Page 39 of Unholy Confessions
R: Of course. I'd love to do anything with you. When?
Before I can talk myself out of it, I answer in a flurry of fingers and feelings.
M: Today? Nashville Zoo?
R: Perfect. Pick you up at 11?
I smile for the first time in days.
M: I'll be ready.
RJ shows up right on time, and when I see him leaning against his truck, hands shoved deep in his pockets, something in my chest loosens. He's wearing dark jeans and a simple black t-shirt, his hair still messy from sleep, and he looks like the boy I fell in love with in high school. The smile on his face is the same one he used to give me back when we were only best friends.
"Hey, beautiful," he says, pulling me into his arms.
"Hey yourself," I murmur against his chest, breathing in the scent that's just his. It's the smell that always makes me feel comfortable and protected. I close my eyes and sink back into everything that's familiar.
We get in the truck, and when we're buckled in and we have a good song playing on the radio, he glances over at me. "Ready to go?"
"As I'll ever be."
We're singing along to an old Backstreet Boys song, laughing at each other when he stops and slams on his horn. "Fuckin' asshole. He almost came over into my lane."
"Nashville traffic sucks so hard," I groan.
"Worst in the goddamn world, I swear," he grumbles.
"And we always made fun of your mom for bitching about it. Listen to us."
We glance at each other and laugh with the absurdity of it. This is everything we always used to have together, and I missed the hell out of it.
We get to the zoo and RJ pays my way. The minute we enter, something happens that's only ever happened a handful of times before. I'm not exactly prepared for it, and I definitely haven't been anticipating it.
"Oh my God, is that RJ Thompson?"
The voice comes from a group of teenage girls near the entrance, and I watch as RJ's entire posture shifts. He straightens, runs a hand through his hair, and puts on what I recognize as his public smile. It's not something I've seen him have to use very much since the band started getting airplay, but it's becoming more and more a regular occurrence.
"Hey there," he says warmly as they approach, and I automatically step to the side.
I feel like the third wheel on my own date with my boyfriend.
"Can we get a picture? Please?" one of them asks, already pulling out her phone.
"Of course," RJ says, and I watch as he poses with them, his arm around their shoulders, his smile crooked and sexy as hell.
More people start to notice. A couple of college-aged guys who want to talk about his music. Each time, I find myself taking another step back, becoming more invisible.
I should be proud. I am proud. Watching people light up when they see him, hearing them talk about how much Grey Skies means to them – it's incredible. But there's this growing knot in my stomach that I can't shake.
"Sorry about that," RJ says when we finally make it to the first exhibit without the crowd following us. He slips his hand into mine. "I didn't expect..."
"It's fine," I say, and I mean it. Mostly. "It's amazing, actually. Seeing how much people love you."
He squeezes my hand. "You okay with it?"
"Of course." The lie comes easily. It's weird to me, even though I grew up with it, with my dad and Black Friday. This is my boyfriend. This is some of the only time we get together before he has to go back on tour for the European leg.
We make our way through the zoo. We stop at the elephants and I laugh as they spray each other with the water from the pond they're in. "I've never seen them do that before, wouldn't it be fun?"
