When It's Real

by Erin Watt

  “What about April Showers?” Carrie protests. “He was with, like, a dozen girls while he was dating April.”

  I catch my lower lip between my teeth. How do I explain this to them without giving everything away?

  “It’s not always what you see in the press,” Oak says from the doorway.

  The two girls turn bright red as he approaches. When he reaches me, he slides his arm around my waist again, either anchoring himself or me. Maybe both.

  “April and I were friends. We did some stuff together but it didn’t work out. Sometimes the magazines and websites like to stir up controversy for hits and views. Touring isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. It’s a lot of work and the down days are often spent traveling from one location to another. You miss your family, your friends, even your own bed.”

  “That actually sounds amazing,” I tell him.

  We lock eyes. “You should come with me next time.”

  “Maybe I will.” I grin, but when he doesn’t grin back, I realize he’s serious. Going on tour with him as he travels all over the world? That would be amazing.

  “And on that note, I think I’m going inside,” Carrie announces. “You, too, Kiki.” She pulls Kiki off the railing.

  “But I wanna see what happens next,” Kiki wails.

  Oak’s lips curve up.

  “They’re not a television show,” Carrie scolds as she drags Kiki inside the house.

  “No, they’re better.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “We should go inside, too.”

  Oak’s hand tightens on my hip. “Do we have to?”

  My skin is too tight for my frame. Every sense I have is heightened. His fingers feel heavy against my jeans. The cool night air is tickling all my nerves.

  “How’d you do it? You and April?” I ask quietly.

  He answers without hesitation, knowing exactly what I mean. “We weren’t ever friends, despite what I just told your girls. We were two bratty kids who thought we deserved more than we got even though the world was pretty much on a platter. I thought she should do whatever I wanted and she thought the same, only in reverse. I wasn’t very nice to her.” He makes a face. “Are you going to hold this against me?”

  “No. I just wondered how you kept it all separate. Did you put April in the friend compartment and then take her out and slot her somewhere else when you needed to be...affectionate with her?”

  He places a thumb at my chin, gently pulling me around so that I have nowhere to look but at his face. “So I need you to look at me while I tell you this. April and I were never a thing. What you saw in public wasn’t anything more than the two of us acting in order to get more mentions in the press, more coverage. I was on tour and Claudia wanted me on the cover of something every day. April and her family live for that shit. There were feelings that got hurt at the end, and I didn’t see it coming because I thought she was a great actress. I’m sorry she got hurt. If there’s anyone who’s in trouble here—” he waves a finger between us “—it’s me. I think you know that.”

  “I’m confused right now.” I rub my sweaty palms on my knees.

  Oak drags his index finger along my lower lip. “I know, baby. And scared?” I give a small nod. “I’m scared, too. But let’s work this out together. Let’s see where it goes. We don’t need labels or words. We just need to be together.”

  I let my anxiety go in a huge rush of breath and reply, “Okay.”

  He squeezes my hip and then lifts me down off the deck. “So Matt sings, huh?”

  “You’re going to play?”

  “Why not?” He slides a grin toward me. “I heard it’s real popular with the chicks.” He slips inside before my punch can land. “Anyone got a guitar?” he asks loudly.

  Matt jumps up so fast that he nearly tips the table over. Miraculously, four guitars are produced, including one from Justin, who, in the fifth grade, slammed his recorder onto the concrete in his driveway and then proceeded to ride his bike over it again and again. The recorder was plastic and suffered no damage whereas Justin got his butt whipped by his dad.

  “You don’t even play an instrument,” I accuse.

  “I know. It’s for Ford. Just in case,” he says sheepishly. “I borrowed it from my uncle.”

  “This is a righteous instrument.” Oak swings the body of the guitar up and strums a couple of chords.

  “What do you want to play?” Matt asks eagerly. “I know your whole catalog. Even the new stuff.”

  The girls and I hide a smirk behind our hands.

  “I’m up for anything but my tunes. Know any Smashing Pumpkins?”

  Matt nods. “Yeah, I can play ‘The Everlasting Gaze’ or ‘Today.’”

  “‘Today’ it is. Where we doing this thing?”

  Matt leads the way into the living room. “You can sit here.” He points to the middle of the sofa. Oak takes a seat and Matt then positions himself on the ottoman right in front of Oak.

  “I’d be worried that Matt is going to try to steal your man,” Kiki murmurs in my ear.

  “He does look infatuated.”

  “Infatuated,” Carrie scoffs from my other side. “If Oak batted his eyes at Matt, Matt would be down on his knees so fast, the house would shake.”

  “Mmm. Nice visual.”

  “Come sit by me, baby,” Oak calls and pats the cushion to his right.

  “Baby?” Carrie and Kiki mouth to me.

  I ignore them, try to keep from turning beet-red and climb over a dozen people to slide next to Oak. He cants his body slightly so that his back is pressed against my side and the neck of the guitar is slanted away from us. The closeness of our position means I feel his arm move as he slides his fingers up and down the fret.

  The guys sing one song and then Matt leads them into the next. Pretty soon, they’ve moved on to 1D songs. Oak even sings a lower rendition of “I Knew You Were Trouble” by Taylor Swift, sending me sneaky glances the entire time that no one in the room misses.

  Oak singing to me in public is different than him singing in the studio. At the studio, he’s working. The songs are often cut off at the halfway point and then he and King will try something totally different. You almost never hear the whole song.

  But here, it’s as if every word that comes out of his mouth is some message about how he likes me, thinks I’m the best thing that has happened to him, that I’m saving him in some way.

  By having me sit by him, by him looking at me almost the entire time, he’s making a public declaration of his feelings. Something that W hardly ever did. The boy wouldn’t even wear his Vans that we decorated. He said he wanted to save them, but I knew then, as I do now, that he was embarrassed of them.

  But Oak has no problem singing about how happy he is to be in love with me.

  “Play one of your new songs,” I urge him. I know he’s insecure about his music, but it’s more amazing than he realizes. An appreciative audience like this one would be the perfect place for him to test out a song or two.

  Oak must agree, because he starts strumming the one with the bridge that neither he nor King have been happy with. “Yeah?” he says.

  There’s a chorus of yeses. Oak ends up playing half his album before he stops and admits he’s thirsty. A herd of feet trample into the kitchen to be the first to get him a drink.

  Oak’s neck is sweaty. Playing the guitar is a lot of work. I draw my finger down the middle of his neck. He shivers and then leans all the way back, resting his head against my shoulder.

  “What’s it really like, being you?” Justin asks. The jam session has broken down the barriers, and whatever rules Carrie and Kiki tried to impose have been strummed and sung away.

  Oak reaches up and brings my hand down over his shoulder. He laces his fingers through mine, settling our entwined finge
rs against his chest. “I can’t complain.”

  Meaning he won’t. He has so much it would be gross for him to say his life is terrible even if it can be at times.

  “What’s the best thing?” Justin presses.

  “Is it the girls? The girls must be awesome,” Matt says. He ducks when a bunch of Solo cups are thrown at his head. “What? It’s true, right?” he protests.

  Oak’s lips twitch. “Even if it was true, and I’m not saying it is, I wouldn’t disrespect Vaughn by talking about someone else. She’s my girl and the only one I care to talk about these days.”

  The words are so sincere that they make the heart of every girl here flip over, including mine. I grip his hand tighter. He thinks he’s the one in trouble? No way. I’m in it up to my eyeballs.

  He taps the top of the body of the guitar with his palm a few beats before continuing. “The best thing is walking out on stage and hearing thousands of people sing your lyrics back to you. You can stop, anywhere in the middle of a track, and they keep going. That’s incredible. I can’t even describe how it makes you feel. But in those moments, you literally feel invincible. Like you could fly based on their raised voices.”

  Matt looks disappointed at the answer, but he’s the only one.

  “What’s the hardest thing?” Carrie asks, handing Oak a glass of water. I throw her a grateful look.

  “Thanks.” He takes it with his free hand, refusing to let go of my fingers. “I don’t get to do stuff like this very often.” He waves his hand around the room. “Everything is a production. If I want to go to the Rams game, I can’t sit on the fifty with Vaughn. My people have to call the Rams’ front office. We will need sideline passes for me and probably four bodyguards. On the sidelines, there are reporters, other people, and maybe in the first quarter, no one is asking me about anything but by halftime, someone knows someone else who has a sister’s cousin who wants into the music industry and would I care to hear the stuff. And those that aren’t asking about music connections are taking snaps and selfies to be the first to say that they saw Oakley Ford.

  “And as I say this stuff, I know I sound like a self-righteous pig. Oh, poor Oak, can’t do anything ordinary people can but tonight, hanging out with you guys, jamming with you, playing Frisbee in the back? It’s been awesome. No one’s bragging about tonight. No one’s treating me different.”

  Matt glances a little shamefacedly at the guitars.

  “Nah, I don’t mind playing. This has been great. But so much of the time when you leave the house, your guard’s got to be up and that isn’t great. It sucks. On the other hand, fans pay the bills and if it wasn’t for fans, I wouldn’t be where I am. So I’m grateful for all of it and try not to complain.” He slaps the guitar. “Now that I’ve bummed you out, how about we play a couple more songs before I take my girl back home?”

  Matt readily takes up his guitar again and Oak reluctantly releases my hand and sits up.

  I know he’s doing this because he wants to, but this year that I’m with him? I’m going to watch out for him. I’m going to try to give him things that he can’t get because he’s Oakley Ford. Whether it’s space to hang with kids his age, whether it’s a reconnection with his mother, whatever it is, I want him to have it.

  33

  HIM

  lilbabyblue @Gracie33Dawson OAKLEY FORD WAS AT A HOUSE PARTY IN ES 2NITE!!!!

  Gracie33Dawson @lilbabyblue WHAT????? how do u kno?

  lilbabyblue @Gracie33Dawson my couzin goes 2 TJH. She got 2 meet him!!!

  Gracie33Dawson @lilbabyblue omg. *dying of jealousy

  I kick my shoes off and then collapse on Vaughn’s bed fully dressed. She stands in the doorway, laughing at first, but then her expression becomes serious.

  “What is it?” I ask as I make myself comfortable.

  “Are you...um...sleeping over?”

  The blush on her cheeks is so frickin’ cute I have to fight the urge to lunge off the mattress and kiss her. Instead, I prop my hands behind my head and say, “Do you mind? It’s almost three and I’m exhausted.”

  “What about Ty?”

  “He’s fine crashing on your couch.” Vaughn was surprised to find him at her house when we got home, but I wasn’t. Ty followed us to the party and sat in the Escalade until we were done, but I didn’t tell Vaughn because she would’ve wanted him to come inside, which I didn’t want. The dynamic would’ve been messed up.

  Vaughn bites her lip. “That couch is way too small for him. He’s going to be so uncomfortable.”

  I love that she’s worrying about my bodyguard. The girls I dated in the past didn’t give a hoot about the comforts of the “staff.”

  “He’ll be fine,” I assure her. “Trust me, he’s slept in worse places.”

  “Still. I’m going to get him some blankets.” Vaughn hurries out of the room.

  I hear her footsteps in the hall then the creak of a door opening. I’m too lazy to go downstairs and help her, so I just lie back and think about everything we did today. The barbecue. Seeing my mom. No, hanging out with my mom. That was surprisingly...fun. And that party tonight was awesome. I’ve been to hundreds of parties, but I can honestly say that this one tops them all. Vaughn’s friends were so laid-back, and that jam sesh was righteous. I’m feeling so inspired right now that I almost wish I was in the studio, laying down some tracks.

  But if I was in the studio, then that means I wouldn’t be in Vaughn’s bedroom. On Vaughn’s bed. I wouldn’t be smelling the sweet scent of her shampoo on her pillows, or running my fingers over the soft bedspread that she sleeps under every night.

  She returns a few minutes later, grumbling under her breath. “Is he always this difficult?”

  I grin. “Ty? Yeah. Why? What’d he say?”

  “He said he’s fine sleeping without a pillow. Who doesn’t need a pillow?” She sounds horrified. “I gave him one anyway, and a blanket, and I put sheets on the couch, so hopefully he’s comfy. I offered to leave the night-light on in case he gets up in the middle of the night, and he laughed at me for a whole minute.”

  I laugh, too, because the thought of Ty needing a night-light is hysterical.

  Vaughn hesitates at the foot of the bed. “Um.” She visibly gulps as she sweeps her golden-brown eyes over me. “I need to get ready for bed.”

  “Who’s stopping you?” I drawl.

  “I’m not changing in front of you. What kind of girl do you think I am?”

  My girl, I want to say, but I don’t want to make her more nervous than she already is. I know what she’s thinking—that I’m staying over so the two of us can...you know. But that was never my intention, and I’m quick to tell her that.

  “I can sleep on the floor if you want,” I offer.

  “What? No, that’s ridiculous. You won’t be comfy!”

  I fight a smile. “You have a weird obsession with other people being comfortable,” I inform her.

  “Gee, Oak, I apologize for being a considerate person. Fine, sleep on the floor like a dog if you want.”

  “Nah, I’d rather snuggle up with you. But if you want to think of me as a dog, I wouldn’t mind it at all if you rubbed my belly and petted my hair.”

  Her cheeks turn crimson again. She walks over to her desk chair and snatches a couple items of clothing off the back. “I’m going to brush my teeth and change into my pj’s. If you want to wash up, there are extra toothbrushes in the bathroom, but I’m using it first so you wait your turn.” She darts out of the room again.

  I sit up, peel my shirt over my head and toss it onto the floor. Then I shove my jeans down my hips, leaving me in a pair of black boxer-briefs. I realize that this is my first sleepover with a girl. I’ve never let anyone spend the night at my place or any of my hotel suites. I suddenly wonder if W ever slept in this bed and my hands curl in
to fists. I hate the idea of that loser sleeping with Vaughn, even if he wasn’t sleeping with Vaughn.

  “Oh.” A squeak sounds from the doorway. Vaughn’s gaze darts from my face to my underwear and then back up.

  “I made myself comfy,” I say, hoping the magic word—comfy—will make her stop fidgeting like that.

  It does. Kind of. She’s still blushing as she climbs onto the bed, but she doesn’t ask me to put my clothes on. She’s wearing enough clothes for the both of us anyway. Flannel pajama pants and an oversize pink T-shirt with the words... I squint...

  “I’m sorry, but does your shirt say Bennett Family Fun-Time Weekend?”

  She sighs. “Don’t judge me. It’s not my fault that my parents were dorks.”

  “Nuh-uh, babe. You’re the one who’s choosing to sleep in that monstrosity. Take responsibility for it.”

  “But it’s so soft,” she protests. “It feels nice against my skin.”

  I tug her toward me. “You feel nice against my skin,” I say thickly, and then I slide one bare leg between her flannel-clad legs and nuzzle her neck with my chin.

  She makes a breathy sound. “What are you doing?”

  “Holding you. Got a problem with that?”

  “I thought you were tired...”

  “I’m never too tired for this.”

  Her laughter vibrates between us. I love the sound of it. I love that I’m the one who summons it out of her.

  I groan in displeasure when she sits up. Oh, good, she’s only leaning over to turn off the light. Darkness bathes the room, but her curtains are sheer so there’s plenty of moonlight shining through them, illuminating Vaughn’s pretty face.

  “Do you want to get under the covers?” she whispers.

  My mouth runs dry. I cough. “Uh, sure.” I know that’s not an invitation to...do stuff, but it still succeeds in confusing my body. I angle my hips away to spare us both any embarrassment. She’ll probably freak out if she realizes I’m turned on.

  The bedsheets rustle as Vaughn and I slide under them. This time I don’t even have to reach for her—she nestles against me willingly, one warm hand resting on the center of my chest.