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His glasses were carefully put back on his face.
Oh.
So not a concussion.
Zara came into focus as she crouched next to him.
His gaze swept over her, taking in her ruined updo, makeup free face, puffy eyes, the whites of which were still red from crying. Her glamorous dress had been replaced with his old, black band shirt that said “Infantstructure” on it in faded hot pink, and the sweatpants he’d gotten in the gift shop.
She was alive.
And she didn’t look pissed or scared or upset at him.
But still.
“I’m sorry I kidnapped you,” he said, getting it out there.
Her lips tipped up on the ends. “You didn’t kidnap me,” she said softly.
She shifted, taking a seat on the floor right next to him, back against the wall. Their hips touched and her legs stretched out beside his but ended at least six inches sooner.
He took his first easy breath since she’d locked herself in the bathroom.
Her arm brushed his as she folded her hands in her lap and tucked them in between her thighs, crossing one ankle over the other.
He stared at their feet. Both bare.
Hers were small and pedicured, the toenails a dark red color that had matched the dress she’d been wearing earlier.
His feet were not as fancy. Much larger in size. Had his big toe always looked like that?
He flexed his feet and studied them side by side.
Huh.
Those were his feet all right.
He looked at hers again. They were really pretty. He couldn’t remember ever thinking feet were pretty before in his life.
Should he be doing more with his hygiene in regard to foot care?
“You probably saved my career,” Zara said thoughtfully, interrupting his thoughts.
That was too noble an accusation but he didn’t argue.
Now that he was on the floor and not freaking out about the world’s most beloved pop star maybe possibly dying in his bathroom, his breathing returned to normal. As did his heartrate.
A chill swept through him and he became aware of the temperature in the room.
Damp still clung to his back and underarms but he no longer felt like he was suffocating. He reached one arm over the edge of the A/C unit and reversed his previous temperature selection.
The appliance finished its cycle and shut itself off. The room grew quiet. Through the walls, he could hear the sounds of the hotel—slamming doors, children running, happy shouting.
He continued to stare at his feet that didn’t match her perfect ones.
“Thanks for the clothes,” she said, her voice soft and tired.
He thought he nodded. He meant to.
