Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 99282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 99282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 496(@200wpm)___ 397(@250wpm)___ 331(@300wpm)
We stay silent, gulping in breaths. It’s like we’ve both been stuck under water for too long and we’re trying to recover, attempting to piece ourselves back together. My heart starts to calm, but I still feel like a wreck when he helps me stand.
The high has burned off, and now I’m left feeling like I can’t possibly go back out in public without everyone realizing what we’ve just done.
For some insane reason, tears burn the edges of my eyes, and maybe it’s just the fact that all my emotions seem to be living right on the surface lately, or maybe it’s the feeling of wrongdoing falling heavy on my shoulders.
Logan settles me back on my feet and hugs me close, wrapping his arms around me so I’m totally sheltered from the world. We don’t say a word for a long time as he holds me. I breathe in his cologne and try to pretend we’re completely alone, in a vacuum of our own making.
But then a jazz band starts to play out in the main hall, and even in our supply closet, we hear it.
Logan pulls back and holds me at arm’s length.
I arch a brow at him, and his solemn expression starts to lessen. He shakes me back and forth, trying to tease a smile out of me, and eventually, I relent. Then, he tugs a handkerchief from his front pocket and passes it over to me. I use it to dab at the corners of my eyes then fold it over to wipe around my mouth.
“I could use a shower.”
“I think there’s a bathroom just around the corner.”
I groan. “Do I look like I’ve just given a blow job?”
He laughs and shakes his head. “You look as sexy as you did when I first dragged you in here.”
“You’re biased. You’ve just had a lovely time, so nothing quite matters. Be truthful—do I look like a mess?”
He tugs me toward him and kisses my hair. “I promise you look fine, but I’ll lead you to the bathroom so you can see for yourself.”
Then he picks up my clutch and passes it over so I can tuck it under my arm, and we start to head for the door. He opens it and pokes his head out. I laugh at how ridiculous he looks, like he’s on some sort of reconnaissance mission. A regular secret agent.
“The coast is clear,” he tells me, taking my hand and pulling me out after him. We close the door and walk out into the hall, and just like that, we’re two normal people attending the gala once again.
My cheeks go red, though, just knowing I look a fright. I see the door for the loos up ahead and practically bolt for it.
“I’ll be in there! Don’t bother waiting for me—I’ll probably be a while.”
“All right, I’ll go get us drinks.”
I wink then push through the door. It’s blessedly empty and cold, but I don’t bother looking at my reflection yet. It’ll only depress me. I do my business in the stall and rearrange my dress so it sits where it’s meant to. Then I walk out to the sink, take a deep breath, and lift my gaze.
Oof.
My lipstick is smeared round my mouth. I look like I belong in a striped circus tent, and the damage doesn’t end there. My hair is standing on end in a few places, from where Logan was gripping me to keep me where he wanted. He really did a number on me. My cheeks are flushed and my eyes are a bit glassy.
Fragile. I look fragile.
I groan and grab a load of paper towels to carefully dab off my smeared lipstick, without ruining even more of my makeup. Then I toss them and start to finger-comb my hair. It’s sort of useless, but it’s all I’ve got. I’m still going at it when the door opens and Melody strolls in. She sees me and jumps in shock.
“I know you!”
I smile. “Oh, err…hello there. Yeah, I’m Candace.”
She narrows her eyes in thought as if trying to place me, and then she smiles. “Right! Candace. You were the waitress at that bar we went to the other night.”
“Right-o,” I say with a little shrug of my shoulders. “District. And you’re one of Logan’s friends.”
“Well, more than friends.” Then she sort of claps a hand over her mouth and rolls her eyes. “Forget I said that. God, being with someone in the public eye is so complicated.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, voice weak.
“It can be so tricky dealing with our public image. It’s one way behind closed doors”—she waggles her eyebrows suggestively—“and another way in the public. You have to play it cool all the time.”
I can feel the color start to drain from my face. I’m a pale ghost as she steps closer and takes a spot at the sink beside mine. She starts to fuss with her appearance, but there’s no need. She’s flawless.