When we make it through the throng of media and into the terminal building, Matt doesn’t relax at all. Lines of people fill the space, and there’s not much room to move.
Matt doesn’t stop glancing around as if looking for an emergency exit.
When we finally get to the front of our line and check in our baggage, we’re given our room keys but told the rooms aren’t open yet.
Matt tries to hide it, but he tenses, and his eyes practically bug out of his head. He needs to get away from the crowds before he freezes up again or, even worse, loses it in front of everyone.
I lean in and lower my voice as I ask the check-in lady, “Is that really true or is it more convenient if we’re not in the rooms?” I tip my head in Matt’s direction. “You know who that is? Think we can catch a break here?”
The woman looks Matt up and down, and her eyes light up in recognition. “I’ll have a look for you, sir.” She types something into her computer. “Housekeeping has your room all set, so you’re free to go there. I’ll put a push on getting your luggage to you immediately.”
“Thank you.”
The plan is to take Matt straight to the room until he chills the fuck out, but as soon as we clear the gangway and reach the welcoming lounge, we both stop short at a woman wearing a towel and hissing at Damon and Maddox.
“Who the hell is that?” Matt asks.
I recognize her when she flips her wet, blonde hair. “That’s Stacy. Damon’s sister. Looks like he’s in trouble.”
“Should we—”
I put my hand on his chest to prevent him from going over there. “Don’t. You don’t want to see Stacy pissed. And considering she’s only wearing a towel and yelling? No one on this ship is safe.”
We leave Maddox and Damon to their tongue lashing and try to find our room. The halls of the ship are so narrow they barely fit Matt’s wide frame. When we weave our way past guests and finally find our room, we can’t get inside fast enough. Matt leans against the door and breathes a huge sigh of relief.
OTS must be cheap-asses to put us up in a regular stateroom instead of a suite, but I won’t voice that aloud. Everyone already sees me as the spoiled rich guy, and at least we have a balcony.
“What the fuck was that?” Matt asks.
“Stacy yelling at Damon or—”
“The kiss.”
“Oh, we’re still on that, are we?”
“That’s not … we’re not … we need some ground rules.”
God, this guy is unbelievable. “Dunno if you know this, but boyfriends kiss, and the vultures on your ass think we’re together. Also, you were about to flip your shit at them. You didn’t give me much option.”
“This is a business arrangement, and I don’t know what your game is yet, but I ain’t gonna let you use me to get famous or land a reality show or whatever you’re here for.”
“There goes my dream of becoming a regular on Keeping Up with the Kardashians,” I say dryly. “Are you seriously this pessimistic?”
“Well, you cain’t be here for the money. You’re loaded.” The angrier he gets, the more drawled his words become, and I hate that it’s adorable.
“I’m not even getting paid. I’m here as a favor, you jackass.”
Wow, about an hour into our relationship, we’re already fighting. This is only one of the reasons I don’t do real relationships. What was I thinking saying yes to this?
You know why, my conscience reminds me.
“Are you really standing there telling me there’s nothin’ in this for you? Why would you agree to this?” Matt asks.
“Because Damon’s probably the closest person to me in this world, and he asked me to do it. Maybe, I’m a decent guy.” Underneath all the bullshit.
Matt stares at me as if he doesn’t believe me.
I roll my eyes. “Believe what you want, but trust me when I say I don’t have to play tricks or manipulate you to get my face in the media. I’ve already got it by standing next to you. You’re everywhere.”
“I don’t want to be everywhere,” he yells. “I just wanna play football. It’s all I fucking have.” Matt sits on the bed and runs his hands through his wild hair. “Had.”
I grit my teeth and squeeze his shoulder in a reassuring gesture, even if he is being an ass. “And I’m here to help you get football back.” Annoying my dad in the process is just a bonus. “How about we go find Damon and see what’s on our agenda?”
“We have an agenda?”
“He told me about some magazine shoot and interview, but I don’t know when that is.”
“W-what?” Matt pales. “I’m not doing interviews.”
I throw my hands up. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”