Total pages in book: 162
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 774(@200wpm)___ 619(@250wpm)___ 516(@300wpm)
Kiera was coming with me. Because Kane offered her the tickets as well, and I didn’t like the idea of going alone. I was not a person who enjoyed crowds or had been to any kind of event like this.
I needed Kiera. And she was more than happy to oblige.
She also helped pick my outfit.
No, she bought my outfit.
She was already at my apartment when I got there, waiting at the door with a large shopping bag in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other.
“Outfit,” she announced, holding up the bag. “Dutch courage.” She held up the champagne. “Since I’m betting you’re close to breaking out in hives at leaving the restaurant on a Saturday night in order to go to a place that is so far out of your comfort zone it may as well be another planet. Which Jersey technically is.”
Not for the first, or even the hundredth time, I was infinitely grateful that the universe brought me a friend like Kiera.
A friend like Kiera who somehow knew exactly what kind of outfit to put me in for attending an extreme sports event where I was dating—that seemed far too pedestrian of a word for what Kane and I were doing—one of the biggest stars in the show. One of the biggest stars on the planet right now. Despite not having any social media accounts or time to follow entertainment news, I scrolled religiously, reading articles on Kane blowing through the globe, flying through the air on a motorcycle, walking through the airport in Wayfarers, face in a phone, texting me.
Well, at least I assumed he was texting me since we’d rarely gone more than an hour without some kind of contact, unless he was actively competing.
Which was tonight, the last of the Supercross events he was competing in.
Kiera and me. Because no way could I fathom going to this event on my own. Me. Who ran kitchens all over the world. Me, who had done everything alone since I left home at seventeen.
Jeans. That’s what Kiera had bought for my first public appearance as Kane’s girlfriend—if that’s what I was—and for the first time I’d see the man in weeks.
I owned jeans. Didn’t think that they were particularly spectacular or special.
But these jeans were something else. They fit me like a second skin; the denim was faded perfectly and sculpted my butt in such a way that I thought it was witchcraft. She had also got a simple white tank. Again, it didn’t sound like anything extraordinary. But something about the thick, ribbed fabric, the way the sleeves curved slightly inward to be more flattering on my arms to accentuate my chest and flatten my stomach.
Then she put me in simple sneakers and slung a bunch of gold necklaces around my neck.
And she tamed my hair into slightly more manageable but still wild curls. Did makeup that was subtle but made my eyes pop and my lips look impossibly perfect. My green eyes were almost glowing, the high blush on my cheeks emphasized the cheekbones and made my heart-shaped face look both sultry and soft at the same time.
I hadn’t admitted it to myself, but I wanted to look good for Kane. I wanted to look like I deserved to be with the famous, devilishly-handsome superstar. Though I wasn’t a jealous person, I was mindful of him being ‘on tour’ for the past two weeks. I didn’t exactly know what that entailed, but I could only imagine there were plenty of attractive women in his vicinity. Women with smaller waists, bigger boobs and much less complicated backstories. I didn’t think that I had the ability to be insecure about such things. It turned out I’d never cared about anyone enough to be insecure about them.
Kane hadn’t given me any reason to be unsure. He’d been in constant contact, calling me the second he woke up and the second he went to bed. At all hours.
Yet I couldn’t help feeling doubt.
That he’d see me, and I wouldn’t be what he remembered. That I’d be a disappointment. That I’d been a novelty. One he got caught up in, and once he had distance, a plethora of slim, beautiful uncomplicated women around him, he’d come to his senses. I knew an outfit and hair and makeup couldn’t completely dispel such feelings, but they helped.
Kiera also helped by providing me with endless chatter throughout the trip, barely giving herself a chance to take a breath, and not requiring me to do more than nod and look out the window while picking at my cuticles.
We were escorted from an entrance at the back by large men in suits. Kane had given us the option to be in some private box, but I wanted to be as close to him as I could. Not that I could be that close to him while he was tearing around a track on a motorcycle. And I wanted the true experience of what it would be like to come as a fan, to be on the ground.