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“I’d love one.”
We stand, then slowly follow the crowd in the direction of the lobby. I can feel his hand on my lower back and it’s all I can do not to press myself against his fingertips. When I look back, I see he’s got his phone out and his face is screwed up as he stares at the screen. “Shit,” he mutters.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m really sorry, but we need to get out of here,” he says. “I’ll explain it when we’re in the car.”
My heart beats a little quicker as I take in the worried expression on his normally relaxed face. He types something into his phone before we walk down the wide staircase to the main floor. “Come on. We need to go out the back.”
He takes my hand and leads me to the back entrance, then stares out the window. As soon as the limo pulls up, he says, “Let’s go. We need to hurry.”
The driver steps out and opens the door for us while Hudson and I rush to the car. I get in first, then slide out of his way and wait, my stomach twisting as I wonder what the hell is going on.
Once the door is closed, he lets out a sigh and stares at me for a second. “Someone was filming us when we were in the balcony.”
“What do you mean? It’s already on the internet?”
He nods. “Unfortunately, yes.”
I stare at him for a second, watching as his jaw clenches and he glances out the window, wondering if my coach has already turned into a pumpkin far before the clock struck twelve. “Well, that’s not such a big deal, is it? We were just kissing,” I say as the limo crawls through the alley.
“In theory it’s not a big deal, but now that it’s on video for public consumption, it’s going to create a whole new level of interest in you,” he says.
I open my clutch and pull out my phone, one part excited and one part terrified. I let a little grin escape at the idea of Lando the Liar seeing me snogging a Hollywood superstar. Suck on that, Lando. I’m moving up in the world. “Let’s see what they have to say.”
I search Hudson Finch opera date and immediately a bunch of videos pop up. “Whoa. That was fast. The opera’s not even over yet.”
“Yeah, that’s why I wanted to get you out of there. By the time it is done, the paparazzi will be swarming.” The limo pulls out of the alley and when I look out, I see camera crews setting up in front of the opera house. A guy with an enormous lens on his camera spots the limo and comes running toward it, but the driver pulls out and takes off before he can reach us.
“This is not how I was expecting this evening to turn out,” I mutter.
“It’s a lot to take in, I know.”
I offer him a small smile and a shrug. “Well, the whole idea was to get some good publicity, so I suppose we could say mission accomplished.”
He smiles back, trying to look reassuring, but I can see in his eyes, he’s concerned. I look back down at my phone, my curiosity taking over. I scroll through the videos until I get to a famous celebrity gossip blogger. “Ooh, Ferris Biltmore has already posted about us.”
“I don’t think you should watch that.”
“Why not? He’s hilarious.”
“But he’s not exactly kind. Let’s just … forget about all that nonsense and try to enjoy the rest of the evening.”
I glance at him for a second, then press play, my stomach in knots.
Ferris stares at the camera for a second, then says, “Okay, bitches, breaking news out of San Fran tonight. My Hudson is out on a date and it looks like they’re heating up the opera house. Check it out.” The feed cuts and a video of us starts up. We’re sitting in the balcony and just as I’m holding up the playbill, the camera zooms in on us. I watch as Hudson tells me he would very much like to kiss me. You can’t tell what he’s saying on the video, but his words are burned into my soul. We talk for another few seconds, and now he’s kissing me.
Oh God, is that what I look like when I’m kissing? Why is my chin doing that? And why are there two of them? I don’t have two chins. Do I?
The video stops and Ferris bites his knuckle. “Okay, so here’s the scoop on the woman in question. I already got the dirt from my cousin’s best friend’s pet psychic who knows a guy who went to school with her. Her name is Allegra Cammareri and she may look pretty here, but trust me, she ain’t in Hudson’s league.”
“Okay, let’s shut this off.” Hudson tries to take the phone from me, but I pull it away.
Ferris rolls his eyes. “This brings me to my first segment of the night, ‘Hudson, What Are You Thinking?!’”
The words appear next to his head and Ferris shouts in the camera, “Hudson, what are you thinking?! Making out with this … less-than-average person?!”
A terrible photo of me that Lucia tagged me in on Instagram pops up to replace the graphic. It was taken on my thirtieth birthday, and I was sweaty after being out on the dance floor at the bar. I also had just taken a shot of Sour Puss and my face is all screwed up like the cat on the bottle.
