Break It Up (2 page)

“Oh yeah? Sweet!” He turned away, shutting me out of the group once more.

That’s when my gaze fell on Zach Wechsler and my knees turned to jelly. Everyone knows he’s the hottest member of the group. (Though some people get really into Ben’s “bad boy” vibe—because all it takes to qualify as “bad” by Triple Cross standards is to take your shirt off after a concert and tell an interviewer how much your manager hates it when you do that. People think he’s such a rebel.)

Zach embodies the band’s clean-cut image. His wardrobe is always impeccable and his hair perfectly styled to flop in his eyes in just the right way. He exudes trustworthiness and good family values. You could imagine living next door to him and having him take you on dates where he did nothing more than kiss you on the lips.

Only, no girl would endure that it if actually happened because he’s also
smoking hot
. His t-shirt was stretched taught over his toned chest, and through the fabric of his jeans, I could make out his muscular quads. His hands were on his hips and he looked over the crowd with an air of disapproval.

My friends were making enough of a scene that I could watch him while he watched them, his steely gray eyes taking in their antics.

I stifled the urge to whimper and fought not to tremble. I was going all fangirl here, ready to melt into a puddle at his feet. He was even more gorgeous in person, and I was now one of the rare females who knew that for a fact.

His gaze turned to me and all thoughts of trying to talk to or flirt with him fled. For one thing, he was out of my league. Any girl would drop her panties for him anytime. He’d already met a million needy groupies just like me. For another, he clearly didn’t like my friends’ antics, and I didn’t know any other way to get a guy’s attention. This was definitely not going to be my night to make a good impression.

I gripped my hands together and did my best to withstand the intensity of his gaze. It was like being in the beam of a police car spotlight. (Yes, I do know what that feels like. Shirtless, no less. This was worse.) I felt as if his gaze could burn right through me. Etiquette told me to say hello or something, but I just froze under his scrutiny.
Look away
, I thought.
Please
.

Instead, he took a step in my direction. Then another.

I wanted
to hide. Zach Wechsler was walking towards me. “Hey,” he said. “I’m Zach.” Unlike his little brother, he didn’t put out his hand.

“Kyra,” I said. “Hi. I, um, your assistant called me because we met on the set of
Insider.
I worked in craft services there last summer.”
Kyra
, I thought.
Stop. Babbling
. I pressed my lips shut, then realized I had no idea what to do instead.

“Oh yeah?” he said. “That your regular job?”

“N-no. I just did that the summer before my senior year. Of high school. I live here. I was just in New York for that shoot.”

He nodded as if I were speaking in coherent sentences rather than bursts of nervous chatter. “Did you like that job?”

“Sure. Yeah. My stepmom’s a chef. So. Yeah. And my uncle’s an actor. I mean…yeah.”

“Who’s your uncle?”

Great, now I would look like I was name dropping. “Jason Vanderholt.”

Both his eyebrows shot up, but then he caught himself. “Oh. Right. He’s from here, isn’t he?”

I nodded. I was trying so hard to keep still that my muscles began to fatigue. I was making a total fool of myself.

What was worse was that Zach noticed. He frowned at the way I wrung my hands. Then he turned to look at the rest of the room. “Let me guess,” he said. “Not close friends of yours?”

“Um. No.”

“Come on. Sit next to me.” He jerked his head in the direction of the table.

My mouth went dry. There was no way I could eat a meal right next to Zach Wechsler. I’d spill my water all over him and get food down my front. He’d probably wonder if I had some kind of seizure disorder.

Sensing my hesitation, he leaned down and looked me right in the eye. “I don’t bite.”

“I know.” The stress was more than I could take and the floodgates in me burst. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m even doing here. I shouldn’t have come.” And that is how I, Kyra Armijo, the most shameless girl in Albuquerque, tried to escape a conversation with the guy of my dreams.

I only managed to back up two steps before he caught me by the shoulder and angled his body to shield me from the rest of the room.

“It’s cool,” he said. “All right?”

I was really shaking now; even my breathing was mixed with shudders. It didn’t matter how many famous people I’d met. This was different. Zach was
the
guy of my fantasies.

“Listen, I’d really like it if you sat with me. I’m not exactly into…” He glanced back over his shoulder. “All this, if you get what I mean.”

Well, in my daydreams he was totally into “all that,” but standing here with him brought about a deep sense of shame. A tear slipped out of my eye and down my cheek. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

He leaned forward and swiped the tear away with his thumb. “I’ll tell you a secret. Triple Cross? We’re a bunch of losers. Seriously. Without our wardrobe people and our stylists and our publicists, people would know the truth. We’re just three random guys from South Dakota.”

He was being so nice to me and still had his body angled so no one else saw my meltdown. There was no way this guy was a “loser” by any stretch of the imagination. But falling to pieces would only make an unbearable situation mortifying. I took a deep breath and tried to pull myself together. “Thanks,” I said.

I imagined Zach sitting by me at dinner and touching my knee every now and then. I imagined him coaxing me back to his room and then into bed. I imagined him sliding his hand up my skirt, triumphant in his conquest. I imagined shutting my eyes, unable to process what was happening to me.
Kyra,
I scolded myself.
Quit it. He’s right here.

He didn’t touch me again, though. He just gestured for me to take a seat, and when he sat next to me, he didn’t move to touch his knee to mine. No, he wasn’t on the make. He was just being nice to the clueless, freaked out girl.

I crossed my ankles, squared my shoulders, and gave him a grateful smile. “You probably meet fans like me all the time, huh?”

He shook his head. “No. Up until last week, I barely ever met any fans of any kind. I shared space with them. Shook their hands sometimes. But I never really talked to any of them.”

“Oh.”

“So…” He lowered his voice. “I don’t have any idea what I’m doing here either. Think you can bluff with me?”

Much to my surprise, I laughed, and just the act of laughing burned off more of my nervous energy, like a valve release on a pressure cooker. “Yeah, all right.”

The rest of the crowd saw us sit down and followed suit. I ended up with Ben seated on the other side of me, but Brandy and Marissa were both intent on keeping his attention. He barely looked my direction.

When the waiter came to take our orders, my old habits kicked in and saved me. I picked something from the middle of the price range that I knew took some effort to cook. Jen, my stepmother, always curled her lip at things that any old person could throw together. “Why come order from a place with a chef if you just want something you can make yourself?” was what she always said.

While we waited for the food to come, I watched my friends fall all over themselves to keep Ben’s attention while Logan looked on like a curious puppy. Brandy had clearly claimed him for herself, because she kept turning to pat his knee as if to say, “It’s all good, sweetie. I’m yours tonight. I’m just showing off how hot I am to Ben.”

It was torture to observe, because this is exactly what I would have done a year ago and I never realized how it looked until now. I’d thought I was the ultimate strong woman, able to stride into any room and take control. I’d thought the looks guys gave me were worshipful and that any disapproval of my behavior was based on jealousy.

But now that I had some distance, I saw it all differently. Brandy and Marissa looked needy. Then again, I thought, neither of them is much like me. Maybe they would have fun tonight and enjoy the bragging rights afterwards. I needed to not project my issues onto them.

A glance to my left revealed, to my utter shock, that Zach was watching me. I did my best to suppress my start of surprise, but he noticed and smiled.

“Sorry,” I said. “Um, yeah.”

He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table. Again, he didn’t touch me. He gave me space. “I take it dinners out with your uncle aren’t like this?”

“They used to be. Kinda. I mean, he never brought fans to family stuff, but they’d follow him anyway.”

“Used to be?”

I shrugged. “He’s a different person now.”

“What happened?”

“Um.” Again I shrugged. “He fell in love?” Jason used to have to be the center of attention all the time, as if the world dying to know every little stupid detail about him wasn’t enough. Then one time he brought Chloe to dinner with us, which I thought was ridiculous. It was bad enough to have girls pawing at the windows while we ate. Now he brought one in?

She was different, though. She didn’t pander to his fame or his hotness. In fact, I wasn’t sure she even liked him. He could’ve pulled off his shirt and started dancing and she’d probably have rolled her eyes and kept on eating. I love her.

Ever since, he has calmed down a lot. He clearly wanted nothing more than to be with this woman he loved. When they got married, he was a whole different kind of annoying, an “I’m on a high and never coming down so deal with me” kind of annoying. It was pretty cute.

Chloe was lucky.

“So the tabloid reports that he’s cheating?” said Zach

“He wouldn’t do that,” I said with a lot more heat than necessary. “Sorry.” I caught myself. “Chloe’s just… it’s hard for her, you know? She’s not into this whole fame thing, and it makes me mad that the press would pick on her.”

“You guys close? You and her?”

“I hope so.” I never got why Chloe was nice to me. Once she caught Jason’s eye, I just sort of followed her around like a lost puppy. She had it all so together. Jason was eating out of her hand but she didn’t feed into the hype surrounding that.

Yeah, she deserved to have Prince Charming fall at her feet.

Zach leaned down to catch my eye again. “Sorry if I offended you, asking about the cheating rumors.”

“It’s fine. I’m sure you know how that goes.”

“Um… maybe. No. I mean, I’ve never read any of my bad press.”

“At all?”

He shook his head.

“Even by accident?”

“No.”

“You’ve never Googled yourself?”

He shook his head. “No. My mom kept a pretty tight lid on that kind of thing.”

“How?”

“By having absolute control.” He leaned back, as if to distance himself from this topic.

“Oh, right,” I said, tying it off with a shrug I hoped said, “I don’t care. I won’t pry.”

Our food arrived a few minutes later, and I managed to eat it without making a mess. Zach only picked at his salad and watched me eat, which was totally nerve-racking, but I did my best to ignore it. Aidan, the guy who still hadn’t told us what his job was with the band, sat across from me, though he spent much of his time watching my friends flirt up a storm and barely even glanced my direction.

After we were done and our plates cleared away, Ben said, “Would you ladies like to accompany us back to our hotel?”

He needn’t have asked, of course. My friends accepted at once.

Zach touched my arm and said, “You don’t have to.”

“It’s okay.” I was calmer now. The food had helped some. That and the chance to sit and get used to Zach’s presence. “I drove everyone here.”

“We can get them rides home. I mean, definitely come if you want to, but don’t feel like you have to stay.”

“Thanks.” It was cute that he felt I couldn’t handle the situation. He’d mistaken my nerves for innocence.

Once we
stepped out of the restaurant and into the cool evening air, Zach made it clear he planned to stay right at my side.

Bad idea. Albuquerque has less than a million inhabitants. If a paparazzo got a picture of us together, there was a chance they’d know who I was—and my reputation. That was the
last
thing Triple Cross needed—a news story about how Zach hooked up with Kyra the Slut. Even if I was a former slut, my history could still do plenty of damage, especially to the pristine, squeaky clean image of Triple Cross.

But I didn’t know how to shake him without being rude. Dropping back only caused him to slow his steps to match. “Um,” I said, “I don’t want to get my picture in… um… any tabloids or…”

“Oh, right. Say no more.” His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled and gave me space.

Aidan Greer stepped on over to me. This guy was
quiet
. Stealthy, even. I got the impression that he practiced being forgettable, and I wondered what he saw once people began to disregard his presence. His smile was welcoming, though, as I fell into step next to him and we all walked down the street. Amazingly, the way was clear. I suspected the fact that the members of the band were on foot, not in a motorcade or anything elaborate, helped. People tended to miss what looked normal to them.

“So, are you their manager?” I asked Aidan.

“Nope. I’m a director-slash-producer.” Even his voice was soft and unobtrusive.

“For, like, film?” I looked up at him.

“I’m going to make their concert movie.”

“Oh, really? There’s going to be a concert movie?”

“Yeah. Their last manager was against it, but I was able to cut a deal with their new one.”

“That’ll be big. You doing it in 3D and all that?”

“Yep.”

“Printing money,” I said.

He laughed. “It should get good returns, yes.”

“So you’re just here…”

“Letting them get used to me. I want the final product to be as candid as possible. I came out to spend time with them before I get my crew together and stick cameras in their faces.”

I nodded.

He fell silent and once again disappeared into the background. He might have been here to let the band get used to him, but I doubt they even noticed him after five minutes.

Back at
the hotel, Ben cracked open the minibar, which was one of the most flagrant displays of wealth I’ve ever seen. Even Jason ignored the minibar in his hotel rooms. Chloe would use it to refrigerate food she bought in grocery stores to save money. So, okay, I don’t have a lot of experience with flagrant displays of wealth. The most money I’ve ever seen Jason spend was on Chloe’s engagement ring, and I have no idea how much that was. The jeweler had shown it to him on a calculator screen and Jason just handed over his credit card.

Ben poured bourbon into the water glasses provided and handed one each to Brandy and Marissa. “What do you want, Kyra?” he asked.

Before I could tell him that I was the designated driver, Zach caught me by the wrist. “She’s good. Come on.” He pulled me in the direction of the bedroom.

Brandy and Marissa glared at me as if wishing they could bore holes in me with their gazes, but I could barely take that in. Zach Wechsler was touching my skin with his. I wanted to faint.