Aimee and the Heartthrob (17 page)

Miles cleared his throat and slid his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. He’d kind of forgotten that Aimee had pulled off his shirt. And for a moment, he relived the memory, feeling her skin against his, how fun and sexy and just plain amazing she was. And how mad-ass lucky he felt to be with her.

“Okay, I know I broke the number one band rule, and I really don’t want the others to find out. It’s a long drive to Phoenix, so we need your help.” He paused. “I’ll owe you big-time, mate. Anything you say. Please?”

For the next few minutes, Miles and Trevin came up with a strategy of how to sneak Aimee to and from places like the bathroom and kitchen for the next ten hours, all by cell phone tag team. But then they scratched the kitchen—which was too out in the open. Miles could bring her anything she needed to eat or drink. And besides, he loved the idea of waiting on her, feeding her, almost like they were in a real bed together.

“Sounds like a plan, Stan,” Trevin said, and they bumped fists.

“Thanks.” Miles raked his fingers through his hair. “Like I said, I totally owe you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I won’t forget.” He nodded toward the bunks. “Better get back to your headache remedy.”

Miles chuckled, then waited for Trevin to start up the game again. While the others were oblivious, he reached into his bunk, found Aimee’s hand, and carefully, quietly, pulled her out, trying not to stare at how her dress rode up to the very tops of her thighs as she slid out.

He pointed to the closed door of the bathroom, then made the play of stretching and checking his phone while blocking that part of the bus from anyone else’s view, coughing into his fist to cover the noise of running water. A minute later, she creaked open the door.

He grinned, watching as she tiptoed toward him, her hair still tangled, her red, swollen lips puckered in concentration. He held the curtain back for her to crawl in. Being a gentleman, he helped by cupping her bum and gently pushing her up, though maybe taking a bit too long to do it. When she was safely inside, she rolled over, facing him, her hair in her face, her cheeks bright red.

There’d never been a sight so inviting. He was about to dive in after her, when he considered the next few hours.

He held up one finger, signaling that he’d be right back. First, he hustled to the bathroom, giving his teeth a good brush. Then he dashed to the tiny kitchen area, grabbed a few items, and hurried back. He stood in front of the bunk, holding a bottle of water in one hand and a bag of circus cookies in the other. He lifted his eyebrows in question, and Aimee nodded.

For the second time that week, he stayed up all night with Aimee curled around him, wishing they were driving clear to the east coast.

Chapter Sixteen

“Headache gone?”

Miles glanced at Trevin, and shifted in his seat. “Yep.” He tapped his temple. “All good under the hood.”

A while earlier, in the wee hours of the morning, he’d managed to sneak Aimee off the bus and bundle her into the hotel. Luckily, and thanks to Deb, no one had missed her.

There’d been no time for a kiss good-bye, but they’d covered that in his bunk, anyway. And then some.

“Well?” Trevin said, reclining back on the long bench seat, fingers linked behind his head. “What happened?”

Miles waited to make sure everyone else was off the bus. “Nothing.”

“Dude…”

“I mean, obviously some stuff happened.”

“But you didn’t knock boots? And you were together all night?” He sat up and scratched his head. “How’s that possible?”

“I’m not Ryder Brooks, dude. We’re taking it slow. I’ve known her since she was eleven.”

“Oh. So the thought of gettin’ jiggy with her is weird?”

“No, not weird at all.”

“So you’re not
into
her?”

He groaned and held his head in his hands. “I’m incredibly into her. She’s all I think about. She’s perfect.”

Trevin laughed. “Man, I’m trying really hard to understand here. You’re saying you’re into this girl and she’s into you and you just spent twelve hours together in a space the size of a life raft but you didn’t get her naked?”

Miles shut his eyes. “That…would’ve been amazing, but no, we kissed and talked and…and hell, Trev, she held me.” He was making himself overheated just by thinking about it. “It was innocent and sexy at the same time.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Just like Aimee. It’s different.
She’s
different.”

“Ohhh, I get it.”

“Get what?”

Trev chuckled. “Nothing, dude. I just get it.”

“I want to give her something—a present. Something really cool and personal, something to blow her mind.”

“Aren’t you about twelve hours late for that?”

Miles rolled his eyes. “Mind outta the gutter, mate. Like, something so she knows how I feel, that I get her, all her quirks.”

“What’s she into?”

Miles considered for a moment. “She reads.”

“Hot.”

“It is, man. It seriously is.” He rubbed the center of his chest and thought. “She runs this vlog where she reviews books and music.”

“Did she review us?”

“No,” Miles said. “Long story. But she was telling me the other day that she’s got a list of books she wants to review over the summer. I should read them first, so we can talk about them—surprise her.”

“When do you have time to read a book?”

“How about instead of playing Call of Duty: Black Ops with you for six hours every day?”

“Harsh, bro.”

“You know I couldn’t wind down without launching concussion grenades at your ugly face at least once a night, but maybe every other night, I could read. Yeah, totally doable.” He rubbed his hands together. “She’ll love it. She said her last boyfriend didn’t take an interest in her blog.”

“Boyfriend? Is that what you are now?”

Miles grinned, feeling warmth in his chest, his stomach, everywhere. “I hope so.”

“Okay, then.” Trevin slapped his thighs. “I am a master hacker. Let’s find this blog.”

They both grabbed their phones and started to surf. Aimee had never told Miles the name or address of her blog, but if anyone could find it, it was Trevin. And after asking Miles a couple of question, he did.

“Pretty slick,” Trev said. “Cool specs. Wonder who does her graphics.”

Miles liked it, too. It was organized and clean, but had a classy, feminine touch to it. He could definitely see Aimee’s imprint over every inch. There were two thumbnail photos, one of a girl with red hair who he recognized as Becky, and the other picture was Aimee. Miles clicked on it so the image filled the screen. He rested his head on the seat and gazed at it for a while, lost in a very pleasant memory.

“Uh, Miles, we have a problem.”

“Is it time to go? Thought LJ didn’t need us till—”

“No. I think I found another of Aimee’s blogs. It was embedded in one of the pages and has a totally different template, I had to click like five tabs deep; it’s really hidden.”

“I didn’t know she had more than one blog. Does she review books there, too?”

Trevin shook his head, looking grim. “No, bro. It’s about you. Like,
all
about you.” Before Miles could sit up, Trevin texted him a link.

Miles opened it and read for a few minutes, not believing his eyes. “What is this?” he muttered blankly.

“Is she a stalker?”

“No. No way.”

“Then why is she calling you her future husband? Why is there a page devoted to your children? Why is there a whole page about your hair?”

Miles was seeing the same things, but it didn’t make sense. It was like Aimee was living in a fantasy world. Why would she write this about him…about them?

“These photos look kind of old,” Trevin said, “and there aren’t any dates on these posts; some blogs are like that. It looks like someone tried to delete it but did a half-assed job. Whoa, I hate to say this, but this is some messed-up stuff. It’s like she’s got your whole lives mapped out. She calls herself
Mrs. Wife-of-a-Popstar
. What the hell is that?”

Miles couldn’t suck in a full breath, each time he tried, his lungs burned and his diaphragm was hard as a rock. The more he read, the more gray mist of confusion filled his mind, while his body felt slow and heavy, like he was covered in tar. “I don’t believe this,” he said between clenched teeth.

“Dude. Check out the page devoted to different poses, how she’ll smile for the paparazzi when she’s out with you.” Trevin cackled and Miles’s stomach dropped, rolled. “This is the work of a serious whack job.”

“Shut the hell up.”

Trevin lowered his phone. “Whoa, don’t kill the messenger. I’m not the one who hooked up with a crazy psycho chick
again
.”

“She’s not a…” But he couldn’t make himself finish. Because what he’d been about to say wasn’t the truth. The real truth was laying in the palm of his hand, on the tiny screen, on the huge, far-reaching frickin’ World Wide Web.

Aimee only wanted him because of who he was—
what
he was: famous. She’d mentioned once that part of her blog was about celebrities. Had she been planning this—to come on tour only to get her hooks into him—all this time?

The confusing mist morphed to understanding, then betrayal, sending ice through his bloodstream, ice that felt hotter than fire.

He couldn’t believe it. He’d fallen for it again, with his eyes wide open this time, with his heart in his hands, held out to her, willingly. This hurt worse, felt heavier and blacker, than any tabloid BS he’d ever read about himself. And those had been written by strangers, not the girl he’d trusted with everything.

Aimee had looked him straight in the eyes and betrayed him. And now, she also knew secrets about his past. Nothing could stop her from posting that online. Maybe she was doing it right now.

Pain and a white hot anger he didn’t bother controlling pushed him from his seat, and he was out of the bus and running toward the arena. He knew she hung with Deb before the band got there, so he blew past security and headed down the hall.

…

Aimee had never had a one-on-one conversation with LJ before, which was why it felt a little creepy when they passed each other inside the venue and he asked her to stay behind for a second. She told Deb she’d catch up, wondering if now was when LJ would bring up what he’d overheard. Well, she had been talking smack to Becky, so maybe she deserved a lecture about watching what she said in public.

She had a lot to learn if she was going to be Miles’s official girlfriend. Whoa, just thinking it made Aimee’s mind turn to oatmeal.

LJ asked her about Nick, almost like he didn’t remember him, then asked her about school, even what colleges she was thinking of applying to.

“Good for you,” LJ said, leaning against a tall speaker on a dolly one of the roadies parked behind them. “You should know how lucky you are to have choices. A lot of kids your age don’t.” He chuckled, like he was thinking of a private joke. Even his laugh was creepy. But maybe he was just trying to be nice and get to know her, all awkwardly, like adults do sometimes.

“Take
my
guys,” he added. “They bitch to their friends about being busy and missing prom, but they wouldn’t change a thing about their lives.”

“I know Miles is really happy,” she said, just so she was adding to the convo.

“He told you that?”

“Well, yeah. He loves it. Of course he talks about college, too, UCLA. I’m sure he’ll get in, he’s so smart and good at everything. They’ll probably give him a full ride.”
And, he’ll be home
, Aimee added to herself.
We’ll see each other every day, no more long distance.

LJ smiled. But his teeth weren’t straight and white like Miles’s, and his eyes went squinty and got lost behind his chubby cheeks. “Sounds like something he’d say,” LJ said. “He’s definitely the daydreamer of the group, always wishing up new places to be, but he’ll never leave. Once you taste this kind of fame, it’s impossible to give it up.”

“Right,” Aimee said with a slow nod. “But everyone needs a break sometimes. It’ll be really nice when he gets to come home at the end of the summer.” She couldn’t help smiling. “He asked me to a school dance, but I’m sure he’s more excited just to sleep in his own bed.”

Having Miles at home again—simply imagining it made her so happy it felt like she could fly into the clouds.

“There he goes, dreaming again. I suppose he forgot to mention the extension.” LJ lifted his bushy eyebrows. There was more hair there than on the top of his head.

“Extension?” Aimee asked, wondering how soon she could leave to go help Deb, then wait backstage for Miles, then maybe pick up where they stopped last night. Imagining that made her grateful she remembered to wear a pretty bra.

When she could focus again, LJ was giving her a look like he was about to break the news that her puppy just died. “Oh, no. He
didn’t
tell you.” Another bushy eyebrow arch.

“Tell me what?”

His frown deepened. “Sorry, honey, but your boyfriend’s holding out on you. This tour doesn’t end in September. Hell, we won’t be done until way into next year, and he knows that; he’s known for months.”

Aimee’s stomach felt hollow and her hands went cold as she stared at LJ, not sure she understood what he meant. “But…he promised me…”

“Aww, don’t blame the guy for lying. He was probably just trying to draw out the illusion of living a normal life, having any kind of normal relationship when he knows better than anyone that that’ll never happen.”

The place in her stomach where the happy Miles flutters usually sat now housed a knot, twisting and churning and growing by the second.

LJ said a few more things—dates and locations and sold-out overseas venues—but Aimee barely heard. Before he left, he patted her arm, his voice dewy with pity. He must’ve noticed her eyes brimming with tears about to spill over.

With a stabbing pain in her chest, Aimee recalled the conversation perfectly, when she’d told Miles the embarrassing truth about Jean-Luc straight up lying to her first, then leaving her and going back to France, and how that had kick-started her whole trust issue. Hadn’t he said he understood? He’d even called Jean-Luc a wanker. Miles knew how much that hurt her, and yet now…he was doing the same thing, when he swore he wouldn’t.

She closed her eyes, as she felt the earth open under her, wanting to swallow her into its darkness. Why was this happening again? When she took in a ragged breath, her lungs gulped and shook, and when she tried to blink away the image of Miles, her eyelids were hot and gummy. Everything around her felt black and hopeless.

Roadies rushed by, maybe even Nick, but Aimee didn’t notice anyone. She sat on a crate with her legs pulled up, hugging and squeezing her knees, trying not to cry. How much time had gone by before she realized she was alone again?

But she wasn’t alone. A fist wearing spiky gloves squeezed her heart when she saw Miles across the big room. He was just standing there, watching her. Then he walked over, his slow, self-confident stroll. Seeing him made her want to burst into sobs, but she had to hold them in, even though her mind reeled from her little
chat
with LJ—the news, that apparently
wasn’t
news to anyone but her. Because Miles lied to her, and she’d totally bought it.

“Hey,” she said, cringing at the sad tragedy in her voice. She slid off the crate, meeting him halfway. His arms were crossed. Good. She’d get a chance to speak before he could say something sweet or kiss her and make her mind go spongy with love. “We need to talk—”

“Yeah, we do.”

She blinked up at him, her mouth still open, cut off before she could even start.

Miles shifted his weight, crossing his arms tighter across his chest. He didn’t look right. His face. There were no overhead lights in this part of the venue so she couldn’t see him clearly. But she’d been with him in the dark. She knew him, and something was definitely off.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her pain temporarily derailed at seeing his expression. He was probably distracted, worried about getting in trouble because of last night in
The One
. That perfect happiness seemed like a million years ago.

“I’m peachy,” he answered. “How are you?”

“Not good, Miles.”

“Maybe you should blog then,” he said, dropping his chin to stare at the concrete floor. “That seems to make you happy.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Look.” She fingered the ends of her hair, her heart lethargic and painful with every beat, like her blood was too thick to move. “LJ told me about the tour.”

“What about it?”

She really looked at him now, the lines on his face, the deep crease between his eyes. He wasn’t distracted at all. He was pissed off. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” he muttered for a second time, scuffing his shoes. “Go on about LJ.”