Aimee and the Heartthrob (14 page)

Despite the late hour, the night air was pleasant, but there was a breeze, luckily, otherwise, Miles was sure her warm body against him, while his grew hotter and hotter, would eventually give him heatstroke.

“So, what about
your
crush?” Aimee whispered, her breath fanning over his neck.

“What crush?” He smoothed the hair back from her face and kissed her forehead, her temple, the space between her eyes.

“Seriously?” She lifted her chin to meet his gaze. “So, what was all that on the bus, then?” she said with a smile, echoing his earlier question. “And in the kitchen? Seems like someone else around here might have a crush.” She touched a fingertip to his nose, tracing it across his jaw, over his lips, making heat pour into his stomach until he had to close his eyes and think of baseball, field hockey, cricket, the more complicated the rules, the better.

Crushes were kids’ stuff. What he was feeling for Aimee was unlike anything he’d felt before—so fast and intense, yet…natural, like it had been building since the day they’d met. If he told her that, would it freak her out? The last thing he wanted was to scare her away, not now when he’d finally woken up and realized how unbelievable she was.

“I don’t know if I’d call it a crush,” he finally said. “It’s more like, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for the past five days. When I’m in a band meeting…” He kissed her eyebrow. “When I’m onstage.” He kissed the bridge of her nose. “When I’m trying to bloody fall asleep at night, that’s the worst. And the best.”

“Miles…” She slid a hand up his arm, over his shoulder, resting it on the side of his neck. Could she feel his pulse skip and then take off like a galloping horse?

“If that’s what you call a crush, then yes, I have a major, all consuming, deadass-blinding crush on you, Ames.”

“You never noticed me before.”

“I noticed. But before, you never wore these dresses.”

She snuggled into him. “I had a growth spurt last year. I don’t like how jeans fit me. Dresses are easier.”

He ran a hand down her side, careful not to go too low. “Well, you walking around in these little things is basically entrapment. What do you expect it to do to me?”

In answer, she hooked her top leg around his. Miles’s heart slammed against his ribs. “You’re saying you’re only interested in my legs?”

“Just like you’re only interested in my incredible hair.”

“So conceited,” she whispered, playing with the front of his hair. “What are we going to tell Nick?”

His heart stopped. He sighed and slid a hand down her arm, interlocking their fingers, resting her hand against his chest. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t
have
to tell him.”

“Yes, I do.”

After he’d said it aloud and considered the potential repercussions, he knew this wasn’t some damn crush. He was falling hardcore for Aimee, and fast. Part of his brain was ecstatic at the revelation, while another part felt like the biggest dick on earth. Choosing to be with the girl who he couldn’t stay away from, couldn’t stop kissing, might mean wrecking the most important relationship of his life.

Chapter Thirteen

Aimee didn’t want to change out of her dress. Or wash her hands or shower or do anything that would take the smell of Miles off her skin. Her head still buzzed with it, even hours after they’d said good night, or actually good
morning
, since it was six a.m. when they’d finally parted.

He had back-to-back appearances with S2J, then a band meeting with their managers, and then some charity benefit tonight—their one and only evening without a concert all week. She tried not to be totally bummed about that. If there was a concert, at least she could stand in the wings like a creeper, waiting for that beautiful moment when he was drenched in water.

Yeah, why bother denying that was her favorite part?

After years of unrequited love that had nearly crushed her heart, Miles liked her. He kissed her and held her and said things she only heard in the cheesiest, most uber-romantic Seconds to Juliet songs. But finally, it was real. She’d dreamed of this, she’d even written about it in her fanfiction diary blog, but she never knew how truly amazing the reality could be.

After a while, she decided to shower and change after more than one person—including Marsha Carlisle—asked if that was the same dress she’d been wearing yesterday. Yeah, there was no way Aimee could tell anything about last night to Miles’s mom. She’d shrivel up and die of embarrassment.

After meeting Deb and some of the other makeup girls for lunch, she decided to hide out in her hotel room for the rest of the afternoon, which was a luxury, since they were staying in the same town for two nights. Still deliciously woozy, she was just about to nod off on the bed when her cell rang.

She hadn’t talked to Becky since she’d practically hung up on their FaceTime chat, and she knew her parents wouldn’t be calling until tonight. She grabbed her phone and checked the face. A number popped up but not one she recognized.

“Hello?”

“Hi.”

Butterflies burst free in her stomach and shot into her throat. “Miles!”

He laughed his musical laugh. “You sound groggy. Did I wake you?”

“No.” She rubbed her forehead and sat up straight on the bed. “I thought I could nap, but…”

“But every time you close your eyes, you see me.”

She put a fist over her grinning mouth, feeling giddy, girly tears prick her eyes.

When she didn’t speak, Miles laughed again. “Yeah, I have the same problem.”

Damn.

“Do you have time to nap today?”

“No. It’s jam-packed, but I have a short break now. We’re backstage at a telly studio.”

“Fancy. Hey.” She rubbed her forehead again. “How did you get my number?”

“Um, Nick.” He sounded guilty, and for a moment, Aimee felt guilty. “Well, not directly from him,” he added. “I asked Trev to ask Deb to ask Mum to ask him.”

“Trevin knows?”

“I needed someone to cover for me last night, but he’s cool.”

“Oh.” Tight tension released from her shoulders. After all, if Miles wasn’t racked with guilt about keeping this from Nick, why should she be?

“Whatcha doing now?”

“Just hanging in my room.”

There was a pause. “What are you wearing?”

“Miles.”

“Do you have Skype?”

“Miles, I’m fully clothed.” She glanced down at her long tank top that barely covered her hot pink underwear. “Well, clothed enough.”

“I want to see you—
your face
. What’s your user name?”

The second after she told him, he hung up. Her mouth was still in the middle of a word when a Skype invitation popped up on her screen. Less than a second later, she tapped the blue icon, stared at the screen, and held her breath.

“Hey there.”

OMG. His eyes were even bluer on her phone. How did he manage to look hotter every time she saw him? Maybe it was because she knew what it felt like when he touched her face, and kissed her forehead and mouth, and looked into her eyes until it felt like her bones were melting.

“Hi.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Cute.”

“Huh?”

He pointed at her face then up at the top of the screen. “What’s that?”

She went to touch her hair, but then remembered with horror that she hadn’t taken it out of the towel since her shower two hours ago. And she wasn’t wearing makeup. And she probably had pillow marks on the side of her face. She gasped, dropped the phone on the floor, and flipped her hair out of the towel.

“Aimee?” Miles’s voice called. “Where’d ya go?”

“H-hold on.” She tried to run her fingers through her hair but it was dry and crispy. No! She was a royal disaster!

“Aimee.” He laughed. “Babes, I don’t care what your hair looks like. Please pick up the phone. Ames? Earth calling Aimee Bingham.”

Because there wasn’t anywhere for her to hide, she exhaled, reached for her cell, and closed her eyes. “Yup.”

When there wasn’t a reply, she opened her eyes to see Miles’s pixilated face motionless on the screen. Aimee thought maybe the app had frozen, until his mouth fell open. “Whoa.”

“What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Her tummy flipped, still not used to hearing Miles tell her such things. She smiled and looked down at her lap. “No, I’m not.”

“Completely. Well, dammit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I just really,
really
wish I wasn’t stuck here right now.” He tilted his head. “Hey, what’s that on your cheek?”

She touched the tips of her fingers to her face. “Where?”

“A little higher. Right there.”

“What is it?”

When he grinned, his eyes crinkled. “I believe that’s the one spot on your face I didn’t kiss last night. What I’d give to be with you to remedy that.”

She melted. Again.

“You should put that in a song.”

“Maybe I will.” He laughed, and his face wobbled on the screen as he walked. “So, what’ve you got going the rest of the day?”

“Catching up on my vlog.”

“I didn’t know you were a blogger.”

“For a few years. I started out blogging but now Becky and I vlog mostly, when we have reviews and things like that; we trade off. She’s been sick and I’ve been here, so it’s kind of fallen by the wayside.”

“What kinds of things do you review? Books?”

She nodded. “And movies and music.”

“Have you reviewed S2J?”

Aimee’s mind flashed to that
other
blog—the one she used to keep. Not only had she “reviewed” Miles Carlisle, but she’d started that fanfiction diary. It was totally immature, especially now that she knew what it was really like to be with him. Good thing she hadn’t posted there in two years and had Becky bury it deep in the blogosphere.

“Um, no.” She rubbed her nose. “We haven’t.”

“Why not?”

She was quiet, not knowing how to reply.

“Oh,” Miles said. “Because of what Nick said back then. That really hurt your feelings. I’m so sorry, Aimee.”

She was warmed and caressed by the sincerity in his voice. “It’s okay, I know that’s not how it went down.”

“I seriously wanna kick Nick’s arse. You’ve no idea.”

“That’s so sweet.”

He rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say it to be
sweet
. If the guy wasn’t my best mate in the world, we’d have a major problem. Though I guess I can’t be mad that he was trying to protect you or whatever. Anyway, I only have a few more minutes, and Ryder’s giving me his infamous stink eye.” Miles turned his phone around to scan the room. Will was doing jumping jacks, Trevin waved at the screen, and Aimee waved back.

Ryder came into view, all black leather and long hair. “Who’s that?” he snapped.

“No one.” Miles flipped the phone back to him. “Carry on with your manly brooding.” His image pinballed across the screen again as he walked to another part of the room, then out into a hallway. “I have to go, but I was wondering what you’re doing tonight.”

“Do you have it off after all?”

“Nah. We’re doing this charity thing. VIPs only. It’s all-acoustic, a revamp of the old school
Unplugged
, special set list.”

“Sounds amazing.”

“I’m glad you think so.” Miles smiled, a heartthrobby one. “’Cause I got a ticket for you. A car will be in front of the hotel in two hours.”

…

Even when a sobbing fangirl nearly tore out a chunk of Miles’s hair, the meet and greet before
Unplugged
went by in a flash. He hadn’t been this nervous before a show in ages. The set list was more difficult, technically, and he’d be playing guitar for more than just one song this time.

But that wasn’t what made him jittery. It was knowing Aimee would be in the audience.

Eight months ago, the show had sold out in five minutes. It wasn’t too difficult to snag another ticket, though Miles hadn’t told LJ who it was for. The audience was fewer than a hundred, meant to give an intimate ambiance.

Everyone seemed extra nervous. Will and Nate were in the corner going over last-minute harmonies of “The One,” Ryder was doing wall pushups, and Trev was bouncing on the balls of his feet. LJ popped into the room and gave the ten-minute warning.

Miles was dying to take a peek at the audience, curious to know exactly where Aimee was sitting. She’d been so excited when he’d told her about the surprise ticket. Funny, a few days ago, he worried that she hated S2J and hated him.

And now, he was pretty damn stoked to discover she’d been a fan from the very beginning—with homemade signs at the back of the Pali High auditorium—before he’d even deserved a superfan. Besides his mum, that brown-eyed goddess’s opinion had become the most important to him.

“What are you smiling at?”

Miles blinked and looked at Trevin. “Nothing.”

“Dude, you’re like, twitterpated.”

He rolled his eyes and pushed up the sleeves of his jacket. “Naw, this is a big night.”

Trevin elbowed him. “Sure is, buddy.”

Their stripped-down backup band, along with a twelve-piece string orchestra, was already onstage, and Miles joined Seconds to Juliet in their traditional hands-in-the-center, preshow circle. “
Three, two, one, crush it!
” they chanted together, then burst apart.

A jolt of adrenaline shot through Miles’s bloodstream as he and the lads rushed onstage, each taking their place on a tall barstool in front of a row of vintage-looking standing mikes. The room was no bigger than a school cafeteria, but the acoustics during sound check had been brilliant.

The whole vibe was throwback Las Vegas. The guys wore matching black suits, but with a different colored shirt underneath. Nate had on a bow tie, Ryder’s purple shirt was open four buttons down, Trev’s yellow shirt was extra-long so its tails hung below his jacket. Will’s oversized collar was outside his jacket lapels, looking very seventies.

Miles was dressed the most conservatively, but he preferred the classy, Sinatra style. His light blue shirt was complemented by a dark blue tie. His shoes were buffed and his hair was combed back with gel instead of spiking.

He should’ve felt confident, but nerves made his hands shake and a pit form in his stomach…until he looked through the blinding spotlight and saw Aimee in the second row. Her hair was probably shiny and she was no doubt wearing a dress, but Miles was only conscious of her face, her smile, her eyes on him. And suddenly—just like that day on the stage at school—because of Aimee Bingham, his nervousness disappeared.

They went right into their first song, a ballad that had been cut from their album but always sounded good live. The harmonies were rich and the room was Broadway show quiet besides their voices. During songs like this, Miles liked to be a performer, to choose three or four girls in the audience to serenade.

Tonight, there was only one, and he didn’t have to pretend. His eyes locked on Aimee’s. It was like the words to the song were written especially for them as he sang to the only girl in the room. In fact, he got so into it that he missed the cutoff at the end, forgetting they’d taken out the extra coda.

Always the over-performer, he played it off, enjoying the chance to interact with the audience. “Sorry, fellas.” He turned to his bandmates and lifted a sheepish grin. “Guess you caught me daydreaming there.”

“He’s always like this,” Trev chimed in, making the audience laugh.

“But he’s worse tonight,” said Nate. “Don’tcha think?”

Miles chuckled and tugged at his collar. “Yeah, sorry. I’ve been severely knackered today ’cause”—he couldn’t help looking directly at the stunning brunette in the second row—“I didn’t get
any
sleep last night.”

Despite every wise, rational thought, he held eye contact with her and winked.

The room fell silent, until Trev grabbed a mike and went on to welcome the audience and introduce the band. Miles snuck another glance at Aimee, hoping the wink hadn’t embarrassed her. But what he saw was a glowing smile and eyes that matched. Everyone else in the room, the whole world, went fuzzy like they didn’t exist.

But since he knew he couldn’t risk screwing up again, Miles tried his best to not just sit there and gaze at Aimee through the rest of the set, which was a constant battle. Despite the more somber entrance, by the end of the show, the stools were gone and everyone was on their feet, confetti and balloons falling from the ceiling for the finale.

They weren’t supposed to mingle with the audience afterward, but Miles hadn’t had the chance to make plans with Aimee. Though he obviously should let her sleep, he couldn’t fathom not hanging with her tonight. Besides the concert and Skyping for ten minutes, he hadn’t really seen her all day. He was dying to touch her little hands and kiss that one spot on her face he’d been obsessing over.

The typical mad rush of post-performance was going on backstage. Miles figured if he could step into the wings for a few minutes, hide out behind the drum kits, and wait for it to clear out, he could find Aimee and then… Well, his mind sort of blanked out, though he knew whatever they did together would be damn boss.

Finally, he spotted her weaving through the leftover crowd, making her way toward the stage. He caught her eye and she smiled, but a second later, that smile dropped and a look of panic took over her face. Miles was one instant from jetting to her side like a torpedo.