Spotlight on Nobody

- 39 -

~ song: Kentucky - Demo by Hippo Campus ~

The weekend with Leo flew by. Dinner went smoothly on Friday night – with minimal inquisition by my family – and today I kept Leo all to myself, taking him on a hike in a nearby park. We walked lazily among the large pines and oaks which dotted the hill side, sat at the edge of a creek and let the cool water flow over our bare feet, talking about anything and everything under the sun. At one point, the forest opened up into a clearing of tall grass and wildflowers, the hill sloping away towards the creek in its valley. It was late afternoon, the sun at a slant in the sky, casting the landscape in a golden glow. It was something out of a movie, a magical cinematic moment which took my breath away. My awe of nature's ethereal beauty was shattered as Leo grabbed me around my waist and flung us both down in the golden wheat together. I had laughed as we tossed around in the field, flattening out a patch of the tall grass, rolling to a halt with him gently suspended above me. He kissed me then, sweetly and slowly, before rolling over next to me. I stared at him and my breath was stolen away from me for a second time; the golden light reflected off the wheat and poppies around us, casting his face in a warm glow, so beautiful it made my heart ache. And somehow, in some crazy twist of fate I surely do not deserve, he had stared back at me with similar awe in his eyes.

Before he could move, I snaked my hand into my back pocket and retrieved my phone. Quickly I snapped a picture of him, bathed in golden hour light surrounded by an ethereal scene. He smiled instinctively, the result of being photographed constantly I suppose, transforming his face into something even more beautiful - if that was even possible. I took another picture, and then another, the final photo more of his hand reaching out to take my phone away from me than his face.

With my phone in his hand, Leo had looped his other arm underneath me and pulled me in flush against his body. He kissed me sweetly on the forehead while snapping a selfie of the two of us.

"We need more pictures together," he whispered, "so I can remind myself this wasn't a dream later."

Now it's Saturday night and the both of us are freshly showered, swaying peacefully on the porch swing out front in the candle-lit darkness. Lights attract the moths and mosquitos, so instead my mom has dotted the porch with citronella candles. The sweet tang of citrus wafts towards me on the breeze as the candles flicker but stay alight.

"Do you want me to hire a publicist for you?" Leo asks abruptly, confusing me for a moment. Then I realize he was likely watching me scroll through my camera roll, clearly debating which pictures from today I want to post. Would posting the selfie of him kissing me forehead be too sappy? Would the picture of him lying in the field seem like I'm suddenly running a Leo fan account?

"It's hardly necessary – I'm not a celebrity," I say without thinking.

"How many followers do you have?" He asks with a raised eyebrow. Is he trying to turn this into a competition? Because clearly, he has me beat on the follower front – by a long shot.

"Uh," I stall, opening Instagram and checking the most recent count. "337k," I answer, my eyes widening at the number.

"Still not famous?" Leo asks mockingly, and I see that he wasn't trying to compare followers, but rather point out that quite a large amount of people are watching my every social media move.

"Famous by association," I shrug. Leo shakes his head, his eyes regarding me sadly. It reminds me of the way he looked at me in the music room yesterday when he told me that my talent does not lessen simply because he is also talented.

"Nell, I'll admit that your introduction into the spotlight was shaky," Leo begins. "But the world finally sees what I do: that you're not nobody – you're Nell Greene, the most beautiful," he leans his face down and kisses my shoulder. "The most intelligent," he lips move up to my neck. "The most kind," he kisses under my ear. "The most amazing," his lips graze my jaw. "Woman the world has ever known," he finishes, speaking softly against my lips.

"You flatter me," I say breathlessly.

He makes a negating sound with his throat. "Nope," he replies. "I'm just telling the truth." He leans back against the swing and I resume my previous position, my head resting on his shoulder as I glance at the picture of him on my phone.

"Can I post this?" I ask him, tilting up my screen so he can see the still life of him, smiling impishly at the camera, his green eyes set ablaze in the sunlight.

"Hmmm," he says pensively. "The warm color scheme is not really what my marketing team had in mind with my branding for this particular album so..." He laughs when I turn to him, my mouth agape. "I'm kidding Nell," he chuckles. "Of course you can post that, you are my girlfriend after all."

Is it cheesy that I get butterflies when he refers to me as his girlfriend?

Without another thought I upload the picture of him, along with the one of us lying together. He's my boyfriend after all – I can post what I damn well please!

Before I can even exit the app – in the past few months I've learned to do that, since the sudden volume of likes seems to short circuit my phone – I notice Leo comment "first like." I stare up at him looking at his phone and give him a silly grin. In some ways, we are just like every other stupid-in-love couple – posting pictures together, commenting cutely, meeting the family, going on hikes, visiting my childhood home.

"Logan is picking us up to fly to LA tomorrow at 2 P.M.," he reminds me while returning my smile.

And in some ways, we will never be like a normal couple. The funny part is the travel, the concerts, the galas – the fancy stuff – that's not what excites me about our relationship. For being so horribly average, I've acclimatized to this jet-setting lifestyle surprisingly quickly. With Leo at my side, everything else falls away, seems mundane in comparison to the way he makes me feel.

Blowing out the candles on our way, Leo and I trudge upstairs so that I can pack before we go to sleep. I've agreed to spend the first week of my summer vacation in California with Leo as he begins the West Coast leg of his RUBY tour. As I open my empty suitcase to begin packing, I realize I have no idea what to bring. What does one wear in California? More specifically, what does the girlfriend of America's most-beloved-superstar wear as he tours? I open my mouth to ask Leo but quickly shut it for two reasons. One, he's not a girl and can hardly understand the amount of thought we go through while packing. Second, I'm pretty sure it's been years since he's packed a bag for himself – he has people to do that for him.

I grab my phone and send a text to Alice instead.

I need help... what should I pack to go to Cali??

Uhhhh... nothing, duh! Nude beaches, remember?

Yeah right, just what I need: the paparazzi 

with nude photos of me

It would be a blessing to the world ;)

Hold on, I have packing lists for all my fav places, I'm sure I have an LA one somewhere....

As I wait for Alice's response, another text comes through, a message from Grace to the group chat with her, Ella, and myself.

Can I finally cut a bitch?

The language is very uncustomary for her. Moments later I see the reason behind the harsh words. A screenshot pops up of a picture posted mere seconds ago on Instagram. The caption reads "Throwback with my favorite boy."

The picture? Leo on the red carpet, dressed in a dapper suit, kissing the cheek of none other than Ingrid Orchid.