You're waiting for him. Not that he knows that. Not that you'd ever admit it, even to yourself, but you do it every night. You're really not sure why, either. Every glance, touch, kind word makes it a little harder to go back to your hotel alone. He's always been better than you at this. Probably because he's the one with everything to lose.
He smiles when he sees you, and you don't even care that he caught you watching him again. You wait for him to get to you, separating yourself a little from the people that surround you.
"Hey, you," he said, kissing your cheek as he hugs you. "You're coming out with us, right?"
"I am," you say. You've already told everyone that you weren't, but since he's going, you figure you've got a few more hours in you.
"Ride with me?" He offers you his arm and you take it, shooting the crew and the groupies that someone keeps letting backstage a smug look. You love when you get a chance to show people that he's still yours. You take a seat beside him in the town car, very aware of the fact that he's resting his hand on your knee while he checks his phone.
"Put that damn thing away," you order, and he gives you an embarrassed smile as he tucks it in his pocket.
"Sorry," he says, and you get a little nervous when you realize that all of his attention is on you now. "How are you, Stevie?"
You're not really sure what to tell him. You know it's a slightly loaded question, but you can't formulate a good answer. A million versions of "I miss you" run through your head, but you won't give him that satisfaction yet. Not until you're sure he misses you, too. "Everything is great," you lie, covering his hand with yours and playing with his fingers absently. He doesn't pull away. "How about you?"
"Well, not as great as you, apparently," he says, running his fingers through his hair nervously. You suddenly realize how tired he looks.
"Are you alright?"
"Sure. I think."
"What's going on?"
He shakes his head, indicating that he's not interested in talking. You know better than to push him. "Let's not talk about it."
"Now or like, ever?"
"Now. We can talk later," he relents.
"Okay," you say, more than a little excited that he agreed to talk later.
"You look really pretty tonight," he says, and butterflies surge in your belly.
"Thank you."
The car stops and he gets out, turning back to help you to your feet. You smile graciously and take his arm again, keeping your head down as you let him lead you into the building. Security leads you to the elevator and brings you to the rooftop, where you join your friends, who are already several drinks in.
You plaster a smile on your face as people start to notice that you've arrived, hugging everyone around you. You're surprised Lindsey agreed to this. It's too many people after a show. Even for you. He has to be miserable. You are hyper-aware that he hasn't left your sight since you arrived, and finally he decides to rescue you, grabbing your hand and dragging you out onto the dance floor. The song is slow, and he pulls you into his arms, forcing you to sway with him. "I think I'm a little out of my element," he says, laughing at himself.
"You hate these parties."
"Yeah, I really do."
His hands haven't moved since he put them on you. You stop talking and hold onto him, smiling as you feel his thumb lightly stroke your hip bone. You lean into him and close your eyes, hoping the song never ends."You're a lot better at this than you used to be."
"I can be taught," he says, and you laugh a little, still clinging to him. You're entirely too close at this point, but he doesn't seem to be stopping you. Suddenly, you're aware of people whispering around you, and you wonder if he notices that they're watching you together. You don't care. Does he?
Someone snaps a photo and you feel him tense up. "God, why do people do that?" you say, genuinely angry that someone ruined your moment.
"Who was that?" He whispers harshly in your ear. He hasn't moved, but you know he's looking around, trying to identify the culprit.
"I don't know, Lindsey," you say, thinking it should be obvious that you have no idea.
He pulls away from you and you feel a sense of loss as your bodies separate. You watch him approach a young woman and snatch her phone, scrolling through it. He's clearly not happy with what he finds. He speaks harshly to her for a minute, then returns to you. "I should get home."
"Did you delete it?"
He nods. Your heart breaks a little bit, knowing why he had to do that. "Are you ready to leave?"
You sigh, nodding your assent. He doesn't offer you his arm this time, and you scramble to keep up with him as he makes a break for the elevator. You climb into the car beside him and frown as he looks out the window. The tension is radiating from his body at this point, and you're not sure what to say. "Lindsey, the photo is gone. It's okay."
"Stevie, please," he says, signaling that he's not interested in discussing it. You're at a loss, and you wait, willing the car to move faster. You arrive at your hotel and you both get out, letting security usher you to the elevator. You arrive on the top floor, where you're both staying. "Goodnight." He bends down and plants a quick kiss on your cheek before leaving you in the hall.
"Lindsey," you call, your voice weak. He turns, and you have no idea what you wanted to say. Don't go, you think, willing him to read your mind. "Nothing. Goodnight."
