Realizing what he’s about to do, I scramble to pull my guitar from my case.
People have been noticing us, more accurately noticing Kale, and have stalled on their way to unknown places, watching.
Kale points the camera in his direction, the poster of himself behind him. “I’m Kale McCain, and today I have someone amazing to share with you. You already recognize her name, even though you’ve never met her before. So today I’d like to introduce you to the incredible Whitney Ford.”
My heart is hammering out of my chest like a jackhammer and a sweat has broken out over my entire body. And then, just like that, no matter how unprepared I am for this, Kale turns the phone in my direction.
“Knock ‘em dead, Whitney!” he bellows.
My fingers shake, but still, they don’t fail me when they start plucking at the strings.
“Just a Girl Named Whitney” is a song I wrote last year. It’s about being young, and weird, and just being yourself. And it’s perfectly fitting for a day like today.
Finally, I look up at Kale as I sing. He’s grinning like a fool. And seeing how excited and confident he is, it makes confidence grow in my own voice by the second.
More and more people gather around us as I sing. They take out their phones. Some of them are snapping videos or pictures of Kale. But most of them are fixed on me. And they’re all smiling and seem to be enjoying my song.
I smile and hold Kale’s eyes as I sing the last notes of the song. He winks at me as the last cord fades away.
The crowd breaks out into clapping and hoots and hollers when I finish. Kale flips his phone back to him. “That was Whitney Ford you just heard. Don’t ever forget her name, cause she’s going to be the next world-rocking artist. Don’t forget to share her with everyone you know!”
And as Kale finishes up the video, everyone is on their phones, blasting me out into the world.
Kale asks for my Twitter handle and there the video goes, uploading into the world.
“That was…” I struggle for words. My hands shake and my stomach is either on the verge of throwing up or being ravenously hungry. Maybe both.
“You did amazing!” Kale says as he holds his hands out wide, as if to say, here’s Whitney! To my surprise he steps forward and wraps his arms around me in an engulfing hug.
He smells so amazing. I am so turned on that it’s embarrassing.
Then my growling stomach, which I am sure everyone can hear, kills it.
“The woman needs food!” Kale bellows as he takes my hand. With his other, he grabs my guitar case, and we set out down the road. The crowd we leave behind claps and cheers. I look back over my shoulder at them, and a laugh bubbles out of me as I wave at them.
I should have been watching where I was going. Cause I trip over nothing.
Kale just chuckles and shakes his head as he keeps me from landing on my face.
We grab burgers, fries, and shakes, but there are some shady people in the restaurant this time of night, so we get it to go. We climb back into Kale’s Rover, and we head back to my apartment.
My phone keeps dinging every two seconds, replies to Kale’s tweet of me singing. It’s all positive feedback. A few creepers making inappropriate comments. But mostly a whole lot of love. For both me and Kale.
By the time we pull up to the curb at my place, I have to turn my phone off, it’s going so nuts.
“Welcome to stardom,” Kale says as he holds my door open for me, a bag of food in his other hand.
“This is crazy,” I say as I carefully balance the shakes as I climb out. As I slip off the seat, my dress pulls up, flashing a brief glimpse of my underwear. Kale doesn’t miss it, and the brief look on his face is approving. My face flushes. “How do you deal with the attention all the time?” I move on past the flashing.
“You get used to it after a while,” he says with a shrug as he follows me up the stairs. I unlock the door and let us in. “It all just kind of turns into background noise after so long.”
“I don’t know,” I say as I set the shakes down on the kitchen counter. “I’ve always flown so under the radar, I don’t know if I could ever get used to the life you live.”
“Better get used to it fast,” he says as he sets the bag down. As he does, his hip brushes my back end, setting off a firework—one of the sparkler ones—in my lower belly. “I have a feeling something’s about to happen for you. Fast.”
I turn, my back resting against the counter. Kale is standing close, close enough I can smell the heady scent of him. His dark eyes look down at me, intense, and adventurous, and so…him.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice lower than normal. “For everything tonight. It really means a lot.”
There’s a look of indecision on his face. Could Kale McCain want to kiss me right now? Cause that hunger in his eyes–I don’t think I’m imagining it.
And slowly, he leans forward. My eyes start to slide closed. An electric storm sparks in my blood.
And then he reaches forward, and grabs two fries from the bag. One he stuffs in his own mouth, one he puts in mine.
“You’re very welcome,” he says as he grins.
CHAPTER FOUR
The smell of something burning pulls me from sleep.
My first thought is to completely panic that the house is burning down. I fling myself out of what I thought was my bed, only I’m on the couch, which is not as big as my bed, and I flip onto the floor, tangling myself in a blanket.
“Morning,” someone says, calm as anything.
I throw the blanket off of my head, look around, slightly terrified that there is someone in my house.
And then all my lady bits go crazy at the same time my blood freezes in my chest.
Cause there, in my kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, is Kale.
“Sorry for the smoke,” he says without turning around to look at me. He stands at the stove. The fan is on above it, but it isn’t doing much to alleviate the smoke rising from the stove. “I thought I knew how to make pancakes, but apparently it’s a lot harder than it looks.” He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, making his hips do amazing things. My eyes go to the Your Fantasy label on the elastic of his underwear.
There was never more accurate branding.
I climb to my feet, the events of the previous night coming back to me.
We came back here. We ate dinner. I had thought Kale was going to kiss me. But he didn’t. And we spent a solid hour, at least, just talking. And that’s the last thing I remember. I must have fallen asleep on the couch at some point. And either Kale was being awfully presumptuous and just decided to crash at my place without permission, or he fell asleep, too.
Either way, I really don’t mind.
“Here, let me get rid of those,” I say as I cross into the kitchen. I grab the plate of ruined pancakes that look like gobs of runny, yet somehow black ick, and cross to the front door.
Just as I start to twist the handle to take them out to the road trash, Kale yells, “No, don’t open the door!”
But it’s too late, because I pull it open.
And am blinded by flashing lights.
There has to be fifteen photographers camped out on my front steps. There’s at least one news van as well. And a dozen people snap pictures of me with their camera phones.
And I can just stand there in shock. In my itty bitty shorts I changed into last night, and an oversized T-shirt that says NOPE, NOT TODAY.
Then Kale is behind me, slamming the door closed.
There’s no doubt that at least some of them caught him in just his underwear.
Holy crap.
Kale double checks the blinds that they are closed tight and locks the door. He peaks between two of the slats, looking out at the crazed crowd outside.
“I should have warned you first thing,” he says, his breathing fast and hard. “Should have known it would have only taken hours for the vultures to circle.”
“Are they all here
cause of the video last night?” I breathe. I’m still staring at my front door and suddenly I’m terrified. You see what being a celebrity is like on the TV, you hear about the paparazzi and the loss of privacy. But experiencing it in real life? Holy crap! It’s scary.
“No question about it,” Kale says, peeking through the blinds one last time. He then looks back at me, and that signature smile of his is back on his beautiful face. “Welcome to the next big thing.”
He stands there, hands on his hips, perfectly sculpted abs and pecks right there just two feet away, grinning at me like I’m the most amazing thing in the world.
And everything is all just too much.
“Hey,” Kale says, as if seeing all the terror on my face. He crosses to me and wraps his nearly naked body around me in a hug. “I know it’s pretty freaky at first, but it’s going to be okay. These first few days are going to be crazy and a bit overwhelming, but things will get put into place to manage it all.”
“How are you so sure?” I ask, trying to fight back the sting in the back of my eyes. I press my cheek to his bare chest. “How are you so sure that this is the launch of anything?”
“Because I’ve known you for, what? Four days? And I’m already obsessed with you,” he says quietly, but there’s no shame or hesitance in his admission. “Because you have what it’s going to take. All it took was one tiny shove, and look at what’s already happening.”
Gathering my bravery, I look up at Kale’s face, and I see how genuinely he believes this. I’ve been following Kale’s career and, to be honest, personal life for a while now, and I never thought of him as a real genuine person. Not someone who had many deep emotions or that cared about anyone other than himself.
But what he’s saying, it’s real.
“Just take a deep breath,” he says without letting me go.
His request seems ridiculous considering I’m in the arms of a nearly naked, perfect Adonis, but I do it anyway. And it does calm me.
“I’m going to call Julian and see if he knows any security guards from their work that could come manage the situation outside temporarily,” Kale says as he regretfully lets me go. “I’d call Lake, but considering he’s probably half way to Aruba right now, he won’t be much help.”
“Why…” my voice cracks and I clear my throat. “Why would you call Lake?”
Kale smiles as he looks up at me from his phone. “He’s a Marine Sergeant. And really knows how to handle himself.”
“I really appreciate it, Kale,” I say, running a hand through my hair. “But I really need to get to work. And I’m sure it’s all going to blow over in a few hours. It was just one video.”
“Whitney,” he says, giving me a serious look. But he pauses with the phone in his hand.
“No…” I interrupt him. “Just…I need to go to work. Everything will be fine. I’ll sneak out the back.”
And before he can say anything, I slip into my bedroom and close the door.
I just need…I just need some normal. I need half a second to think about all this. About all those people outside. About Kale. About everything.
So I change. Slowly.
When I walk back out into the living room, Kale has put his clothes back on.
That is regretful.
“My agent just called,” Kale says. There’s uncertainty in his eyes. He’s not sure what to expect from me right now. I suddenly feel like a grenade. Like he thinks I’ll go off at any moment. Maybe I will. “He wants me to wait here for a while. He’s going to send someone to come pick us up.”
“He doesn’t need to worry about me,” I say, gathering up my stuff for work. My briefcase with all my research papers that I took home, thinking I was going to work on it this weekend. And then everything—Kale—happened. “It’s fine. I’m just going to go into work.”
“Whitney,” Kale starts again. There’s a sigh in his voice.
“No, Kale,” I say, feeling this ball of panic trying to claw its way up my throat. “I need to do this. I just…I’m going to work.”
I hold his eyes for a long time. There’s a war going on behind his own. He wants to argue with me. But I have the feeling that Kale knows how to recognize someone at the brink of falling over the edge. He knows when to not push.
“’K, I’ll walk you out to your car.”
I’m grateful. But I can’t say much of anything right now.
We head out the back door, which is really down the fire escape. Thankfully my truck is parked around the corner on the curb, out of view of all the insanity.
“I’ll…” I pause, my hand on the handle of the truck. “I’ll call you at lunch, okay?”
“’K,” Kale says. There’s a truckload of concern in his eyes. But he’s going to give me this. “Be careful.”
“I will.”
And I get in my truck. Kale watches me as I go.
When he’s out of view, when my apartment, and the reporters are out of view of my mirror, I take a deep breath.
Tell myself to chill out.
This will all blow over in a few hours. Something else exciting will happen, someone else will do something amazing, and all the attention will shift to them. And I can go back to being plain, nerdy, weird Whitney who goes to work and lives a normal life.
Yep.
I pull into my usual parking spot at EM, right next to Ming’s van. Gather my things, and climb out.
But when I see the front doors, I slow. Cause there’s two people just to the sides of them that I don’t recognize. And I know everyone that works here.
“Whitney Ford!” the woman in the black pencil skirt says excitedly. “I wondered if I could ask you a few questions this morning?”
“The Seattle Journal would love to run a full story on you and that incredible video from last night,” another man in a suit says with a blinding smile.
“Uh…” I stumble for words. “I uh…maybe later. Right now, I’m late for work.”
They start firing off questions, even as I scoot around them carefully, not saying a single word. Carl, the security guy, has to keep them at bay to prevent them from coming inside.
“Now look what you’ve gone and done,” Lolita, the woman at the front desk says as she eyes me.
“Holy crap,” I huff as I walk past her and toward my department.
I walk down the hall. And there’s Ming, standing in the doorway of our room.
“I’ve been trying to call you all morning,” she hisses at me, letting me squeeze past her. “There’s your face all over the news, all over online. Everywhere, Whitney! And you don’t say anything to me. And you so did do the dirty-dirty with Kale McCain!”
“What are you talking about?” I say as I set my things down on my desk. “I did not!”
“There certainly was a lack of clothes in the pictures!” she accuses. She pulls out her phone, and two seconds later, flips it around for me to see.
There’s a picture of me, looking stunned, and in super short shorts. And Kale behind me. In all his mostly naked glory, looking ticked as he tries to slam the door closed.
“We didn’t,” I breathe. I take the phone from her to get a better look. “I swear. Holy crap…this is insane!”
“You’re everywhere, Whitney!” Ming says as she takes her phone back. “Facebook, Twitter, YouTube! That video of you singing. Everyone’s talking about you and Kale. There’s already whole Tumblr accounts devoted to you and him, speculating if you’re going to be the next big power couple.”
“Oh my gosh,” I groan as I sink into my chair.
“Whitney?”
The unsure voice pulls my eyes up to the doorway.
There stand my parents.
“Mom, Dad,” I say in disbelief as I stand. I don’t know why I’m standing, but I do.
“What is going on?” Mom says, her brows furrowed deeply. “Why is the news calling me, asking us all these questions about your musical upbringing and childhood? Why are there news vans racing to your work right now? Wh
at’s happening?”
“Mom, I can explain,” I say. Even though I really can’t.
“There were reporters at our house, Sweetie,” Dad says in that timid voice of his. “Even Carson said he’s getting calls.”
I can only imagine how that went. Calls to my completely socially impaired brother who has no idea what’s going on.
“There was this video posted last night,” I start. “Of me singing.”
“Who was that boy?” Mom demands, sounding both concerned and annoyed. “He looks familiar. Do you have a boyfriend? Because you know how distracting boys can be at your age, and you have your work, and school in a few weeks.”
“Mom!” I stop her right there, fisting a hand in my already disheveled hair. “Kale isn’t my boyfriend. He’s just…” But I don’t have an answer to that.
“The hottest male to ever be born?” Ming offers.
Super unhelpful.
And suddenly, there’s my boss behind the growing crowd. Lance.
“What is going on, Miss Ford?” he asks. I can’t tell if his voice is annoyed, or just surprised, or what. “There’s news people swarming the doors, the phone is ringing off the hook, and everyone is demanding to talk to you. Care to explain?”
I sink back into my chair, feeling tired and completely overwhelmed.
My phone starts ringing, and I look down to see Kale’s name.
So, ignoring everything else, I answer it.
“I’m sorry, Whit,” he starts before I can even say hello. “But this isn’t going to blow over, and I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to stay at work.”
“I think you’re right,” I say. There’s emotion biting at the back of my eyes. I’m grateful Kale allowed me my own chance to see this crazy lifestyle—even if it was just beginning. I wouldn’t have believed it otherwise. I still don’t. But this is a rude awakening.
“I’ve got a security guy to help us out, and we’re on our way over right now to pick you up. Calvin said it’s probably best if we just lay low until we can figure everything out. Okay?”
And there’s so much support, so much caring in his voice, that it makes my eyes well. “Okay.” My voice cracks just slightly.