JACKS

I've been staring at my ceiling for the past hour asking myself the same question—how did I fuck this up so badly?

I want to go to Skye, tell her how sorry I am, and beg for forgiveness, but I don't even know where to start.

I'm sorry I accused you of conning me to get publicity.

I'm sorry I assumed you sold me out to the paparazzi.

I'm sorry I'm such a fucking dick.

I hear a knock at the door and I jump up, praying it's Skye on the other side. I open it and see Dré on the other side.

"Is now a better time?" he asks, holding up a cardboard holder with paper coffee cups. "I brought coffee."

I step back and wave him in.

"Everything alright?" he asks as I sit down on the couch.

"I think I just ruined everything with Skye."

His eyes widen and he blows out a puff of air.

"What happened? I mean, things certainly seemed to be going well this morning."

"I accused her of calling the paparazzi, basically insinuated she staged our kiss. God, Dré, I fucked up so bad. I don't know what I was thinking."

"I do. You were thinking about Angel, and your dad, and all the other people who have sold you out for fame in your career."

"But Skye isn't one of those people. I know that. I just... I panicked."

"Damn," he says. "I get it, but... damn."

"Is everything handled with the story?"

"Yeah, actually, I talked to one of our people and I'm pretty sure I found their main source. But uh... it's probably gonna sting to hear it."

"Who?"

"It's your dad."

"Of course it is." I pinch my eyes shut and slam my fist on the armrest of the sofa. "How the hell did he even know all of th-"

I stop, realizing the answer to my own question.

"What?"

"He was talking to Skye the day he showed up in my bus. She must've told him. Goddamnit, how is he still managing to fuck up my life?"

"Sounds like he's short on money. He called around multiple outlets trying to sell the scoop to the highest bidder."

I nod.

A sudden banging on the door makes us both jump, and I get up and look through the peephole. It's Roman.

I open the door and he pushes past me and into the living room.

"What the hell did you do, Ford?"

"You're gonna have to be more specific, Rom, I've done a lot of stupid shit in the past 24 hours."

"Why did Kay say Skye was crying in her room?" he asks, stepping toward me with his chest puffed.

My head drops and I take a deep breath.

"I went to bat for you, Ford! I encouraged her to go for you. I thought you were going to be good for her. I told her you were a good guy!"

"Whoa, knock it off, Roman," Dré says, standing up and stepping between us. "It's a misunderstanding."

"Did you cheat on her?" he asks. "Because I swear to g-"

"No, I didn't cheat on her."

"What did you do?"

"I accused her of selling me out to the paparazzi."

Dré steps aside and gives me a sympathetic look.

"What? Why?" Roman asks, his brows furrowed.

"I just... They got a photo of us the other night and... I made a mistake."

"So you assume it's Skye's fault?"

"I did everything wrong. I freaked out, I started thinking she was too good to be true. She was asking me why it mattered and I think I gave her the impression it was because I didn't want to be seen with her or something."

Roman steps away and puts a hand to his forehead.

"Why would you do that? After all the bullshit with Greg, she already sees herself as this embarrassing secret and now you treat her like that?"

"Wait, what do you mean?"

"How he hid her from his parents."

Hid her from his parents? But they were engaged...

"You didn't know that?" He narrows his eyes at me and tilts his head.

"No. I didn't know."

"You need to fix this, Jackson."

I know.

SKYE

I'm tired of being someone's secret.

Why can everyone say they love me to my face and then turn around and pretend I don't exist to the rest of the world?

I roll over and scream into the pillow.

A paw hits me in the back of the head and I flip back over to see a concerned pug face staring back at me.

"I'm sorry Salty, am I freaking you out?" I pet his head and sigh.

Kaye always asks me to watch Salty because I'm the only one he likes, but here I am traumatizing him with frustrated screams into my hotel pillows.

Skye Kennedy—over-talker, embarrassment of a girlfriend, torturer of pugs.

A soft tap at the door triggers Salty's protective instincts and he lets out a loud howl.

"No offense buddy," I say, patting him as I get up, "but you're not really guard dog material."

I peek through the peephole and see Jacks holding a large pink box. He's rubbing his neck and rocking back and forth on his feet.

Is it too late to pretend I'm not here?

I pause, debating tip-toeing back to the bed.

"I know you're there, Skye," he says through the door. "I heard Salty."

Damn.

I crack the door open.

"Hi."

"Hi," he says. "Can I come in?"

He opens the box to reveal a dozen donuts. I reluctantly nod and let him inside. I walk over and sit down on the bed.

"These are for you." He sets the donuts down and hands me a small wrapped box. "This too."

The box feels like jewelry, which is weird because he knows I am so not the jewelry type, but I appreciate that he's trying.

"Thanks," I say.

He crouches down in front of me and rests his hands on my knees.

"I'm sorry, Skye. I know you would never sell me out to the paparazzi. I know you wouldn't betray me under any circumstances. You've given me so much trust, and I didn't give any back and I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking in love with you and it has nothing to do with how I feel about you. I just got all wrapped up in my own insecurities."

His eyes hold so much pain and desperation, I can't help but take his words as sincere.

"Someone once told me that sometimes we let our fears fill in the gaps," I say, putting a hand on his.

"This person sounds very insightful." He smiles, not a full smile, but a questioning smile asking me if we're okay.

"I just... I get having a bad moment and assuming the worst, obviously I've done it myself. But is it really that bad for people to know we're together?" A lump forms in my throat as I realize I may have just made an incorrect assumption. "Are we... together?"

"God I hope so," he says, rising to his knees and putting his hands on my waist. "If you'll have me. If I haven't fucked this up too much."

I can't help but feel butterflies rise in my stomach.

"Okay."

"And it's not bad that people know we're together, I promise. I just don't want you to be scared off by what it means to be 'Jackson Ford's girlfriend.' Because it's a lot of attention."

"Well, I handled my last famous boyfriend just fine."

His eyebrows raise.

"What?"

"I'm messing with you, Jacks," I tease.

"I had that coming." He shakes his head and laughs.

"You did. But on a serious note, I'm going to need one more thing from you."

"Anything."

"Hand me a donut."

*****

Before I head to the venue, I spot the little box on the dresser. It's a fancy white box tied with a silky, emerald green bow.

Maybe I should wear whatever he gave me.

I pick it up and pull the ribbon so that it unravels. Beneath the lid is a white cassette tape, with the words "For Buttercup" written in black Sharpie. I giggle to myself.

It's such a sweet gesture, but I'm not even sure how I'm going to be able to play it. I don't even own a tape player anymore.

There's a tiny arrow drawn toward the bottom of the tape, so I turn it on its side. The piece that it's pointing to seems out of place, so I give it a tug and a USB stick pops out.

I can't help but laugh. I didn't even know something like this existed.

There's a knock at my hotel room door and Kay calls from the other side.

"Bus leaves in five, let's go!"

The tape will have to wait.

I grab my gear and head for the bus.

*****

The crowd screams their lungs out as Jacks finishes his second-to-last song. As always, he's in his element and they love him. I've definitely gotten more attention from the audience tonight—mostly dirty looks from young women who probably think I've stolen away their dream boyfriend.

I guess I have. Oops.

But security was tightened up after the last incident and there's more space between me and them.

Jacks signals the band and steps forward toward the front of the stage.

"You've been a lovely crowd tonight," he says. "So I was hoping, if you all wouldn't mind, I'd like to talk to you all for a moment, tell you something that nobody else knows. Would you like that?"

The screams in response are deafening, so much so that my usual earplugs are barely helping.

"I appreciate the love you all have for me so much. So I want to tell you about something personal for me, and I'm going to ask that you all show that same amount of love and support. Can you?"

Again, the crowd erupts in a roar.

"I'm in love," he says.

My heart skips a beat.

What is he doing?

There's a mix of shrieks and hoots and squeals with a few boos.

"I'm over-the-moon in love and I'm really happy."

All at once, they shout encouragement.

"We love you Jackson!"

"You deserve it!"

He looks down at me and smiles.

"And I've got a new song for my girl. Would you all like to hear it?"

My heart is beating so hard in my chest that I can barely hear the audience anymore. Jackson walks over to the piano and sits down to play as Sticks starts off the beat.

♫ From the moment when we first met

Just thinking, damn she's perfect

I didn't know how true it was ♫

He can't possibly be talking about me.

♫ I'm still there, caramel in the air

Getting up the nerve to get out of my chair

Hey, you don't know me yet

But you scare me to death ♫

♫ There's stars in the sky

They sparkle in her eyes

And I'm weak, I can't speak

I know that she's the one

One look and I'm done

I can't sleep, I'm in deep ♫

♫ Her hair, catching the light

Staying up late and talking all night

Her laugh, when she's laughing at me

Singing along to her favorite song ♫

♫ The way she says whatever's on her mind

Her hand when it falls into mine

How she looks into my soul and sees me

She sees me ♫

♫ Her jagged edges fit perfectly into my own

She's the lyrics of the song that is my home♫

By the time he finishes another chorus, tears are streaming from my eyes. He blows me a kiss and then gives the crowd a wave before making his way off-stage.

Almost reflexively, I find myself rushing backstage. When I see him, I launch into his chest, wrapping him in a big hug.

"So you liked your song, Buttercup?" he asks with a laugh.

"I loved it," I say, giving him a kiss.

"I'm guessing you broke up with that other dude," Sticks says with a chuckle. "Either that or shit's about to get real awkward."

Jacks breaks our hug and smacks him upside the head. Sticks just laughs and walks off toward the green room.

Jacks pulls me back into his arms and I rest my head against his shirt.

This man who charms crowds on stage every night, whose photos fill gossip magazines, and whose posters line the walls of teenagers. This man who is so much more than his onstage persona, who is many things and everything. Of all these things, the one I love most of all, is that he's mine.

⬛

THE END

A/N: Thank you so much for reading my book! I hope you enjoyed it. If you'd like updates when my next book comes out (or just wanna be buddies!), give me a follow!