Page 9 of The Only Thing That's Real
She makes her second shot, the cue ball landing at my end of the table. “What were you saying, Con?”
She’s already using his nickname?
“Well, I’m used to playing with old guys like Knox and my dad. I kick their butts all the time.”
“Is that so?” she questions him, doubt in her voice.
“Totally. Right, Knox?” Connor does his best to sound convincing. His eyes are begging me not to sell him out.
Well, well, well. I thinkConmight have himself a crush on an older woman.
He’s talking out of his ass. He knows it. I know it, and I’m pretty sure Ryan knows it. But being the good wingman I am, I play along.
“Yep. He’s a pool shark.”
I’m not technically lying. For his age, he’s great. Do I beat him seventy-five percent of the time? I do. We spent our youth in bars playing pool before and after gigs. His dad and I are practically pros. But he’s not bad. We let him win now and then.
“Well, we’ll have to play again to find out because I’m about to sink this ball and win the game,” Ryan says with a smile just before she strikes the cue ball, sending it into her next shot. “Unless theold guy,as I believe you called him, wants to play winner.”
I have no idea what she hit or where because her eyes are on me again and I’m drowning. Drowning in her intoxicating beauty without a floatation device. My lungs constrict as I fight for air. As drawn to her as I am, the only thing that feels appropriate is to flee.
Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I pretend to check my schedule. “Sorry, I totally forgot I have to be somewhere, kiddo. How bout a rain check?” I aim my apology and my rain check in Connor’s direction, avoiding eye contact with Ryan. If I look at her again, I may get pulled under and never come back up.
Never breathe again.
“Sure,” he says much too quickly and rather pleasantly. IfI’m not mistaken, he’s happy to see me go. He doesn’t need me now that the hot journalist is here. He wants all of her attention.
I get it, kid.
“Later.”
I don’t wait for replies, and I don’t look back on my way to the door that will lead me to the hallway, where I can hopefully take a full breath again.
Chapter Four
Ryan
The mile counter on the treadmill finally hits mile three after what feels like I’ve run a half marathon. Four miles is my routine, but not today, Satan. I’m exhausted. Slowing the speed on the machine, I begin my cooldown.
If I hadn’t been waiting Knox out, I might have quit sooner. He was lifting weights when I arrived at the hotel gym this morning.
The band has the gym reserved at the same time every day at each hotel they stay in. This access extends to the road crew and because I’ve got the credentials to get backstage, I have gym access during the reserved time as well. I’ve seen the allusive star the last four mornings.
We still haven’t had our one-on-one interview. Have I approached him? Well, no. Has he offered to sitdown with me? Of course not. For now, I’m leaving him alone. Eventually, though, he’s going to have to get over himself and meet with me. In the meantime, I’ll work with the rest of the band while somehow earning Knox McKinnon’s trust.
Since he walked out of our interview, there’s been no avoiding him. He was in the Clark’s suite the same day he walked out of our interview. He wasn’t as cold as he had been, likely because Connor was there, but I’d have been a fool to miss how quickly he left after I arrived. The band let me come to their day of show meetings and he pretended I wasn’t in the room. Just like he did at dinner the last two nights.
I still can’t figure out if he’s not into the project like his manager keeps telling me, or if he simply doesn’t want to work with me. He hasn’t given me the time of day. A hello or the bird. Pretty sure if I stood directly in front of him, he’d walk right through me as if I wasn’t there.
Stalling, I leave the treadmill behind, making my way over to the corner of the room, and using the foam roller to work out my tired muscles. I may or may not have been watching him in the window’s reflection. God was I relieved to watch him go. I couldn’t slow my machine down fast enough. Now, I’m taking my time in the hopes he’ll be out of the vicinity when I leave.
Once my muscles are relaxed and a safe amount of time has passed, I drag my tired body out of the gym, to the elevator. I’m not sure if I’m truly tired or I’m already mentally and emotionally exhausted because I’m going home in a couple days.
Billie Eilish flows through my earbuds and I’m daydreaming about my impending nap when I push the upbutton at the elevator bay. In my own little world, singing about birds of a feather, I step inside once the elevator doors open and I’m taken off guard when I feel the presence of another person stepping inside behind me. My quiet singing comes to a screeching halt. I know who it is without looking. There’s something palpable in the air when he’s near that always twists me up inside. Sure enough, he’s standing in front of me when I turn around.
Well, shit.
This is it. Time to take my first baby-step to getting him to trust me. All I need to do is make some small talk. Keep it light. No pressure. Baby steps.
