Scandalized

Alec laughs. “I wanted you here, but you look uncomfortable. It was selfish.”

I glance to the room behind him. “I’m okay, I promise. I just—” I look back at him and laugh. “You’ll get maybe one minute with me before you go.”

“I just like knowing you’re here,” he says. “Does that make sense?”

I nod. It does make sense. Everything about him just makes sense.

He looks like he wants to kiss me. His cheeks are flushed, eyes bright. In my peripheral vision, I see the woman from the chair lead Trevor Noah out of the greenroom, and only seconds later, sound reaches us. I can hear people screaming. Women screaming. It sounds like a cloud of bees, a roaring swarm.

I don’t think I’m ready to be truly faced with the reality of his celebrity yet. All of our moments up to now—except for the airport in LA—have been just us. Him as a man, me as a woman. The two of us falling forward into something neither of us can really label. I’m not a person who ever wanted something like this. Being with a celebrity isn’t in my fantasy spank bank. I want the Seattle hotel, the LA hotel. I want our beach day; I want last night, goofing off with Eden. I want later, in my bed, with him telling me again how he needs to find a new word to describe my expression when he touches me. I want to hear him say again that he’s desperate for me.

Alec captures my chin with his thumb and finger, redirecting my attention so that I meet his eyes. “Don’t.”

“How can I not?” I shake my head, laughing. “I knew, but I didn’t realize.”

“Look at my face.” He stares at me, and his focus is so intense that slowly, the sound of screaming ebbs away. The periphery turns milky white. “I need to ask you something important.”

I bite back a smile at his earnest sincerity. “Okay.”

“You don’t have to answer right now, but I probably won’t get another chance today.”

“Okay.”

He leans in, and his lips are so close I feel them moving against the shell of my ear. “I think you should move into my suite for the remainder of my stay.” I feel a pop in my ears as my brain equilibrates. Alec pulls back, wide-eyed, gauging my reaction before leaning back in, moving on. “You can work from there. We won’t have to worry about press or moving back and forth. We can maximize the time we have left.”

“So that it can be even harder when you go?” I say unintentionally—the words just fly out of me, unattended.

Frowning, he looks back and forth between my eyes before dropping his focus to my lips. He licks his, like he’s thinking about how it would feel to press his mouth to mine, and instinctively, I lick mine, too.

“Well,” he says finally. “That’s why you don’t have to answer now. Just send me a text. If the answer is yes, I can give you a key.”

The cast is led out and the rest of us follow in a long, disorganized mob of hangers-on. Eden and I have no instruction as to where to stand or what we’re expected to do, but once we emerge out to the event space, I forget to be at all concerned with that. Because all I can focus on is the wall of sound, the sea of people.

The room is massive, filled with rows and rows and rows of seats, and there must be no fire marshal within shouting distance, because standing bodies line the side and back walls. At the front of the room is a long table with chairs for each of the invited guests, with name placards crisply propped on the white tablecloth. As the group files in and the West Midlands team find their seats, the room shakes with noise. It takes Trevor a good minute to get everyone to settle down so that he can make introductions. And after that, there is a short Q&A session before the signing.

None of the questions mean much to me; they are about previous seasons, or teaser tidbits for what’s coming up. One or two are personal in nature, even though fans were requested not to ask those. Is Ben dating that singer? He reminds the audience he’s married. Are Alexander and Elodie together in real life? They both give vaguely unconvincing answers, but I get it: the rumor keeps viewers locked in.

I focus less on listening to his answers than I do on noticing Alec’s easy manner in front of a crowd this size. I would be a fidgety, stammering mess; even when he’s answering something that seems impossibly intimate, he seems to slow down, settle into his spine. His deep, quiet voice takes on a sparkling, flirtatious edge.

He wants me to stay in his hotel room with him. Would that be insane? I’m already hungry for every second I can get with him, but watching him like this makes me feel like a greedy monster, plotting how I can sneak behind the table and drag his chair behind the BBC-Netflix curtain to put my hands all over him.

Just as I have this thought, a voice rises up from beside me. “This trip is a novelty for him.”

I look over, surprised to find Yael standing not two feet away. “I’m sorry?”

“Alexander.” She lifts her chin, indicating the man himself now welcoming the first group of fans at the signing table. “This trip isn’t how things usually are,” she says. “The time he has with you?” She looks at me, brows raised as if I might not know what she means. “He doesn’t generally have time for relationships.”

I rarely go mentally blank, but right now I have no idea what I’m supposed to say to this. “I’m sure he’s really busy.”

“He is.” She pauses and then delivers her thesis: “I don’t want you to have expectations, Georgia.”

Still at a loss for words, I can only give her a little nod so that she knows I’ve heard her. Expectations? I don’t know what that means. He just invited me to stay in his hotel with him for the rest of his trip. Maybe her first conversation should be with him, not me.

Yael walks away, leaving me staring at Alec as he leans in to hear a teenage fan better. He ducks down to her level, making eye contact. I know exactly what she feels right now with those warm brown eyes fixed right on hers: that teenager feels like the only person in this entire room. But for me, the room spins. Alec invited me here. Asked me to stay with him in his suite, and his assistant is telling me I should leave him alone. Of course I want to be near him, but I also want to do what’s best for him.

“Am I supposed to pretend I didn’t hear that?” Eden asks from my other side.

“No.”