“Hey.” I step closer and rest my hand on his chest so everyone knows this is an intimate conversation they shouldn’t interrupt. And also because, hello, I like touching him. He feels so solid beneath my touch. “Are you okay? Should we go home? It’s okay if you say yes.”
His eyes drop to my palm pressing against his firm chest, and he covers it with his hand. The contact is a jolt through my veins. It reminds me that I just kissed him. On the red carpet. In front of everyone.
It was so brief and full of onlookers that I barely registered it. And then, the second I pulled away, I felt disappointed. Not because it lacked sparks, but because I didn’t get a chance to pay attention to the sparks. I was too worried about the panic attack I think Nathan was having out there and focused on getting us off that red carpet before every photo in tomorrow’s gossip magazines showed Nathan looking like a deer in headlights. The tabloids would have had a field day coming up with lies to explain his expression: Nathan Donelson losing the fight against narcotic pills!
He breathes deep, and I feel his chest expand against my palm. “Sorry about that back there. I’m okay now.”
It’s so like Nathan to breeze over this. “Are you sure? It looked like you were having a panic attack.”
He grimaces and looks left, the sharp, strong corner of his jaw emphasized. “Nah—I don’t get those.”
I laugh because the man is dead serious. Like he’s some super breed of human that just doesn’t have mental health issues from time to time. Look out, science, we’ve found a man who never feels stressed!
“You don’t have to have an anxiety disorder to get a panic attack. Sometimes they can come on from too much stress, or overextending yourself, or—”
“Bree, I’m telling you, I’m fine.” Nathan cuts me off with a pleading voice. He really does not want to talk about this right now, and judging by the way his face has gone pink, I think he’s embarrassed. “C’mon. Let’s go have a good time.”
I nod, taking pity on him and his embarrassment. We can talk about all of this later when we’re in private. “Okay, let’s do this thing.”
Nathan takes my hand and turns us toward the room. That’s when I really look at the crowd for the first time, and now it’s my turn to freeze. This glitzy, glamorous party tent is stuffed with important famous people. Athletes from every sport. Actors and singers. I doubt there is a single normal person here. Correction: There is exactly ONE normal person, and it’s me.
“Changed my mind, I want to go home.” I let go of Nathan’s arm and take five retreating steps backward right into a giant standing poster.
I wish I could say I just bump it lightly and everything is okay. But no. It happens in slow motion. I feel the thin paper at my back, but my high heel gets stuck on the stand that’s propping it up. I feel myself falling backward and see Nathan’s eyes go wide and his mouth forms my name. His hands shoot out to grab me, but he’s not fast enough. I careen backward right though the poster and hear it rip right down the middle. On the bright side, I don’t fall to the ground. I somehow manage to stumble on my feet. On the dark side, I now stand in the middle of a nine-foot-tall ripped poster, and every eye in the event is on me.
Yep, I’m going to throw up. I turn around to quickly grab each side of the torn poster and stick it back together. And now I realize belatedly that this poster I have torn is a Goliath-sized image of a naked Nathan Donelson, and my hands are directly holding his hands…aka his hands that are holding the football that’s perfectly positioned in front of him to keep this photo PG-13. Realization dawns on me as I look around and find many similar posters of other athletes, all featuring one of their photos from the form issue. I then see a photo op station in the corner with a backdrop that reads “FORM ISSUE’S 10TH BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION!” There are fake illustrated muscles you can use as props. Cute.
Right. I’m face to thighs with Nathan’s blown-up naked form, looking like the biggest pervert in the room. Time speeds back up. I yelp and drop the poster. Naked Nathan floats in the wind as he separates and falls limply open, showing how I’ve completely ruined what was probably a couple-hundred-dollar poster. I hear several laughs behind me and a few oh nos, but mainly it’s heavy silence. My face is so hot it’s going to melt off my bones.