Page 68 of The Heartbreakers
“Hopefully we can still sneak out the back.”
We weren’t that lucky. Oliver tried to hurry down the hall, but he was easily spotted by his fans. When the hysterical screaming began, he grabbed my hand and we started to run.
“Hold on,” he said, pulling up short of the rear door. He poked his head around the corner before quickly pulling back. “Shit.”
“What’s wrong?” I asked. As adrenaline started to pump through my heart, I wondered if our relationship would always be like this: secrets and chases and drama.
“There’s a whole bunch of paparazzi. We need to go a different way.”
“What other way?”
“Through the kitchen?” he suggested.
We hurried through the swinging metal doors, and some of the cooking staff looked up at us in surprise. The kitchen had one exit. It led out into a tiny, fenced-in area where the Dumpsters were kept hidden from view, but there was a padlock where the fence was supposed to open, trapping us inside.
“Now what?” I was starting to worry that our first secret date wouldn’t be secret for that much longer.
Oliver thought for a moment before pulling me back into the small kitchen. He threw open the janitor’s closet and pushed me inside before stepping in after me. When he closed the door behind himself, we were shut in darkness.
“Ouch,” I hissed as Oliver trampled over my foot.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. I couldn’t see much of anything, but I was pretty sure that Oliver had shoved the cleaning cart under the doorknob so no one could get in.
“Hey!” someone in the kitchen shouted. “You girls can’t be in here!”
Squealing ensued. We waited, our breathing heavy, until the commotion outside the door died down. My heart was finally slowing and I was able to relax slightly, but that didn’t solve our current problem—we were still trapped inside a janitor’s closet.
“So how exactly are we going to get out of this one?” I asked. I heard Oliver shuffle around. A second later, there was a sudden bright light as his phone woke up, and he hit a number on speed dial.
“Hey,” he whispered when someone answered. “Stella and I are trapped at this Indian place. We need someone to pick us up.” The phone conversation lasted a few more seconds as Oliver gave whoever was on the other end the address of the restaurant. When he hung up, he said to me, “It will be about twenty minutes.”
“What do we do until then?” I asked. “Hide here?”
With his phone back in his pocket I couldn’t see Oliver, but I could hear the grin on his face. “I can think of a couple things.” He wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me up against him. “For example…”
And he kissed me instead of finishing his sentence. At first, it was much softer than our previous two kisses. Oliver took his time, slowly pressing his lips to my forehead, cheeks, and neck. But when he finally found my lips, it was a whole different story. He backed me up against the wall of the closet and pressed his chest against mine as he kissed me feverishly. I accidentally kicked something over as we moved. It was small and metal, probably a can of cleaning spray, and a broom clattered to the floor along with it. My fingers went straight into his wavy curls and locked together as I inhaled his scent—cinnamon and laundry soap.
We made out in the closet until Aaron showed up, and when he snuck us out of the restaurant, I felt like I was part of a James Bond movie. But dating Oliver wasn’t all thrilling adventures, dangerous chase scenes, and passionate kisses. The very next night, after the Heartbreakers concert, I let the boys talk me into going to an after-party. It was at a night club a few blocks from the arena, and when we arrived, it didn’t take me long to learn that the hardest part about secretly dating one of the world’s most eligible bachelors was that nobody—nobody meaning girls—knew that he wasn’t so eligible anymore.
A crowd flocked around the band as soon as they stepped inside, mainly gorgeous girls who were dolled up for a night of dancing. I never felt self-conscious about my appearance in front of Oliver, but suddenly I felt underwhelming in my frayed jean shorts and tank top.
Our party was given a VIP room next to the DJ booth, and while it gave us some privacy from the rest of the club, we sat with a small group of fans who were lucky enough to be selected by security to join us. Three girls in particular were hanging on Oliver, all tall, golden, and nothing like me. The frustrating thing was that I couldn’t hate these girls for their shameless flirting, because they had no idea he was already taken.
I took a spot on one of the leather couches and tried to look as nonchalant as possible, playing with my phone and watching the mob of people pulse together on the dance floor. At one point, Oliver caught my gaze and looked at me with apologetic eyes, but for most of the night we stayed apart to keep up appearances.
“Hey, you okay?” JJ asked when the club was finally closing. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”
“Me?” I asked, trying to sound surprised. “Never better.”
• • •
“Veggie smoothie?” Xander asked me.
I was sitting at the kitchen counter in the boys’ hotel suite working on my second cup of coffee. It was early morning and everyone was still in bed with the exception of Xander. Fifteen minutes earlier he’d emerged from his room, still half asleep, and headed straight down to the hotel kitchen. When he returned, he had a huge glass of something green and poisonous looking in his hand.
“No thanks,” I said, wrinkling my nose. “I think I’ll stick to my usual bagel.”
Because of all his food allergies, Xander had the strangest diet of anyone I’d ever met. Normally all he ate were scrambled eggs, chicken, salads, and occasionally he’d mix things up with a blender. He was gluten intolerant, nut intolerant, shellfish intolerant, and there was even a list of fruits he couldn’t safely eat—I could live without the seafood, but the carb lover inside of me cried at the thought of missing out on bowls of spaghetti.
