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“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He stands to his full height, leg forgotten. “My girlfriend thought you looked familiar…” he trails off when the woman standing next to him, presumably the girlfriend, slaps a hand against his bare chest and shoots me an apologetic look. “She was too scared to ask if you were who she thought you were.” Through clenched teeth, the woman mutters a low, “Shut up,” to her boyfriend.
My spine stiffens, and I raise my chin, noticing Naomi and Carter straighten up as well out of the corner of my eye. “And who do you think I am?” I ask, unable to hide the bite from my tone.
“Charlotte, right?” he says to me and turns to his girlfriend for confirmation.
“Scarlett,” she reprimands, before turning to me. “Are you Scarlett Lane?” she asks much lighter when speaking to me.
“Yes,” I answer apprehensively.
At my response, the woman’s eyes light up and she scoots closer to me, causing me to shift back on my chair. If she notices, she doesn’t comment or take a step back at the close proximity.
“I thought so! I’m a huge Whisper Me Nothings fan and I heard they were staying at this hotel. And when I spotted you over here, I knew that must be true! Are they around?”
I keep my mouth shut, obviously not about to tell this woman that yes, they are in fact staying here.
“We figured we’d come over to the hotel today and hang around to see if we could spot any of them before the show tonight. I can’t tell you how long I’ve waited to see them. Haven’t I been talking about this forever, babe?” She slaps her boyfriend’s chest and he nods unenthusiastically.
“She has.”
“Can I get a picture? I’ve been listening to some of your music so I won't stand there like an idiot tonight, not knowing anything before their performance.”
Before I can even respond, she’s squatting down next to me and smiling up at her boyfriend as he whips out his phone and snaps a picture. I don’t even have time to look down to make sure my bikini is covering both nipples.
“Thank you so much! So great to meet you!” She pops up and gives me a quick wave that I don’t return before grabbing her boyfriend's arm and dragging him away.
Unease settles in my stomach in a cold, rutting pit.
I’ve seen Boone get recognized before when I’m out with him and saw Walker have it happen just yesterday. But that’s the first time it’s happened to me alone, and something about having the attention turned to me, it’s completely different.
I feel like an object, used and cheap. Once I confirmed who I was, it’s like she didn’t care about actually talking to me at all, instead just getting a picture so she can send it around to her friends. I mean I barely even participated in the interaction and the woman didn’t seem to care.
“That was fucking weird,” Carter says and I can’t help the laugh that bursts out of me.
“Took the words out of my mouth,” I mutter.
As hard as I try to lean back and enjoy the sun like I was only moments before, my nerves are on high alert, eyes scanning the pool to see if anyone else is watching me. I feel eyes on me, imaginary or real, I’m not sure.
Is this how Walker feels 24/7? Is this what it’s going to be like now that I’ve put my face to my songs, stepping into a more prominent role? Before, my loss of anonymity seemed like a far-off concept, something that was happening online but hadn’t yet bled over into my everyday life. But now, I’m staring down the barrel of the gun.
I need to get out of here. As I stand quickly, stars briefly dance in the corners of my vision, reminding me that I need to hydrate more in this heat. Scooping up my towels and shouldering my bag, I lift my head to tell Naomi and Carter I’m gonna go, but I see them both doing the same thing, gathering up their items and clearing our spot.
My heart skips a beat at that, not even having to tell them I’m about to freak out and need to go. They just sensed it and decided to follow me.
The three of us make a quick exit out of the pool area, avoiding getting splashed by a lively water volleyball going on with a group of rowdy old men.
We collectively breathe a sigh of relief as we step back into the hotel and are hit with cool air.
“Holy hell, that feels good,” Carter moans.
“Remind me never to move to the south. I can’t take this heat,” Naomi says.
I stay quiet as we wait for the elevator to arrive, shifting side to side, causing my slides to squeak on the shiny tiled floors.
Still sensing my unease, Naomi offers, “How about we ditch our lunch date and instead I’ll run to the store to pick up some items and I’ll teach you both how to make nikuman? I have my steamer on our bus,” Naomi offers with a gentle hand on my shoulder.
At Carter’s confused look, Naomi clarifies, “Pork buns. A recipe from back home.”
“Sounds good to me,” Carter replies. “I’m already starving.”
