Wait, I wanted to yell at Kyle, you're not supposed to be talking! But he was on a roll. I couldn't have stopped him even if I dared to try.
"Lowell always looks beautiful," Katie said quickly, "even when she's puking."
"Aw thanks, I think so too," Kyle said, ignoring her taunt. He planted his hand firmly on my ass, and I had to literally bite my tongue so I didn't bite off his head instead. "She's gorgeous no matter what."
He turned to me and nuzzled his nose against mine. I could later blame my high-quality thespian skills for kicking in, but I pressed my chest against his and gazed at him adoringly, playing along.
I turned back to Katie. "It's great that I have such a wonderful boyfriend to support me during this difficult time."
"Do you want to comment further about last night?" she asked me, barely containing the glee in her voice.
"Lowell would love to tell her side of the story about last night's incident, but I'm afraid that's going to be an exclusive," Kyle answered immediately. He made a phone motion and winked. "Call us. You might be the lucky reporter who lands that interview."
She hastily got out her cell phone, scrambling to add Kyle's information. "How can I get in touch with you?"
But Kyle had already moved on to the next journalist, a crocodile smile on his face and his hand fastened securely to my ass.
"Lowell!" the next reporter called. "How're you feeling today?"
"I have a headache," I called back and laughed shakily.
"Do you have any comment? About why you have a headache?"
"I do." I took a deep breath and nodded at him. We stopped on the carpet, and I tried to gather my courage. "I just want to say thank you to all law enforcement who serve the wonderful city of Los Angeles, and all of the police officers in this great country. They keep us safe and protect us. No matter how poorly I acted last night, I'm always grateful for what they risk and all they do to keep us safe."
"How do you feel about what happened, Lowell?" another reporter called.
"I feel ashamed. And hungover," I admitted. Kyle hugged me tightly, and I was relieved to have him to hold on to. "I'm so lucky I have such a supportive boyfriend to see me through this difficult time."
This is my story, and I'm sticking to it.
Kyle beamed and leaned over me. "You're doing very well," he said, brushing his lips across my cheek. "Let's give them a kiss. A real one. Go big or go home, and all."
"No," I insisted, mortified. I'd never kissed a guy in front of cameras before.
He didn't listen. He put his mouth over mine and gently kissed me. Then he got less gentle.
And then I started kissing him back.
Heat coursed through me as he pressed his lips against mine. My knees wobbled, and a thousand flashes went off around us. Then just as quickly as he'd started, he stopped. He pulled back and smiled at me devilishly.
"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" he whispered.
My head was swimming as I looked at him. Then I remembered where I was. And who he was. "I've had worse."
I pulled back from him and turned to smile sheepishly at the press. "I'm a lucky girl. Unconditional love is exactly what I need right now. Kyle's giving me the strength I need to face this."
"You are lucky," one of the female reporters said, eyeing Kyle appreciatively. "How long have you two been together?"
"Just long enough to know we're meant for each other," Kyle said immediately. About a thousand more flashes went off. "Now if you'll excuse us, we have sneakers to try on."
"Kyle!" they called, more flashes popping. They were worked up into a frenzy.
"Kyle, are you a mansplainer?" one of the reporters called.
He stopped. "Absolutely not. I believe in listening first." He kept that smile on his face and that hand on my ass as we headed into the event.
"I see you don't have a problem with Lowell's behind!" one of the male photographers called.