How to (Not) Date a Popstar |✓|

6.1 The Human Cliché

I bought a black baseball cap and a matching zip-up hoodie, and in the ladies' room at the airport I changed into my new clothes—pulling the hoodie over the hat to conceal as many curls as I could. If the paparazzi captured my picture tonight, the world would know me only as Tyler's mystery girl. Tyler bought the tickets—two roundtrips to NYC, first class, and there was no going back.

On board, we sat across from each other, in seats designed like cozy cubicles, a fold-away table planted between us. Tyler sweet-talked a flight attendant, and moments later he brought us something to celebrate our freedom. I gazed from a window bigger than I expected, watching the dusty pink skies as we drank champagne the same color. We toasted. Tyler drained his glass, set it on the table, and stood from his seat.

"I'm going to the bathroom. The door will be unlocked." He leaned close, his lower lip between his teeth, a promise in his eyes as dark and sweet as chocolate. "You can stay, and watch the pretty sunset, or you can follow me."

I watched Tyler disappear down the aisle. Then I imagined what it would feel like to really see him walk away—and the decision was made for me. When I opened the door, he turned out the light and I gave my inhibitions to the darkness, where time and space were occupied only by hands and lips...

My heart was still beating just as fast when the flight touched down. Tyler took my hand and led me through the tunnel. We had no bags, and even though it was probably against the rules, we took off running as soon as we exited. Tyler had warned me on the plane—if we stayed in one place for even two seconds, someone would recognize him, and our cover would be blown before we even left LaGuardia.

But we succeeded, making our way from the airport, breathless, but alive, losing ourselves at once to the bright lights of the Big Apple.

***

I was dizzy. And homesick. I hadn't realized how much I missed the city until I was immersed in the steady beat of traffic, saw the navy horizon interrupted by soaring skyscrapers, and smelled the tart, familiar aroma of street foods and exhaust.

Welcome to New York City.

We bought food from a street vendor, and Tyler, who was immediately recognized, wound up singing for our hot dogs. He serenaded the vendor with a popular song from his last album, drawing the attention of a growing crowd. When the song was over, he signed a few autographs on a few napkins and finally, we hailed a cab to Central Park.

Tyler tipped the driver to turn up the music and keep his eyes on the road. He slid close, until only the seatbelt held him back.

"I've been all over the world, Ali—you're still the prettiest fucking thing I've seen." Tyler lowered my hood and removed my hat. My breath caught when he pressed his palm to my cheek, the other hand sifting through my curls. "There are a million reasons why I'm falling in love with you. My favorite, is this." He took my hand and placed it on his chest, where his heart beat in triple time beneath my fingers. The night life washed over his face, but in between the lights and shadows, Tyler's eyes were greener than ever.

"Tyler... wow."

"Wow." His whisper was followed by a kiss that didn't end until we reached our destination.

By the time we made it to the park, the sun was nothing but a thin slice of orange on the horizon. I stepped eagerly from the cab, waiting as Tyler paid the driver, too electrified to stay in one place. I wandered away, towards the park entrance, closer to the sky-high trees waving just beyond the gate. I didn't notice the slight draft, only that the air was pure, sweeter smelling than the forests back home.

Tyler re-appeared, threading his fingers through mine as we headed towards the gate. He walked backwards, the brightness of his polar-white smile rivaling the evening stars.