Love at The Bluebird

Good Lord, he’s turning me into a hot mess!

“I better let you go before you’re late. Text me when you arrive at work so I know you’re safe,” he demands, and all I can do is nod.

“See you later,” I manage to say before walking around to the driver’s side and getting in my car. I start the engine, look at the side mirror for oncoming cars, and then ease into traffic. I glance in my rearview mirror and catch him still watching me drive away.

My spine tingles at the thought of seeing him again. Tonight is going to be a good night; I can feel it. Now, I just have to somehow make it through the day without counting the hours down until I get to see him again.

Chapter Seven

GAVIN

AS SOON AS Aly’s car disappears from my line of vision, I call Bruce, my recording engineer, to see if he can start working earlier than previously scheduled. In this industry, most of us don’t start work until 11:00 a.m. due to the late hours we keep, sometimes not even until after lunch. He doesn’t answer, so I leave him a voicemail and send him a text message. Today’s session isn’t for me but for another artist, so I have to make sure everyone involved can accommodate the schedule change. If not, then I’ll just cut the session short if we aren’t done by the time I need to leave for the Exit/In. Getting to spend time with Aly tonight is an opportunity I refuse to miss out on, especially with a few out-of-town performances I have coming up.

Breakfast this morning only left me hungry for more time with her. I loved making her laugh, watching the emotions of her facial expressions when talking with her, even when the subject matter turned sad discussing her father and my brother. This morning when I woke up, I thought I imagined those crazy, intense feelings I had last night, but they all came crashing over me the moment I saw her gorgeous smile.

Never once did the conversation feel forced and the only issue was that I struggled to keep my hands to myself. I wanted skin-to-skin contact with her, even if it was just holding her hand. The force of our sexual chemistry almost had me pushing her against her car to devour those lips I so desperately want to taste. Just thinking about all the things I want to do to her makes my cock ache. I’m not alone in my desire; I saw it in her eyes when I was holding her. I know if things continue between us, I won’t be able to restrain myself for very long, so hopefully I can prove I’m serious about her.

About us.

I just hope I don’t scare her off with my intensity. I don’t want to waste time playing games, because first, that’s just not how I’m wired. Second, taking things slow means it’ll take longer to figure out if she’s who I think she is to me. I can tell Aly’s guard is up because of my profession, and I get why she’d be more cautious about getting to know me. Then again, if we continue on, we’ll both have to prove we’re loyal to each other and build the trust that is so necessary to have, especially in this industry.

While walking to my car, I pass a flower shop and go in to send Aly some flowers. Since I don’t know what her favorites are, I choose ones that remind me of her: white sunflowers for the happiness she seems to radiate, gardenias for how intoxicating she smells, and calla lilies that represent her beauty. The flowers are perfect for her, and once the florist describes how she’ll arrange them, I look up Aly’s work address and pay for my purchase, knowing she will love them when they get delivered. I leave the shop and decide I might as well go work out, since I haven’t heard back from Bruce. I get into my car and drive to the gym, and as soon as I pull into the parking lot, my cell phone starts ringing with a call from Sosie.

“Are you still at Star Bagel?” she asks before I even get a chance to say hello.

“How did you know I was at Star Bagel?” Dread starts to fill me at the thought of how she found out, since I never told her I was going.

“Pictures of you and Alyson are all over the internet. My phone is ringing off the hook from news stations and reporters asking if I can provide a statement on who the mystery lady you were kissing was.”

“Shit!” I yell into the phone, angry that I can’t even eat a fucking meal out in public anymore. This is the ugly side to fame, where you lose all rights to your privacy. Some people don’t care, because they want to be famous, but I’m not that person. It was the main reason why I hesitated releasing “User” on my own, but the idea of someone else singing my story didn’t settle well with me. Now, anyone who’s with me will pay the price of losing their freedom of anonymity.