Promise Me

Or maybe I’m tempted because it’s him? Attraction is one thing, but a man who listens without flinching while I unpack more emotional baggage than he could possibly have bargained for? I could really fall for him.

I place the fork on the plate at the wayward thought and lean away. “Yes, I think so. But I’m here for the summer.” Getting too attached will just break my heart and, given the delicate state it’s still in, that’s a mistake I can’t afford. Time for a reality check. “And we’re on very different trajectories. You’re destined for fame, be it from America Rocks or something else, you’re going to get there. I would never want that spotlight to somehow spill over onto me. I can’t hold up to it, and I can’t do it to Mason, my parents, or his. I need my p

rivacy.”

“Kendall, I would never tell anybody the things you told me tonight.”

I clasp his hand. “I know you wouldn’t, but as your career takes off, your fans will be curious about your life. Especially who you’re friendly with. The media will do their best to feed that curiosity.”

Vaughn breaks eye contact to motion to the waiter for our check. “Right now, this summer, I can keep things on the down-low. Even friendship. I promise.”

The coil of tension inside me loosens. I finger-comb his hair back from his forehead and can’t help giving him a smile. “Friends for the summer?”

“Friends forever,” he corrects, and adds a wink. “Down-low for the summer. You up for a movie or something?”

I love that he doesn’t want our date to end, but after getting so little sleep last night, I’m tired. I also know myself. I need some time alone to process everything. Sharing Mason with him has left me feeling a new kind of vulnerability.

“I’m actually pretty wiped. Another time?”

“Absolutely.”

We talk about less charged topics on the drive home—things I like about Los Angeles, things I miss about New York, and whether one is required to root for “da Bears” when one attends school in Illinois. We’re laughing at each other’s Chicaaaago accents by the time he parks in my aunt’s driveway. He’s out of the car and around to my door before I release my seatbelt. His bigger, stronger hand takes mine to help me out. Our fingers remain comfortably entwined on the short walk to the front door.

“Thank you for dinner,” I say. “I’m really glad we talked.” The words aren’t exactly the right ones given everything I’ve revealed. But specific, more meaningful words would be too much. They’d put too much pressure on both of us.

He releases my hand and, rather than step forward to give me a kiss good night like I think he will, he takes a step back. “Me, too.”

I refuse to read anything negative into the distance he’s putting between us. Tonight was intimate enough without adding anything physical, and I know he doesn’t want to pressure me on “the whole virginity thing.” Still, I can’t stop myself from leaning forward and going up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Good night.”

He lets out a long breath, the only indication I have that separating is equally hard for him. That he wants more, but he’s taking my another time to heart.

“Good night, angel.” He backs up another step. Then another and another, his eyes never leaving mine.

When he pauses, I think maybe he’s changed his mind about a more serious kiss, but he doesn’t retrace his steps. “You busy Saturday night?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Come to dinner at my house.”

“I thought you didn’t cook.”

“I have a few skills. Trust me to get it right.” One corner of his mouth curves up into a very wicked smile. “What have you got to lose?”

The question puts a tremble in my stomach. We both know exactly what I have to lose. “Okay.”

“Seven?” he asks, as if any woman could say no when he uses that grin.

“Seven.” I watch his retreat, waiting until I hear his car start before I slip my key in the lock and turn the handle. Once inside, I press my back against the thick wood and let out a long, uneven breath.

Hello, virginity? It’s me, Kendall. I know we’ve been through a lot together, but I think it’s time to give you up.

Chapter Fourteen

Vaughn

There are worse ways to spend a Tuesday afternoon than on the terrace of a suite at The Peninsula. I’ve been to the posh Beverly Hills hotel before, for parties and events, but this is the first time I’ve been here for work. Sitting on a cushioned chair under a shady awning surrounded by two beautiful women might not look like work, but I’m five hours into day two of a music video shoot for the first single from last year’s America Rocks winner’s debut album, and I can personally attest to the fact it is work.

I’d like to think being cast for Laney Albright’s video means I’m a lock for show host, but it doesn’t work that way. The America Rocks producers don’t oversee the recording side. They partner with a major record label, and it’s the label who finances the album, videos, and associated music promotion stuff. To separate things by another degree, the video production company is a completely independent entity, so it’s not like an America Rocks casting director put me in this chair. At least not directly.