How to (Not) Date a Popstar |✓|

2.1 What You See And What You Don't

The next day, I rose at dawn for my usual Sunday jog down the misty, winding streets of Harbor Village. My breath puffed in thin, transparent clouds as I sprinted down the sidewalk. It was February; the winter snows had long melted but the mornings were still chilly. But the wind was finally losing her cold edge, and the maple and oak trees were budding again. As my feet slapped the pavement, I kept my eyes trained on the green-gray hills in the distance, using them as a focus point while I concentrated on my breathing. Thoughts of homework, graduation, prom, the wedding—were all interrupted by him.

I reached a stop sign and slowed, jogging in place as I waited for a car to pass. Tired of thinking, I turned up the volume in my headphones, letting Rina Sawayama take it away. It was obvious that too much time had passed—Tyler and I weren't real friends anymore. Speculating about him only made the truth that much harder to accept. If I wanted to move on, I had to get him out of my head...

I jogged through the neighborhood, until sunrise erupted in the east. The sun began its grand ascension, spreading its golden rays through the slate-colored sky. The sunlight filtering through the cloud cover was weak, providing beauty, but not much warmth. Lowering the hood of my sweater, I stopped by an empty meadow to stretch. Purple wildflowers covered the field during warm months. My first kiss was in this field... slow and minty...

Hands stretched over my head, I groaned. So much for cooling down.

Returning to the sidewalk, I headed toward home, absorbed by the pop metal flooding my earbuds. I didn't notice the black vehicle with tinted windows until it pulled up alongside me. My heart beat in triple time even after I realized it wasn't the same car from last night. This was an obnoxious Rolls Royce stretch gleaming with a fresh wax. The window in the backseat rolled down; Tyler's smile gleamed under a pair of Ray Ban shades.

"Hello, Cabbage! It is I, your King!" he said, grinning wide as he spoke my old nickname in flamboyant Russian tones. "I have bone to pick with you!"

"That's not funny, okay, Tyler?" The last thing I needed was a reminder of Aleksandr and Bortnik. As I continued walking, the Rolls' tires crunched slow and steady.

"Can we talk?" His regular voice was smoky and charming. The same voice that entertained crowds around the globe was now seducing me. "Just you and me? You wouldn't have come to the hotel or dropped by the party if you didn't have something to say."

I came to a stop and so did the Rolls. Tyler stared back, dark brows raised, lower lip in a coaxing pout.

"You're cabbage. I'm king."

"Your majesty." Tyler bowed. "Get in."

A stranger was asleep in the Rolls. He was slumped in his seat, tie undone, dress shirt untucked, with a driver's cap covering his face. He was also snoring, loudly.

"Who is that guy?" I whispered, stepping carefully over his feet and taking the seat across from Tyler.

"That's my old driver. He was awesome. We had some shots last night so he had to call a replacement.

"That's you. Always finding new ways to break the law. How are you?"

Tyler kept smiling, but who knew what emotions were hidden behind those sunglasses. He reeked of Swisher Sheets and alcohol. It was barely nine in the morning and he was still in last night's clothes—blue jeans and a grey sweater with the hood pulled up. There was a chain around his neck, silver rings on his fingers. The boy notorious for food stains and Kool-Aid mustaches had left the Village and became a fashion statement.

"I'm always good when I'm with you."

Behind those sunglasses, Tyler was exactly who he used to be.