is not my father.
Nick shakes his head in dismay and lets out a breath as he looks away. When he looks at me again, he doesn’t look very pleased. “Do you want me to?” he asks, despite the look on his face.
I chew on my lip. “I think it would be better. I mean, everyone will be there,” I add with a shrug.
“Yeah,” he says, raising his eyebrows as if that’s exactly what he wants to get away from. “I’ll stay there if you want, even though my house is literally ten minutes away.”
I purse my lips, trying to contain my happiness. “You would do that? Stay ten minutes from your house for me?”
Nick’s eyes bounce all over my face and when he looks into my eyes, his blue eyes are tranquil and soft. “I would if you want me to.”
“Thanks,” I say, reaching for his hand and squeezing it, thanking him for so much more than that.
He flips his hand over and threads our fingers together, making my heart flop around in my chest. I shoot him a surprised look, and notice that he’s looking at our joined hands. “You’re welcome,” he responds, his voice barely a whisper.
“How’d you end up over there?” Shea croaks, groggily wiping his hands over his face.
I smile, untangling my hand from Nick’s. “You looked comfortable. Didn’t want to wake you.”
Shea blinks a couple of times, focusing his eyes on me “What happened?” He gets up from his seat and crouches down in front of me. “You were crying. What happened?” He narrows his eyes at Nick for a moment before leaning up and wrapping his arms around me. “Let’s go,” he says, straightening up and standing me up with him. The doors of the jet have been open for a couple of minutes, but we’re waiting for the luggage and our car to drive up.
“I’m fine,” I respond, shrugging out of his hold, though he doesn’t let me go completely. “I’m good now
.” I inch a little further away, feeling self-conscious about the attention he’s paying me and needing to put space between us.
Shea’s eyes move from my face to Nick’s in a glare. “What the fuck happened?”
“Not my place to say, bro,” Nick responds quietly.
Sighing, I back away from Shea completely and pick up my things. “I freaked out when the city came into view,” I offer, adjusting my purse on my shoulder.
“Fuck,” Shea mutters behind me. “I’m so sorry, Bee.” He wraps his arms around me from behind and tucks his face into my neck. “You should’ve woken me up.” His voice is remorseful, but the thing about remorse is that it’s one of those feelings that you can only selfishly welcome when you need it, and I don’t need it now.
“It’s fine. Nick helped me not go into full-on panic mode,” I say with a nonchalant chuckle, feeling Shea’s arms stiffen around me.
“Hmm,” Shea says against me, dropping his arms. “Thanks, man,” he says to Nick.
Nick doesn’t say anything, but his loud exhale brings my attention to him. When I turn around with a frown, I see that he’s watching me as if he wants to say something. I raise an eyebrow at him, but he just shakes his head dejectedly and grabs his bag and walks out of the plane.
“What was that about?” Shea asks, suddenly all perceptive and shit. It makes me want to slap him.
“I dunno,” I respond, shrugging as I switch my phone on.
We walk down the steps, grab our bags and head to the tinted black SUV that’s picking us up. One of Shea’s usual bodyguards, Darius, is waiting for us beside it.
“Brooklyn!” Darius greets with a wide smile. Darius is about six feet five inches tall and two hundred and something pounds of hamburgers. I would love to say muscle, but I’ve never seen any on him. He’s on the heavier side and has an intimidating look with his bald head and his black wraparound glasses. He looks like Laurence Fishburne in The Matrix, but fat.
“Hey, Darius,” I respond, walking up to him to bump his fist with mine.
“How’s life been treating you? Still no Boogie Downs?” he jokes, making me laugh. Darius has this running joke that when I have a kid I should name him Bronx. He’s a real comedian, this one. He has this whole, “And then you can call him Boogie Down as a nickname” spiel that further proves my “this guy thinks he’s a comedian” point.
“No, not yet,” I answer with a fake chuckle. I shoot Shea a look that tells him to please say something so Darius won’t keep talking.
“You ready, D?” Shea asks, catching my drift.
“Sure, boss,” Darius responds, turning back to the car and holding the door open for us.
Nick stands aside, letting me slide in first.
“I’m not riding in the middle,” Shea says, shaking his head before opening the passenger door and climbing in the front.
“You’re such a child,” I say with a laugh as Nick slides in beside me.
“Whatever, I got claustrophobia,” Shea comments.
“Sure,” I reply, still laughing and rolling my eyes.
Nick scoots over so that our legs are touching, making me hyperaware of his presence. Tilting my head at him, I smile. He nudges me with his arm playfully in response and I smile brighter. I can’t remember the last time I felt this comfortable with somebody, if ever. Even with Shea it was just easy in the beginning. Our relationship kind of jumped from friends to lovers. Thinking back on it now, I’m not sure we were ever really even friends to begin with. We definitely became friends afterwards, but before, I’m not so sure. It probably had a lot to do with the fact that we were never sober when we were together as a couple. Not once. Our relationship revolved around drugs and alcohol, and that in itself should have been a red flag for the both of us, but we were too busy trying to numb ourselves to care.
With Nick I just feel free, like I can be myself, but at the same time terrified of the depth of this feeling. The way butterflies swarm the pit of my stomach at the mere thought of him scares me. I’m scared of the feeling going away, I’m scared of it staying and him going away. I don’t have any experience with this and it freaks me out. I can’t even recall when Nick slipped through the barriers around me, but as I sit here looking deep into his eyes, I know I never stood a chance at keeping him out. When he looks at me I feel like nothing else matters.
My phone vibrates inside of my purse, snapping me out of the moment. I dish it out quickly to busy myself.
Nina: You there?
Me: Just got here.
Nina: You okay?
Me: Yeah
Nina: No breakdowns I should know about?
I roll my eyes but respond: Just one
The phone rings instantly and I let out a breath, knowing I have to answer.
“Hello?” I respond quietly just as Shea gets on his phone in the front seat.
“What do you mean just one?” Nina asks.
“On the plane. I can’t talk right now,” I respond, hoping she lets me off the hook for now.
“You with Shea?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“Did that dirty bastard try anything on the plane?” she asks, her voice deadly quiet.
I laugh. “Nope.”
“Humph,” she says. “Did anyone else go with you?”
“Yeah,” I say quietly, not wanting to say any more. As it is, I’m almost positive Nick can hear her loud ass voice since he’s sitting so close to me.
“Who? Gia the whore bag?” Nina asks.
Nick laughs, confirming that he can hear her, and I turn my face to look at him, my eyes wide in shock. He shrugs and throws his hands up in defense, still chuckling softly.
“No. Not her. I gotta go,” I say quickly, still looking at Nick.
“Who’s that? Shea? Let me talk to him,” she says.
“No. Shea’s on the phone. I’ll call you later, Nina.”
“Who is that? The Hen didn’t go with you, did he?” she asks, unwilling to let it go.
I groan. “It’s Nick. Hendrix is in New York. I gotta go,” I repeat.
“Nick ... the hot guy from the club?” Nina asks, gasping.
Nick’s loud laughter fills the SUV now.
“Bye,” I say and hang up on her without waiting for her to respond.
Nick taps my foot with his, but I turn my face to look out the window to hide my flushed cheeks. Damn Nina and her loud voice. She never fails to do something to embarrass me.
I feel the seat dip beside me, so I know he’s close. “You’re so cute when you blush,” Nick whispers in my ear, making me shiver. I hate that he has this effect on me and I really hate that he knows it. I push him back with my shoulders and glance at Shea, who’s turned slightly in his seat looking at us curiously.
“Shut it,” I mumble. “My cousin is crazy.”
Nick scoots away from me with a laugh. “The cat lady sounds like a smart girl,” he comments.
“Clearly, you don’t know Nina,” I respond.
“Clearly,” Shea agrees, shaking his head and facing forward again.
When we get to the hotel, we find Shea’s fans swarming the entrance, which isn’t surprising but can make it difficult.
“Oh fuck,” Shea mutters.
“Do we have more security?” I ask, suddenly worried for Shea. The last time I was with him and people found out where he was staying, his shirt was ripped off and he had scratch marks all over him. I was unharmed because I never walk in with him, but I felt terrible for him. Not to say that Shea doesn’t love the attention, because he lives for it, but I’m sure he doesn’t want to be all scratched up.
“Yeah, I’m driving to the back entrance, that’s where Carlos is meeting us. Don’t worry, BK, I gotchu,” Darius says.
“I’m not worried about myself,” I retort, my eyes bouncing to Shea, who’s turned sideways in his seat.
“I’ll be fine, Bee,” he says, giving me a reassuring smile, but it doesn’t calm my nerves in the least.
Nick’s hand
reaches out for mine. “Hey, it’ll be okay, we’ll create a fort around pretty boy so he doesn’t get mauled by his adoring fans,” he jokes, making me smile.
“But then they’ll go for you,” I say, smiling even though the idea bothers me even more than the one of them attacking Shea. I don’t know what I would do if one of these groupies ripped a shirt off of Nick’s back. I haven’t even ripped a shirt off his back, dammit!
Nick raises an eyebrow at me, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Would that bother you?” he asks, his lips twitching. I try to mask the emotion on my face by pursing my lips and rolling my eyes, but I know it would bother me. I’m sure he knows it would, and from the look on Shea’s pissed off face, I’m assuming he knows it as well. I don’t worry about Shea when it comes to me dating other guys. He’s been there for me while I was in “relationships”. He’s even gone as far as inviting them to go to shows with me. The look Shea is giving me now, though, confuses me. He turns around huffing as Darius parks in the back of the hotel, and I know this will be a topic of conversation later.
Nick pulls my hand toward him when Darius walks around the car to open the door for us. “Come on and whatever you do, don’t let go of my hand,” he says, helping me hop out of the truck. I nod in understanding and do as I’m told. There are fans on this side of the hotel as well, but they’re limited because of the barriers the hotel put up, creating a walkway from our car to the door. Shea pulls a Dodgers cap over his head and covers his eyes with his Aviator sunglasses, looking at me to make sure I’m fine and walking ahead of me when I nod.
Ducking my head, I press the side of my face into Nick’s hard back as we barrel through the flashing cameras and hoots and hollers from both fans and paparazzi. The three of us are standing in line to check-in when Shea turns to me and asks me if I want my own room or a room in his two-bedroom suite.
“Isn’t Gia coming tomorrow?” I ask, my brows crinkling.
Shea nods. “Yeah but she’ll have her own room.”
Catch Me Page 15
