JACKS

I grab my room key and bolt out the door, heading directly for Skye's room down the hall. I knock rapidly when I reach her door. After a moment, she opens the door and gives me a weak smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"I need to talk to you."

She nods and waves me inside, closing the door behind me. Her eyes look red and a bit puffy.

"Is this why you're calling it off with me?" I ask, holding up the magazine.

Recognition flashes across her face.

"Listen, your business is your business and all, but I just... I don't think I can personally be involved in whatever this is."

"What is it, then?" I ask, stepping closer as she backs further into the room.

"I'm trying not to be the lame clingy girl, okay? I thought I could do casual with you, but it doesn't feel good to me. I kn-"

"Casual? Do you think you're the other woman?"

Her gaze falls to the floor and she bites her lip.

"Am I not?"

"Shit." I close the distance between us and wrap her in my arms, pressing her head to my chest. "You're the only woman—the only person. You're everything I think about, Buttercup. Do you have any idea how damn smitten I am with you?"

She looks up and blinks at me, almost in disbelief.

"I don't want to do the friends with benefits thing, alright? I can't hack it."

"Is that... what you thought we were?"

My chest stings as the words sink in. I'm trying not to take her words to heart, but the same old fears come creeping in.

Was this just a rebound fling for her? Was she just hoping to go home with some wild stories to tell her friends?

"Come on, Jacks. I know who you are and who I am. I was having fun with you and I thought I could hold back my feelings, but I'm not cool. I'm the freaking least cool human being. I'm just anxiety and emotion wrapped in skin, okay?"

I laugh slightly, pulling her back into me.

"I don't want you to hold back your feelings, Skye. Let it all loose. Overwhelm me. Drown me in it."

"I like you and I don't like you being with other people, okay?"

I rest my hands on either side of her face and pull her head up to look at me.

"I'm only yours. You own me."

Her eyes sparkle as she stares into mine, as if she's trying to solve the puzzle beneath them.

"So these stories aren't true?"

I shake my head.

"Not even a little bit."

"Who is she?"

"Angel? She's my ex. We broke up over a year ago. I broke up with her, actually. She was all about our public relationship and what it could do for her career, but in private she acted like an entirely different person."

Angel was so obsessed with being seen together—half the time we ran into paparazzi, I would wonder if she had called them herself. She loved to put on a show, so of course she's been using our breakup to stir up more press for herself. With my reputation, the press immediately branded me a cheater and she was happy to play the role of sympathetic victim. My personal policy is to never comment on tabloid stories, so I've just let it go, but it never occurred to me that Skye might see these stories and get the wrong idea.

"But you told me you had a girlfriend."

I squint, trying to remember what she might be talking about.

"What? When was this?"

"When you did your boudoir shoot. You told me you were taking photos for a girl."

I bring my palm to my forehead and cringe.

My smartass comments are coming back to haunt me.

"I didn't have a girlfriend... I-" I sigh, not sure how I'm going to explain this. "I didn't want you to know that I liked you."

She blinks a few times as she looks me in the eyes.

"You liked me? Back then?"

"Yeah, but I couldn't exactly say anything. You were in a relationship and I had just met you. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Shit," she says, pulling away and sitting down on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry Jacks, I feel like such a dick. I shouldn't have believed the stupid tabloid headlines, I know they're bullshit, I just-"

"You let your fears fill in the blanks." I sit down beside her.

"Yeah."

"I get it. I've been there."

"You mean Mr. Perfect has fears?" she teases.

"You know, contrary to popular belief, I am actually a human being?"

"You mean you're not actually a vampire?"

I shoot her a teasing glare and she laughs.

"You know, I think deep down we all have the same fear—that we're not good enough."

"How could you think you're not good enough?"

"You mean, because I'm Mr. Perfect?"

"Well, yeah. You have a literal fan club full of people who worship you."

"Don't get me wrong, my fans are incredible, but at the end of the day—they don't really know me. They love who they imagine me to be. They project all their desires and fantasies onto me, but I'm pretty sure they'd be disappointed in the real me."

"Why would they be disappointed?"

Maybe because I'm not a flawless sex god who always says the right thing and never has off days.

"Because I'm a real person," I say. "They think I'm part-superhero, part-pornstar. They don't realize I can be awkward and stupid and sensitive. I can't tell you how many times I've thought, 'Damn I wish I could be him. I wish I could be that guy in the tabloids. That bastard has his shit together.'"

I shake my head, realizing how stupid it sounds when I say it out loud.

"You're not giving yourself enough credit. The best parts of you aren't the cool celebrity parts." She lifts my chin so my eyes meet hers. "I mean, you're pretty smooth most of the time—sometimes it's even kind of annoying. But I like when you're silly or when you get bashful or when you open up. The real you is better than that guy in the tabloids."

I smile and lean in. She meets me halfway with a small sweet kiss.

"Besides," she says, caressing my cheek with her hand, "do you have any idea how insufferable you would be if you were more perfect?"

She laughs and those tiny creases appear around her eyes. I can't help but laugh in return.

"Well I wouldn't want to be even more insufferable," I tease, tugging her into a hug and laying us back onto the bed. A lock of hair falls into her face and I brush it behind her ear.

She bats her eyes at me and I feel the tightness in my stomach melt away.

"So," I say, "are we... okay?"

"Yeah... we're okay." She sighs and burrows into my chest. "I'm sorry about everything. I'm so embarrassed. I should have just asked you about it, but I thought I was just being naive and that you expected me to know."

"Know what?"

"That you were... seeing someone."

"You really thought I was fooling around on my girlfriend?"

I feel her shrug in my arms.

I'm slightly offended she'd think I'd cheat on my partner. Then again, I did try to steal her away from her fiancé, so maybe it's not the wildest stretch.

"Skye, there's never been anyone else. If you only knew how long I've been in-," I pause, catching myself before I continue, "interested in you."

She replies with a contented sigh, followed by a yawn.

Close one.

"You tired?" I ask.

"Yeeaaah," she says through another yawn.

"Are you going to fall asleep on me?" I chuckle, feeling her weight on my chest as it shakes.

"No, no." Her voice is faint and drowsy, seemingly contradicting her words. "I'm not an easy sleeper. It's 24/7 anxiety in here, no time for rest."

She giggles softly.

"Why so anxious?"

"Nothing particular, really, it's just how I'm wired. I'm always on edge. I feel a bit better now, though."

"Me too."

I take a deep breath in, inhaling the honey scent of her perfume.

Forget touring, performing, or recording, I'm just going to stay here with this girl forever.

"Next time you see a headline, just ask me about it, okay? The newsstand gossip is always lies. You can't trust a thing they say, even the photos; they take something innocent and twist it. If you haven't seen it with your own eyes, it's probably fiction." I give her a kiss on the top of her head. "I promise nobody's on my mind but you."

"Hmm..."

"What?" I ask, readjusting so that I'm turned on my side next to her and can see her face.

"Nothing. No filter, sorry."

"Oh no no... too late for that. Tell me."

"Who were you talking to on the phone just before I came by?" she says quietly, as if she's hoping I won't hear. "Sorry, I didn't mean to eavesdrop, I didn't... It's just, I could hear you through the door and it sounded like... I dunno... like you were talking to someone."

I search my mind for a moment, trying to think of who she might be talking about.

"Livi?" I ask. "It was probably my sister, Olivia."

"Oh." She pinches her lips shut. "Duh. Your sister."

"She was hounding me about buying her a dress for a school dance. What did you hear?"

"I don't even remember. It's not important."

"Were you jealous, Buttercup?"

"Don't push it, Ford," she teases, shooting me a glare. "So is she getting her dress?"

"Of course. She's got that little sister magic and I'm a total sucker. She's actually coming to the show in Nashville, so you might meet her—if she's not dodging me and pretending she doesn't know me."

"Is she really that embarrassed by you being famous?"

"Mostly she just doesn't want people to use her to get to me. I feel really guilty about it sometimes. When you're famous, people will do that—play nice because they want something from you. It's a downside of fame, but my family never signed up for that. They just have to live with it because they know me."

"If it makes you feel any better, I had to deal with that too. In high school, a lot of my friends really just wanted to get to Ollie. He was mister popular and—ironically—all my girlfriends had crushes on him. I kept telling them they weren't his type, but I don't think they got the message."

"You two seem like you're pretty close. Were you always?"

"Yeah, pretty much. It's a twin thing, I guess. You're the same age, going through the same things at the same time. We've always been in sync."

"That's pretty much the opposite of me and my sister. We have a 13-year age gap. My parents were in the middle of a divorce when she was born. I was already building my career and on the road with my dad a lot. She was mostly raised by my mother. Everything was totally different for her. Sometimes I worry that I messed up her life."

"I doubt that. I bet you're a good big brother."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because you're a good person."

"Unless you believe the tabloids," I say with a smirk. She scowls at me and I feel slightly guilty for bringing it up.

"Well, someone recently told me that tabloids are all lies."

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