“It’s perfect.”You’re perfect.
Whoa, where did that come from?I try to shake the thought from my head.
She shrugs and takes a step forward. “I better head out. Trent said there’s a car waiting.”
I don’t move to let her pass. Hot damn. I can’t believe how beautiful she looks. The outfit. The hair. Makeup, too. She doesn’t need it. God knows I’ve caught myself staring at her natural beauty all week, but this transformation is almost unbelievable. Someone’s not in Kansas anymore. “You heading to the interviews?”
“Yeah.” She parts her lips in a soft smile.
Bingo. There’s no way I’m passing up this opportunity for one-on-one time. “Can I catch a ride?”
She glances at the watch on her wrist and bites at her plump lower lip. “Sure.”
“One second.” I turn to Kellie and Stu who are unusually quiet. “Bedo said to check in.”
“Yeah.” Kellie walks over to her makeup station and picks up a pair of glasses. “When you’re not on stage, wear these.” She tosses them to me.
Thankfully I catch them before they drop to the ground. Staring at the thick black rims, I’m totally confused as to why my uncle would think I need eyewear. I’ve had perfect twenty-twenty vision my entire life. “But I don’t—”
“We decided. It’s for your signature look. Nerds are in.” Kellie rolls her eyes and I’d put money on the fact she’s not attracted to nerds.
“Embrace the sexy nerd,” Stu says dramatically.
“Thanks?” I slide them on, not sure if he’s making fun or offering serious advice.
“Don’t mention it.” He throws me a wink before I turn and follow Opal out the door.
We walk toward the back exit and it takes all of my willpower to not reach out and press my hand into the small of her back. The click of her heeled boots on the cement walkway is almost as distracting as the boots themselves. Seriously, her legs go on forever. How have I not noticed this before?
“I think Stu likes you.” Opal’s lips pull up with her grin.
“I think you might be right.” I push the door open and wait for her to pass first.
The car is waiting and our driver steps out to open the door. “Miss Evans?”
“That’s me,” she says and slides into the seat, scooting across to make room for me to follow. She glances over, her lips pulling into an amused grin.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nice glasses.” She lets loose a giggle.
I groan and slide them off my nose. “I look stupid, don’t I?”
“No!” She shakes her head. “They look good. Different.”
“I guess I should be grateful they care so much about my image.” My face twists with the idea I’ve traded one dog and pony show for another. I came here to be free, not to be told what to wear and how to act, and yet that’s exactly what’s happening.
“Hey, they’re just glasses.” She reaches out, her long fingers settling atop mine. The gesture is unexpected and kind.
I feel like an even bigger fool throwing a fit about a pair of stupid glasses. I should keep my mouth shut. I shouldn’t divulge any parts of my life from before this tour, but I need to explain why it bothers me so much. “Growing up, my parents dictated a lot of what I could and couldn’t do. What to wear. What kind of music was acceptable to listen to or play. What to do with my life.” I twirl the frames in my hand. “It’s suffocating pretending to be someone I’m not.”
I lift my gaze to gauge her reaction. Her lips are full and pouty, her eyes intense, but I can’t tell whether it’s only the added makeup.
“You probably think I’m overreacting.”
“No. I understand. I grew up in a very strict household.” She rubs her hands together in her lap. “I wasn’t allowed to make my own choices. I can’t imagine going back to that.”
“So, you get what I’m saying then? I don’t mean to come off as some spoiled rich kid, but I can’t help where I came from.”
