Meet Me Backstage

30. Steal Me

JACKS

"Morning!" I say, opening the door for Dré and inviting him in.

"Morning," he says, handing me a coffee and setting down some paperwork on the counter. "Why you grinning like you woke up in bed with Harry and Meghan?"

I laugh and shake my head, sitting at the counter beside him.

"Skye broke up with her boyfriend," I say.

His brows raise and his mouth falls open.

"You're shitting me," he says. "How? What happened?"

"Well I swung by her house to drop off the magazine and sh-"

"Hold up." He holds out his palm and narrows his eyes. "What happened to not using the magazine as an excuse to see Skye right away? How long did you wait?"

I look to the side.

"Point is when she came home she said she had just broken up with him."

"When she came home? Man, did you show up at her place before she even made it home? I'm second-hand embarrassed for you right now."

"I gave it time, okay? She just happened to be out because she was busy breaking up with him."

"Well, desperate moves aside, I'm happy for you," he says.

"Anyway, she came over for dinner last night. I told her that I like her and she said she likes me."

I can't fight the grin tugging at my lips as I say it.

"I expected you to really lay on the moves, but I didn't realize you two were still in middle school," he teases.

"Hey, I'm taking it slow. She just broke up with her fiancé and we were both drunk."

"I'm just teasing. Have you talked to her today?"

"Not since she left."

"She stayed the night?" he asks, waggling his eyebrows.

"Not like that. She was too drunk to drive home so I offered her the guest room. I told you, I didn't want to rush things."

"Fair enough. Hopefully when you get there, she won't be expecting the 10-foot dick," he teases.

"What?" I ask with a laugh.

"I'm joking, man. About the Jackson Ford fanfiction? Didn't you tell me they all made you out to have a King-Kong dong?"

"Oh, yeah. I forgot about that." I chuckle and nod. "She wouldn't think any of that was real, right? I mean like... she knows that's fiction."

"Wow," he says with a laugh. "I just watched all the color drain from your face. You really worried she's expecting you to live up to fanfiction? Relax. I've gotten a few glimpses of what you're packing; she'll be fine."

He's right, by most standards I'm doing great in that department—but I've never had to compete with my fictional self and his massive pant python either.

At least... I don't think I have.

"So what's the plan from here?" he asks. "Sweep her off her feet? Send her a dozen-dozen roses? Helicopter tour?"

"Is that how you usually win over your dates?"

"It's what I'd do if I were rich and famous. I mean, why be a teen idol if you can't even use it to bag your girl?"

"If I took her out to dinner the paparazzi would swarm us. She'd immediately be a target for them. I don't even want her on their radar."

"Then what are you gonna do?"