Part 25 (1/2)

”Kyra.”

I shut my eyes and fold my arms. The world I could stare down. Zach is another matter. One harsh word from him could hurt me worse than a hundred hate mail letters.

I hear him get up from the couch and I hold my breath, bracing myself. I imagine the sound of his footsteps retreating and the door opening. But I hear nothing, not even the sound of his clothes rustling.

Like a jolt from a cattle prod I feel his hand grasp my arm. He's so close all of the sudden. I hear him exhale and feel him nudge my knees apart so that he can kneel in front of me.

A single tear escapes my eye and I begin to shake so bad that I'm afraid I'm going to fall apart completely.

His arms go around my waist and he pulls me to lean against his chest. My arms go around his neck instinctively and more tears course down my cheeks.

He strokes them away with his thumb. ”I'll beg,” he whispers. ”I'll do anything. I'll sing.”

”Without autotune?” I whisper.

”Yep.”

I know I should laugh, but I cry harder, clinging to him hard enough that my nails bite deep into the fabric of his s.h.i.+rt. I kiss his cheek and the line of his jaw, my hand sliding up to grasp the side of his neck. And still I'm crying. Any minute he'll peel me off him with a look of revulsion. There's no way he'll keep letting me nuzzle him with my warm, on-the-verge-of-runny nose. Finally I pull back and grab a tissue to clean myself up, and still he stays. His fingers trace my cheekbones and stroke their way down my hair. I feel him startle slightly when he spots my tattoo. He turns my arm to get a better look and I feel his fingers trace the design. ”This new?”

”Yeah.”

”I like it.”

”Zach...” I still can't open my eyes and face him.

He leans in and kisses me. He's not the same kind of desperate he was the night of our first kiss. He's lonely, but he's not rushed. He moves like he's got all the time in the world, and his fingers stroke my hair and face like he's memorizing me. I kiss his fingertips and his palm and he tugs me up out of my chair to lead me back to the couch with him. Soon we're lying next to each other with the familiar weight of his leg over mine, and finally I open my eyes and meet that forceful, devastating gaze of his.

His lips twitch, then curl into a smile. ”I win? You give me another chance?”

I'm the one who needs to ask for a second chance, but I can't argue because his lips are on mine again. I wrap my arms around him, feeling the solid, weighty, realness of him.

”My roommate,” I whisper between heart stopping kisses. ”She'll be back, eventually.”

”Lizard can deal.” Zach presses his lips to my neck.

”What did you call her?”

”Lizard.” He kisses the bare skin over my collarbone. ”She and I go way back. We were part of the cheesy blond kids' entertainment union. You know, factory-made by Hollywood?”

I snort a laugh.

He pulls back and looks down at me. ”She's one of my oldest friends. She's who I was talking to the first night you and I met.”

”Oh.” I look up into his gray blue eyes. ”Whose idea was it for me to be her roommate?”

His right eyebrow twitches, whether with amus.e.m.e.nt or irritation I couldn't say. ”Hers. She's like that. Been calling to tell me how you are every other day.”

”Really?”

”She's your fan. Not mine. Made it clear where her loyalties lie.”

I'd be grateful if I wasn't so surprised.

Zach settles himself against me. and smooths my hair back from my shoulder while I try to come to grips with all this.

”So, no moving on?” he presses.

”Okay.”

He gives me another kiss on the neck before he says, ”How have you been?”

”Pretty much like you've seen in the tabloids.”

”No, I mean, how's it been? What all happened, for real?”

I shrug. ”Where do I begin?”

He s.h.i.+fts to rest his head on my shoulder, his arm around my waist and our legs scissored together. ”Wherever you want. I'm not going anywhere.”

In the end, we talk for a few hours and then fall asleep. Apparently that's our pattern. Lizzie, when she gets home, wakes us up with the sound of the key in the lock, and at the sight of us trying to disentangle ourselves and act dignified, she bursts out laughing. Her smile at Zach is pure triumph.

THE PAPARAZZI know about me and Zach, of course, but we don't let them get any clear shots of us. That means no nights out unless we meet at a restaurant, use a private back room, and arrive and leave separately.

It doesn't take me too long to realize, though, I'm comfortable with that whole routine. I know how it goes. All those times Jen told me I was a part of celebrity culture, I never got it, but now I do. This is my life-for real.

It's weird.

But what's weirder is how the public stays interested in me and Zach. Pictures of him sauntering out of my apartment building at midnight still sell to the tabloids until Zach rents a unit a few floors down from mine. People wonder whether the pictures mean we're not sleeping together or we're just not doing the actual sleeping part together.

It's no one else's business but ours. Zach is not and will never be another notch in my bedpost. He's one of the best friends I've ever had.

Over the holidays, Zach and Logan head back to North Dakota to spend time with family members they've barely seen for the last ten years while I go back to New Mexico to fill lumenarias and help make tamales and posole. Zach calls me for an hour every night to tell me all about the people he never knew he was missing from his life and I tell him about my Christmas traditions, like walking around Old Town on Christmas Eve and singing carols by the light of a thousand candles flickering inside brown paper bag lanterns.

And the paparazzi finally evaporate away like mist under the hot sun. Ben gets himself busted for driving under the influence. One of Jason's former co-stars is murdered by her boyfriend. The insanity moves out of my life, but it never leaves the world.

When I get back to school after the holidays, though, Zach's waiting in my apartment with another bombsh.e.l.l.

”I want the world to know about us,” he announces. ”More than they already do. I want you on the red carpet with me and I want pictures together and I want... I want to go public.”

This request might all seem a little strange, given the world already knows we're together, but he's talking about a real distinction. There's being together on the down low, even if the media find out, and then there's being together openly and publicly. There are celebrity marriages that don't even go this route, people who never walk a red carpet together or do a joint interview. Zach is talking about diving head first out of the frying pan and into the fire. Together.