To My Future Number 1 Fan by L. A. Witt

Author:L. A. Witt [Witt, L. A.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-06-09T16:00:00+00:00

~*~

In the cell phone lot outside the San Diego airport, I tapped my fingers on the center console. Whenever someone walked by, I surreptitiously lowered my gaze, letting the brim of my baseball cap shade my face. That was usually way too conspicuous, all but announcing to everyone that I was trying not to be seen, but right now, anything was better than nothing.

At least it was dark out; Brian’s flight didn’t come in until 9:30, so we wouldn’t be meeting up in broad daylight. Plus no one would really expect us to be meeting here. We’d never get in or out of LAX without someone noticing. Even the smaller airports in the area had the occasional paparazzo lurking outside, not to mention tourists on the lookout for celebrities. San Diego gave us better odds of slipping away unseen.

I checked the clock on the dash again. Two minutes since the last time I’d checked. He’d be on the ground in the next fifteen minutes, and if that plane was two seconds late, I would probably lose my mind. I was more nervous than when I’d gone to see him. When that weekend had been a giant question mark, and I’d had no idea we’d wind up connecting the way we had.

By all rights, I should have been way more chill this time, but the stupid articles—because of course there’d been more than one—had me on edge. Even after we’d talked almost daily, after we’d Skyped and Facetimed and texted and chatted, I was worried. He’d insisted he still wanted to do this, and he’d get used to the media attention. If anyone caught wind of us again, and saw past the statement my publicist had released, he’d be ready. He could handle it.

But what if you can’t?

What if I’m not worth having to tolerate that shit?

I’d somehow convinced myself that I’d feel better once I saw him in person. Once we’d touched again, and everything was still the way it was two weeks ago, I’d be able to breathe.

Now if that goddamned plane would just land already…

I closed my eyes and wiped a hand over my face. The press had mostly backed off. Rachael had released a bland statement to the effect of Mr. Stewart and Mr. Jacobsen have recently become friends, but rumors of them being romantically involved are false. She’d written off the incriminating photo with the God’s honest truth—that Brian hadn’t been kissing me at all, and it was just a lucky camera angle. Whether or not people had actually bought it was anyone’s guess, but things had been quiet. I’d done a handful of phone interviews this past week about my last movie, and only two had mentioned the rumors about Brian. When I’d laughed them off as people seeing what they wanted to see and reminded them that men—even gay men—could just be friends, they’d let it drop.

Still, we couldn’t be too careful.

My phone chirped with a text, and I snatched it off the dash.

Wheels down.

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