Not If I Date You First

Chapter 2

LIAM

I fidget with one of the holes in the white t-shirt I always wear when I'm out in public and glance back at the people standing in line. They either haven't noticed us yet, or they're native New Yorkers who couldn't care less about running into a couple of celebrities at a juice bar. Thank God. The last thing I need is for someone to whip out a cell phone and post pictures of us on social media.

I train my gaze on my scuffed Italian leather shoes, trying to avoid making eye contact. If the show's producers find out I'm not actually sick and ditched today's press event to hang with my girlfriend, I'm going to be in some serious shit. Not that Mia seems at all concerned about that.

Mia is one of those people who just burns brighter than everyone around them. She's vibrant, radiating confidence with every toss of her hair, every sway of her hips. When we first met, I felt like a moth drawn to a flame. Unfortunately, everyone else seems to feel the same way. Being with her means having eyes on us all the time.

"Do you have to do that right now?" I mutter as she shakes out her long, fiery mane and snaps a selfie in the middle of the line. With her bright-red lipstick, designer threads, and sky-high heels, she might as well be holding a sign saying, 'Look at me! I'm famous!'

"Do what?" Mia doesn't bother to glance up from her phone. God, is she truly this oblivious, or is she just that self-centered? A headache starts to beat at my temples, whether from irritation or being in this little shop of horrors, I'm not sure.

The walls are painted a blinding shade of lime green, and the whole place smells like over-ripe fruit and lawn clippings. I chance a look over at Briggs, my bodyguard, standing in the corner. His eyes continuously scan the other customers. Usually, his presence is enough to ease some of the panic that swallows me whenever I step outside. But not today.

I shouldn't be here. But Mia had an absolute meltdown when I said I didn't want to stop. Her driver kept shooting me these judgmental looks in the rearview. I got nervous that he'd sell some bullshit story to the press about what a dick of a boyfriend I am if I didn't get her the green juice she had to have.

Mia would say I was being paranoid if she knew the reason I'd finally caved. Maybe I was. But it wouldn't be the first time someone sold me out to the media.

"I told you I need to stay under the radar today." My voice is low, so no one can overhear me.

"No one's stopping you." Mia rolls her eyes like I'm the one being annoying. She's still zeroed in on her phone, and I cringe as she barks out a laugh, thumbs flying over the screen. I scrub a hand down my face. Mia doesn't get it. She loves being in the limelight even more than I hate it. Being with her in public is irritating at the best of times. Today it's a risk I shouldn't have taken. Making people notice her is as natural as breathing for Mia. It's part of her DNA.

That's probably why Julian, our publicist, set us up to begin with. I think he hoped her obsession with having the paparazzi photograph her every move would rub off on me. Too bad for him. I'd rather have my fingernails ripped off than let those blood-suckers take their shots. I was only too eager to ditch the press conference when Mia suggested we spend the morning at her apartment instead.

My cell buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to see Julian's name flashing on the screen. I jab the ignore button. Julian knows me better than to believe I have the flu today. He's probably calling to chew my ass out. Sure enough, the screen lights up with a voicemail. I scan enough of the transcription to pick out a few of his favorite four-letter words before hitting delete. I'll deal with him later.

"Babe, look up," Mia says. Without thinking, I do. She has her phone ready and snaps a picture. "Cute." She examines it, then swipes over to her FaceTune app like she's...like she's prepping to post the photo.