All Access (The Fangirl Series Book 1) (16 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Tough Love

Kallie, get a grip, I tell myself. Think this through. Don’t jump to conclusions. Maybe it’s not what you think.

But how can it not be?

It really does make sense. Niles reached out to me because he was creatively dry. That’s why he keeps telling me how impressed he is with my progress on Book Two. He must find that intriguing because he’s coming up so empty. I’m sure I’d feel the same way.

But if he needed me for inspiration, yet he’s still not making much progress, what does that mean? He’s obviously not getting what he needs from me. Or maybe his feelings for me really
are
real and I’m distracting him. But even if that’s the case, does that excuse the fact that he used me?

Ugh, what the hell, what the hell, what the hell?

“Kallie? Hey, I’m back.”

Oh my God, he’s here. What am I going to do? I can’t just jump into the sack with him. Not now. Not knowing what I might know. But, I
want
to jump in the sack with him. Whatever it is that’s going on here, I have genuinely fallen in love with him. Well, the him I thought he was. But even if he’s not that guy, he’s still my rock star crush, and who wouldn’t want to get it on with their rock star crush when the opportunity arises?

I mean, right?

“You fall asleep on me?”

Oh, his voice is so playful. He’s so charming and seemingly genuine, there is no way that what is going on between us is not real. I’ve heard his heart thump, I’ve felt his body react to my touch, I’ve seen him cry as he admitted all his wrongdoings, then plead with his eyes for me not to hate him because of them. His kisses are too deep to be fake, the way he looks at me and touches me and acts so protective of me—those are not the behaviors of a con artist. And now, he’s asked to make love to me to prove he’s for real. He said it himself. This is proof he cares.

But what about the picture?

He knocks on the bathroom door. “Are you okay in there? Come on out. I miss you.”

Oh, I miss you, too.

I open the door slowly and see that quirky face I just can’t get enough of. I could stare at him forever.

“You are so beautiful,” he says, stepping toward me. Even though part of me wants to punch him, I remind myself that I don’t know the whole story yet. I let myself fall into his arms and bury my face in his chest. I love how he feels against me. I can’t help it. We fit.

Man, I just want this night to go as perfectly as it was supposed to. I want to take him by the hand and lead him to his bedroom. I want to strip us both naked, where we’ll kiss every square inch of each other and finally maneuver ourselves so that instead of two people, we are one.

I want to take it slow and easy, feeling every feeling that needs to be felt and going to every place we’re ready to go. When it’s over, I want to look him in the eye and tell him straight up, without reservations, that I love him. That there is almost nothing he could do wrong and no reason I could ever stop loving him. That whatever brought us together doesn’t matter, and that the only thing that does matter is where we are now.

But I don’t know how true that is. Call it cynicism or the skittishness of enduring another failed relationship, but I’m not sure if I can move forward with something that’s already laced with doubts and hidden agendas. If the reason I am melting into his chest right now is because he needed my pathetic fangirl story to inspire his new album, maybe I shouldn’t go any further at all.

I seriously have to find out what he was thinking. Right now.

“Niles? Do you really, like
really
, care about me?”

“More than I want to admit.”

There was no hesitation. No pause, no nothing. He didn’t miss a beat. His arms tighten around me, bringing us even closer together.

“But I’m a head case, right?” I lift my head just a touch, then plop it right back down again. I can’t look at him. It’ll be much easier speaking to his shirt than into those beautiful eyes.

“I mean, I wrote a book about some guy I didn’t even know. Celeb-stalker. Who does that? Who risks the judgment of pretty much everyone just to tell a fangirl story like mine? There must be a reason behind that madness, right?”

I pause, then with my heart up in my throat, I just plain old put it out there. “Shit, I bet you could write a whole album about that.”

And with that, he stiffens. Like really, really stiffens.

Bingo, I got him.

Damn it, damn it, damn it, I got him.

“I can’t get in bed with you tonight,” I say, stepping back as my chest tightens. I glance at him just long enough to see the pained look on his face.

“Why not?” he whispers.

“Maybe this is all too fast after all.”

“It’s not, Kallie. Come on. We’re there now. We have been. I was just too scared to let it happen.”

“Why? Afraid of
hurting someone
?” My cheeks flush and I clench my hands together, mostly because I don’t know what else to do.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice rising to match mine. “You!”

“Me? Really? Are you sure you don’t mean
Robbyn
?”

He throws his hands up and looks back at me with flashing eyes. “Kallie, what the
hell
? I thought I’ve been perfectly clear about all that!”

“I can’t have sex with you tonight, Niles,” I say again, turning my gaze to the floor.

“Yeah, okay, I get it. But will you please be straight with me about why? This is not about Robbyn. It better not be. We’re done. I’ve told you that. A million fucking times.”

“Well, that’s not what she says,” I spit. “But that’s also not the real issue here.”

“Then what
is
the real issue?”

I think fast, because I’m really not sure where I’m going with this next. I suddenly feel panicky about tackling this head on. I’ve forgotten how hard new relationships are, and I certainly couldn’t have predicted the effort it takes to be in love with someone you idolize, but obviously barely know. I’m not ready to completely walk away from us, but I know that I can’t go even the tiniest bit further without thinking this through.

I take a deep breath and say the only thing I can think of. The thing that will buy me some time. The quintessential statement that almost every person who has been in a relationship throws out before getting in too deep. The biggest cop out of all, really.

“I need some space, okay? This is just . . . too fast. It was a fangirl infatuation that went really far, really fast. And maybe we need to step back.”

“Oh, come on, Kallie. You are so full of shit,” he says, rolling his eyes. “There is no way you really believe that.”

“Yeah, well, there are a lot of things I’ve been forced to believe that I really don’t want to!”

I walk into his room to gather up my stuff. “I’m going to stay at the hotel tonight. And I think I should fly home tomorrow instead of Monday.”

“What? You’re walking away? You’re really not going to tell me where all of this is coming from?”

I glance up at him; he looks so sad. How can I do this to him? Oh yeah, because of what he did to me.

“I just need some time. I think we still have a lot to learn about each other.”

“Well, we can’t really learn about each other if
one of us
refuses to talk.” He gives me a pointed look, which makes me feel both guilty and mad. He must read this on my face because he walks up and tries to put his hands on my shoulders. I shrug them away.

“Okay, here’s the deal,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest instead. “There is no way I am buying what you’re selling. No way. There is something shitty going on here and you need to speak up or else there is not a damn thing I can do about it.”

Ugh, why does he have to be such an intuitive son of a gun? He is making this so difficult. I really just want to spill everything, but my line has been drawn. I need to stick this out. I need to remember who I am and what I need. I need to let him know that I can call some shots, too. I need to figure out how I feel about this and decide what I’m going to do next. And he’ll just have to be okay with that.

“What you can do,” I say with a very measured voice, “is give me some space.”

“Fine.” He walks toward his door. “I kinda thought we were at a place where you could tell me anything, but sure, okay, if you need space, by all means.” He holds open the door, his face full of hurt and confusion and annoyance and sadness. I pick up my bag and as I walk past him, he gives me a rough peck on the cheek. “Call me when you’re ready. I hope it’s soon.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Worth a Thousand Words

“Kallie? It’s two o’clock in the morning. Are you okay?”

Oh God, how I needed to hear this voice. There is nothing in the world quite like a friend who answers your excessively off-hours calls.

“You were right, Sara. You called it and you nailed it. I am so naïve.”

With those few words, with that short little admission, my emotions fall out. The tears I held in as I left Niles’s apartment, the tears I held in throughout the cab ride here, and the tears I held in as I rode the elevator to my room, burst through the door, then flung myself onto the bed . . . they’re all loose now. They’re cascading down my cheeks and onto my shirt and onto the pillow and right to the sheets and the blankets. They’re everywhere, dampening everything, making my vision blurry and my head and my heart absolutely ache.

“I called what? Oh my God, what happened?”

“He isn’t what I thought,” I wail. “What I hoped. He was . . . using me.”

I don’t even try to pull myself together, and because Sara has seen me at my worst many times over, I know she doesn’t expect me to.

“Girl, slow down,” she says, compassion dripping from her voice. “What do you mean, he was using you? Using you for what? Did he hurt you?”

“No, he didn’t hurt me.” I sniff. “He wouldn’t do that. But he couldn’t come up with any ideas for the new record,”
sniff
, “so he befriended me to get into my head. He was gonna write his new album with my stupid fangirl obsession as the focal point. Can you believe that?” I pick up a pillow from the bed and whip it across the room.

“He
told
you that?”

“No,” I blubber. “Robbyn, his ex. She told me. At a party tonight.”

Sara clucks her tongue, then laughs more loudly than she should at 2:00 a.m. “So his
ex
told you this? And you believed her? Kallie,
that
is naïve.”

“She sent me a picture, Sar. It was right there in front of my eyes. A notebook page filled with notes in his handwriting, with all the questions he needed to ask in order to build the new album around my sorry obsession. I feel like such a fool. You questioned what a rock star would want with little old me, and I didn’t listen. Why didn’t I listen?”

“Oh, honey, it’s okay.” Her voice is like a hug through the phone. “You fell hard for him and were blinded. That’s what love does. Don’t be so hard on yourself. This is not your fault.”

“Why did it have to be this way?” I cry. “I really thought, in some weird way, we actually had a chance.” I swipe at the tears trailing down my cheeks and try to sit up. My body doesn’t cooperate, so I flop back down and stare up at the ceiling instead.

“I know you did, love.” She pauses a second, clearly trying to assemble the right words. “But, you know, this is probably for the best. I’m sorry you are hurting, I really am. And it’s awesome that you had so much fun while you did. But hidden agenda or not, your chances of being a real thing? I mean . . . it probably wasn’t going to happen. It was a dream, not a reality.”

Of course she’s right. I didn’t listen to her before, but I obviously should now. I was crazy to think a small-town girl like me could ever attract an international rock star on her own merits. Of course there was something behind it. And yeah, things may have gotten real between us, but how sustainable is something like this? I’m a dreamer—always have been—but sometimes a little kick in the reality pants is all I need to come to my senses.

I scrunch my eyes shut, pushing even more tears down my face. “I just want to come home.”

“Can you fly out tomorrow? You probably should. Can I help call someone for you? Are you okay where you’re at?”

“Yeah, I’m at the hotel. I’m fine here. I’ll try to get my flights changed, but for now, I just need to finish my cry and sleep this off.” My voice shakes as I paw through my bags in search of pajamas. “Thanks for listening, my friend. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I don’t wait for her response, and I couldn’t hear her if she said anything else anyway. I cry and cry and cry some more, thinking about my entire journey with Niles, from the moment I conceptualized my book to less than an hour ago. The feelings I developed for him before even meeting him, the knots in my stomach the first time we came face-to-face, the pangs of emptiness I felt every time we were away from each other for even the shortest of moments. I think about the realization that he isn’t who I dreamt he was, who I made him be in my mind and on the page, or who I wanted him to be more than anything.

Oh, why couldn’t he have just read my book, thought I was cool, and called me up just because he wanted to get to know me better? Because I was someone with whom he connected? Because I was someone worth knowing, not because I provided fodder for his next artistic foray? I feel like such a joke, such a moron, such a fool for handing him my heart on a platter, only for him to take the butt of his microphone and grind it right in.

What am I going to do next? Do I tell him this is it? That we’re done just as fast as we started? Do I ask to remain friends? Do I say, “Hey, maybe our paths will cross again someday, so farewell for now?”

Ugh, I’m not ready for this change yet. I’ve become far too accustomed to how things have gotten and that’s how I still want them to be. I want to see his face and hear his voice and smell his smell. I want a zillion texts a day and more pictures on my phone than it can viably hold. I don’t want to imagine what life will look like now. Already. Without warning.

Somehow, some way, between all the tears and questions and muddled thoughts and sadness, I fall asleep. He’s in my dreams, of course, and all is well. But I must remember it was a dream. All of it was only a dream.

***

I wake up to Niles’s voice, singing inches from my head. I have one of his songs as my general ringtone and hearing it call to me first thing this morning breaks my heart all over again. I make a mental note to change it as soon as I can.

Lucy’s name flashes on my screen, so with a froggy voice and mush for a brain, I answer as cheerfully as I can.

“Good morning, Lucy! Happy Sunday!”

“Kallie, hiiiiiiii,” she drawls. “Have fun last night?”

I puff a breath through my nose and feel the corners of my mouth turn down. If I won’t be seeing Niles anymore, I’m sure I’ll need to come clean to her eventually. But now is not the time.

“Yeah,” I say, my heart tightening all over again. “It was nice.”

“I see that. You looked great. And you two are fabulous together. Nice work.”

Wait, what? I guess my stunned silence clues her in, because her voice bubbles as she says, “You haven’t seen
Page Six
yet today, have you? You guys are in there. And you look incredible. This is huge. Congratulations!”

I am stunned. Absolutely stunned.
Page Six
? I’m in
Page Six
? With Niles?

“Do you know who Niles’s publicist is? I can find out, but if you already know, that’s cool. We’ve been talking about doing that for you, but now it looks like the sooner the better. I’ll get with the team first thing tomorrow.”

I can’t even believe what I am hearing. The world is opening
Page Six
this morning and seeing my face in it? And now my agent is talking to me about getting a publicist? This is all part of that unbelievable dream I was living, just hours ago. And now it’s crashed and burned. Just like that.

“You there?” she asks. “You’re so quiet.”

“Sorry, yes, I’m here. Just the first time I’ve ever been, you know, internationally exposed.”

“Ha, well, enjoy it. Looks like this is just the beginning. You guys will probably be the next media darlings.”

I fall back on the bed, stretching my arm so it reaches into the bag next to me. I dig through until I find the sweatshirt I took from Niles’s apartment last night. I put it up to my nose and breathe in. Hoo boy.

“Do you think we can announce on your fan page that you’re dating? Your readers will go absolutely crazy.”

No! Oh my God, no!

“Um, we’re not really
dating
.”

“Well . . . you obviously spend a lot of time together.”

“Yeah, as friends.”

Lucy laughs politely. “Kallie, I know it’s weird talking about your personal life, but when we get off this call, look up the picture. It pretty much screams that you two are way more than just friends.”

Holy cow, what the hell? What are we doing in the picture? I run my mind back through last night—the stuff I can remember, anyway. I assume the snap was taken at the after-party. If that’s the case, then yes, anyone there would not have had a hard time catching us in an embrace of some sort. Wow, this is huge. I wonder what Niles will think. I wonder what his publicist is thinking. I wonder what this means for us going forth.

“Listen, Kallie, you’ve been seen at a lot of his shows. People are making the connection between him and your book. I know Niles is super private, but he’s not so private that he hid his obvious affection for you while you were at a huge party where he had to know there’d be cameras. This could be really big for your career, especially as we shop your movie rights. I think it’d be smart for you to make an announcement on your fan pages. Or at least say something cheeky about the photo. It doesn’t have to be weird. We can make it fun, but it’s still an admission by default. What do you think? This could be great. For both of you.”

More silence on my end. I truly don’t know what to say. I envision myself announcing to my fans that Niles and I are a couple. That dreams really do come true. That being true to your heart can get you everything you want in life and more. I envision my fans going crazy, my books flying off the shelves, my royalties climbing to the sky. I envision congratulatory comments on my fan page, messages of hope and encouragement, fans reveling in the fact that true love always wins. It could’ve been that way. This could have been just the beginning. This could have been my life.

But, as of last night, that’s no more.

“Uh, I have to think about this, Lucy.”

“Sure. Take your time. Talk to Niles and see what they’re doing on his end. I just think that if you’re going to make a move, sometime today would be your best timing.”

“Right. Okay.” What do I do? Do I tell her that Niles and I are no more? That the pic from last night is the last one she’ll ever see like that? That this was just a fun little fluke and my luck has run out and I’m back to being that small-town girl with big dreams who will probably end up dating someone from high school, just like her best friend? Or do I say nothing and hope all the hype dies down and Niles and I can just fade into the sunset with no one wondering or questioning or getting giddy about what they see in the tabloids?

“I’m genuinely excited for you two,” Lucy says. “I know how much you care for him. What a dream, right?”

Well, shit.

“A dream. Exactly.” My voice is flat, so I wonder if she can read me. I really shouldn’t say anything more. “I’ll be in touch, okay? Thanks so much for letting me know. I’ll talk to Niles and see what’s up from here.”

We hang up and my fingers fly across my keypad.
Page Six
. There it is. I scroll past A-listers, a few has-beens, and gaggles of reality stars until I see the photo in question. Holy cow, there we are. And the picture is gorgeous. Oh, it’s so gorgeous. We’re facing each other, our hips so close a piece of paper couldn’t fit through. His arms are around my waist, my hands are on his upper arms, and we’re looking into each other’s eyes, smiling the biggest, most genuine smiles we could possibly be. My hair is flowing perfectly over my shoulder and my skin has just the right amount of sheen. And the earrings! You can see my new diamond earrings just as plain as day. We look relaxed, happy, perfect together . . . and in love. We look totally, completely, unmistakably in love.

And everyone who reads
Page Six
is seeing it.