Page 95 of Until You Say Stay
“Everywhere,” she confirms, and then lets out this slightly hysterical laugh. “Jack, people think we’refake. They think this whole thing is staged. The irony is insane.”
I can’t help but grin despite everything. “Right? If they only knew.”
She’s scrolling on her phone, shaking her head. “This ishilarious.” She looks up at me. “Some of the timeline stuff is kinda accurate. But they’re saying I’m a clout chaser. That I’m not actually talented.”
“That’s complete bullshit,” I say immediately, moving closer. “Your talent has nothing to do with me. Tidal was already interested before we even started this whole thing. Your streaming numbers were growing on their own. The fake dating just helped boost your social media numbers, but they reached out because of your music.”
“Try telling them that,” she says, gesturing at her phone. “Half the comments on my last post are people saying I’m agold digger or a fame whore or that I’m just some random girl desperate for attention.” Her voice wavers slightly. She’s trying to sound light, like it’s all a big joke, but I can tell it’s hitting her hard.
Fuck. I want to take her phone and throw it out the window, delete every social media app, protect her from all of this. But I can’t. This is the reality of my life, and now it’s hers too.
“It’s not great,” I admit, taking her hand. “But we can handle it. Thomas is drafting a statement. We’ll put it out, confirm we’re actually together, and it’ll blow over eventually. This stuff always does.”
“Everyone in Dark River is going to see this,” she says. “Your brothers are going to have questions. Everyone we know is going to be talking about it and asking if it’s true and wanting to know details and?—”
I move closer, taking both her hands now. “I’ll take care of my brothers. I should have come clean to them ages ago anyway, and believe me this is like number ten on the list of crazy things I’ve done over the years, so they won’t really care. As for everyone else, they can think whatever they want. We know the truth. The people who matter know the truth. Everyone else is just noise.”
She smiles a bit. “Okay, I guess that makes sense.”
“Exactly,” I say, squeezing her hands. “Plus this is a nice little trial run for when you’re a big star and something wild happens. This one we get to handle together.”
She laughs. “Okay, okay, you’re right. Ugh, I’m gonna have to tell my parents too though. I can’t keep lying to them about it anymore. That’s going to be fun.”
“Hey, I’ll just charm them when I finally get to meet them,” I say.
She rolls her eyes but she’s smiling.
An idea forms in my mind, sudden and clear. “What if we don’t go home?” I say.
She looks up, confused. “What?”
“What if we don’t go back? What if we go somewhere else instead? Just us, no cameras, no pressure, no one dissecting our every move or asking if we’re really together.”
“That’s crazy. Where would we even go?” she asks, but I can see interest sparking in her eyes.
“Somewhere away from everything. Somewhere we can just be together without worrying about who’s watching or what people think.” I’m already pulling up my phone, already searching. “I could book us a place in the mountains. Private cabin, middle of nowhere, just us.”
“You want to go on a spontaneous mountain getaway?” She’s smiling now. “You’re insane.”
“Maybe,” I admit, grinning at her. “But we were going to fly home tonight anyway. What’s a few more days? I’m thinking Banff. Canadian Rockies. I know someone who handles luxury cabin rentals up there. I can have us in a private place by tomorrow—fireplace, hot tub, mountain views, the whole thing. Completely away from everything.”
“Banff,” she repeats slowly, and I can see the appeal registering on her face. “Like actually Banff? The place with the turquoise lakes and the mountains that look like a postcard?”
“That’s the one. Private cabin, just us. No one knows we’re there. No tabloids, no social media shit, no one asking questions. Just a few days to be together and figure out what this is without all the noise.”
She looks at her phone, then back at me. I can see her wavering, that practical side that plans everything warring with the spontaneous side.
“We’d have to book flights,” she says, but it’s not a no. It’s the beginning of a yes.
“I can have that done in ten minutes.”
“And a place to stay.”
“Fiveminutes.”
She considers this. “And we’d have to let people know we’re not coming back as planned.”
“That’s what text messages are for. ‘Hey, extending the trip, back in a few days, love you bye.’” I’m grinning at her now, at how much I want this.
