Suddenly Famous (5 page)

“Want to talk about what happened to Sydney?” I ask, treading carefully over the subject. I have a morbid fascination to know the details of the attack, but I also have the desire to block it out and pretend it never happened. It’s just too close to me, to what I go through, how I feel as if every fan that leaps at me from out of nowhere could be the one that ends my life.

I don’t know which answer I want to hear more, yes or no.

Leah sips the last of her drink and places the empty glass on the end table. She closes her eyes and sighs, not a resigned sigh, it’s more of a deep exhale combined with a moan of pleasure. She burrows further down into the couch, lying almost flat on the cushions. “No, not really. Maybe eventually we can talk about it. Right now? I’m just so tired.”

“It’s okay Leah, just rest.”

“You’re okay with me crashing?” she asks, never once opening her eyes.

I watch her lashes fan across the shadows under her eyes. Her mouth begins to go slack, and her beautiful lips part slightly as her breathing deepens.

“Yeah, I’m more than okay with it.” I try to hide the husky need in my voice and fail miserably. I didn’t need to worry about her hearing it, because the next time I look over, Leah is fast asleep.

Jesus, my dick hurts!

That’s the first thing I notice when I start to wake up, my body slowly coming into a state of awareness. I haven’t slept that deep in a long time. And no nightmares, either. For once, waking up isn’t terrifying. I’m not sweating, my heart isn’t racing, I don’t feel like I’m about to suffocate… I feel, great.

Except for my painful cock. When I reach down to adjust things to a more comfortable position, I realize that I’m not alone. There’s a body in front of me, curled up into my side and I’m wrapped around whoever it is.

For a minute, I’m startled. No way would I pick up a random chick and bring her here. When I see Leah’s golden hair, tangled up in knots in front of me, I relax. Leah fell asleep on the couch last night. Somehow, I must have nodded off as well and ended up curled around her like a lovesick puppy.

God, I’m a fucking goner. Cuddling? Spending the night with no sex? Trying to get her to discuss her feelings? I’m fucking lying here thinking about
my
feelings?

Who is this guy?

I carefully extract myself from the couch, making sure not to disturb Leah, and pad into my bedroom. After using the bathroom and brushing my teeth, I take off my jeans and moan at the glorious release of my dick from the tight, unforgiving denim. An old pair of sweats is lying on the bed, so I slip those on and head into the kitchen to make coffee. Leah owns a coffee shop. I remember her saying that, so I’m fairly certain she’ll want a cup when she wakes.

By the time Leah joins me, I’m on my second cup of coffee and have answered most of my emails.

“Hey, I’ll get you a cup?”

“That would be great, thank you.” She takes a seat at my kitchen table, a modern design with a steel pedestal and a deep aqua, round glass top.

“Cream and sugar?” I look over my shoulder as I wait for her answer.

“Both please.”

“Here you go.” I place the mug in front of her and she immediately takes a long sip.

“This is really good, Ry,” she says, taking another sip.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, considering you own a coffee shop.” Taking the seat next to Leah, I grin and she raises an eyebrow at me. “What? You thought I wasn’t listening when you told me?”

“Well… kind of. I mean, no. Not that you weren’t listening to me. It’s just that, well… it was a few weeks ago. I didn’t know if you’d remember.” Pink slashes of color appear on her cheeks and she drops her gaze to the table.

Fuck that’s sexy.

Damn. Sweatpants were a bad call. Now I can’t get up from the table unless I want her to see a tent in my pants.

I reach out and take her chin with my thumb and forefinger, gently tugging it until I can see her eyes. They’re turquoise today, almost the same color as my table. Leaning in close, I whisper, “I remember everything you say.”

I can hear her breath catch and liquid heat spreads down my spine, collecting in my groin.

As my mouth closes over hers and I taste her sweet lips, it occurs to me that this is the first day since the incident that I haven’t obsessed over it. It hasn’t even crossed my mind, not one single time.

Maybe I’ve found my cure.

Leah left right after breakfast this morning. She said she’s been gone from work for a while and has to stop by to make sure everything is running okay. Plus, she wants to run by Sydney’s place for a visit.

That leaves me with the rest of the afternoon to myself while I wait for her to call. She was so cute when she asked me if I wanted to come to her apartment for dinner. Bold, confident Leah was back. She probably just needed to get away from the hospital in L.A. and get a good night’s sleep. I know exactly how that feels.

Bored, I think about who I know that’s in New York right now. Declan and Lilly are in L.A. and so is most of my family. Brittany is going to the Hamptons for the weekend with some of the other girls that live in her apartment building.

Britt’s lucky. She can meet people and become friends. I pretty much have to stick to crewmembers and other celebrities for friendship. No way do I want to chance meeting some closet psycho who stabs me in my sleep.

Then it hits me. Adam Reynolds lives in New York. Or at least has been staying in New York recently. That’s what he told me the last time I saw him. Only one way to find out. I pull up his contact info and shoot him a text.

Me

I grab the remote for the television and flip through the sports networks, stopping on a basketball summary program. The sportscasters are halfway through their predictions for the weekend when my phone buzzes.

Adam

I hurry and type a response.

Me

God, I feel like an idiot setting up a ‘date’ with a dude. I have to get out of this apartment though, so I need to suck it up and stop being such a baby.

Adam

Me

Adam < 2pm at the bowling alley. Rented entire place>

I didn’t realize how tense I was until Adam mentions that we’ll have the entire bowling alley to ourselves. No fans, no outsiders allowed. I check the time. It’s just about one, which gives me plenty of time to get there.

Me

Adam

Chelsea Piers is enormous. It must span seven or eight city blocks, not including the massive piers that jut out into the Hudson River. I step out of the cab and pull my hat down low, pushing my new, non-prescription, thick black-framed glasses up on my nose, praying that nobody notices me.

I duck inside the sports complex and follow the signs to Bowlmor, practically jogging to get there undetected. By the time I walk up to the doors of the bowling alley, I’m breathing heavily, partially from running the whole way, partially from panic at being so exposed.

The big guy at the door nods when he sees me coming and lets me pass. I shot Adam a text from the cab so he would know what I was wearing and when to expect me, and he must have told security.

“This place is unreal!” I call out to the four men who are hanging out in front of one of the lanes, beers in hand.

“Ryker! Come meet my mates.” Adam greets me warmly and shakes my hand. “Everyone, this is Ryker Bancroft. Ry, this is Dex, Gavin, and Hawke, my band mates.”

While we all shake hands, a beer ends up in my possession.

“We haven’t started yet,” Dex says in a heavy British accent. “Are you any good at this game?” He arches an eyebrow at me expectantly.

“Ummmm, no. I don’t bowl much,” I admit.

“Good!” He slaps my back with one of his huge hands, pitching me forward, nearly spilling my beer. “Neither do we.”

Gavin punches everyone’s names into the computer and grabs a ball. “Ready?” he asks, giving each one of us a teasing stare, “because I’m going to kick your pathetic asses!”

Everyone laughs and trash talks while we bowl several games and watch sports on the big screens.

I sit next to Adam on one of the thick leather chairs. Leather chairs, in a bowling alley! “So, you’re coming with us next month? To England?”

“Yep. Need to get my inspiration from somewhere,” Adam says with a smile.

“Well, I hope you like desperate, screaming women clawing at you, because that’s what you get if you hang around me for very long.” I can’t help the bitterness that creeps into my words. Frowning, I take a long sip of my beer.

Adam shrugs casually, “Not a problem.”

He really has no idea. Anxiety starts to unfurl in my belly so I change the subject. “I saw you talking with Leah at the Verve party. You know her?”

Adam freezes, beer halfway to his mouth. He lowers it slowly before answering. “Yeah, I know her. From her café.”

“Oh, right. What about Sydney? How do you know her?”

My question causes Adam’s face to blanch. “Right, Sydney. I met her at the café as well.”

“Leah’s been pretty broken up about what happened to her… with the stalker.” Why am I talking about this? It’s only going to stress me the fuck out!

“Yeah,” he says, his tone gruff. “I called her while she was still in hospital. Says she’s fine.” He waves his free hand in a motion that implies he doesn’t believe Sydney. “That was fucking sick what that bastard did to her.”

I watch, fascinated, as Adam Reynolds, one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, twists his face into a very scary grimace.

“You should go see her then, if you’re worried. Leah said she’s back in New York.”

If I didn’t see it for myself, I wouldn’t have believed it, but Adam’s face gets even darker. He looks positively menacing.

“Nah. Can’t. Her boyfriend is the biggest tosser I’ve ever met. Won’t let me near her,” he snarls.

Before I can ask anything else, one of Adam’s band mates calls over to us. “It’s your turn Bancroft! Don’t make us wait!”

We get up and go back to our lane, neither of us saying a word about what just happened. Four games and several beers later, I’ve completely forgotten that the conversation even took place.

I’m just getting into a cab in front of the sports complex when Leah calls.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Nothing. We still on for tonight?” she asks.

“Sure. In fact, I’m already at Chelsea Piers. Want me to come straight over?”

“Yay! That’s only a few minutes away from my place.” Leah gives me her address, which I relay to the cab driver.

“Great, see you in a few.” I relax back into the seat and enjoy the short ride, thinking of all the things I’d like to do with Leah when I get there.

“Here you go,” the cabbie says. “Twenty-five dollars.”

I hand him a fifty and get out, feeling incredible. Today was fun, and tonight will only get better. Except I step out of the cab and right into a group of teenaged girls.

The screaming starts in less than five seconds.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!”

“No way!”

“Ryker I love you!”

“Aaaahhhhhhh!”

Their hands dart out, wanting to touch me, and I freak the fuck out.

Shit!
I had to get out of the cab on the opposite side of the street from Leah’s because of all of the traffic. Cringing, I duck my head and speed walk towards the corner, which is still a good hundred yards away. The screams of the girls who noticed me are attracting attention from passers-by. Now there’s a good thirty or forty females crowding tightly around me, each one touching and wailing and making my head hurt.

I’m going to fucking die on this sidewalk, I know it.

The whooshing of blood behind my ears nearly drowns out the hysterical screams. That damn steel noose has slipped down over my neck and is starting to cinch tight. My breathing becomes more and more shallow with each flailing grope of my body. The stench of their desperation combined with dozens of types of perfume practically chokes me.

“Please, stop touching me,” I beg, my voice barely a whisper because I can’t fucking breathe.

I look up to see the street corner is far enough away that it may as well be on another continent. I’ll never make it there in one piece. The women are packed so tightly around me that I can hardly walk. Their elbows jostling my ribs and their feet stepping on mine.

As a last ditch effort to get the hell out of this mess, I see a sliver of an opening in the crowd and take it. I shove two shocked women aside and dart into the street, speeding into a full-out sprint once I’m clear. It’s insane, with the amount of traffic zipping by, but I have no other choice unless I want to be crushed to death by fans. My shoes pound against the asphalt while my heart pounds out an erratic rhythm against my ribs. The familiar band gets tighter and tighter around my chest with each hasty step.