Page 97 of Code Word
“You really are just adapting to this whole dating-a-guy thing like a duck to water, huh.”
I shrugged. “I don’t see the difference. If I’m dating a woman or you. It’s no one else’s business.”
“You know the world doesn’t see it like that. The media, production companies, fans...”
“They don’t matter anymore. We don’t have to toe that line anymore; we are under no contractual obligations. If we wanna make new music and our fans don’t like it, they can go to hell. They had no problem with Maddox or Jeremy, and the Bluke-ship was an entire thing, remember? They loved us.”
He nodded, smiling. “Oh, I remember.”
“We’ll have our own production company, our own PR and media team; you name it. And we’ll make our own rules.”
Luke was quiet for a bit, looking out at the water, smiling. After a moment, he met my eyes. “Are you hungry? I’ll get us some food. How’s your knee? Need the ice pack?”
“Knee’s okay. Bit sore, but the injection’s working.”
“Good,” he said softly.
“Thank you,” I said, my hand over his on his thigh. “For looking after me.”
His eyes met mine, the blue putting the sky behind him to shame. “Always.”
The pang in my chest, the butterflies, the sheer happiness: his sincerity gave me something I couldn’t explain.
When he stood up and went inside, I lay there on the lounge chair, staring at the sky, the sound of the waves crashing, voices in the distance of people walking along the beach. Everything was so close to perfect.
I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t want this to ever end.
I knew the truth was more that I didn’t want to go back and face reality. The bubble we had here was all I ever wanted.
I hadn’t looked at my phone in days. I hadn’t seen social media, I hadn’t seen the news, and there was much to be said about ignoring the bullshit.
It was so easy to get caught up in the hype, the thrill of fame, and all that went with it.
Stepping out of the spotlight had been the right thing to do.
I just . . . I just . . .
I didn’t know what.
“Here,” Luke said, sliding a tray onto the small table between our chairs so it was closer to me before he went back inside. It was filled with chips and salsa, sliced mango, cheese and crackers, and bottles of water.
“Oh wow,” I said, loud enough for him to hear. “This is awesome, thank you.”
I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.
I had a face full of food when he came back out with his guitar, notebook, with ‘songs and whatever’ scrawled across the front, and his phone.
He laughed at me. “Is it good?”
“Hmfo mffmhd.” I chewed and swallowed. “So good, thank you. That’s the best mango I’ve ever tasted.”
He planted himself on his lounge chair and threw some cheese and crackers in his mouth. “I found my phone,” he mumbled as he chewed. “Charged it before we went to the hospital.”
Ugh.
“Ten million missed calls and messages?”
He groaned. “Yep.” Then went for the salsa and chips and began swiping through notifications. “Not important, not important...”
