Hearts on Air
Page 43

“I’ll take the hand cream back,” I threatened. “I’ll take it and I’ll empty it all down the sink.”
“Such threats. How is a boy supposed to work in an environment like this?”
Oh God. I wanted to throttle him. Instead I shoved my phone back in my bag and strode forward. I bent low, realising too late that the position afforded him a nice little glance down my top, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. His scent filled my nose and I quickly withdrew.
He practically glowed he smiled so wide. “Now, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
I cocked a brow. “Still feel like a frump?”
“Not at all. Your kiss has miraculous transformative qualities. I feel like a whole new man.”
I gave a begrudging laugh. Why was it that even when he was annoying the living hell out of me he still managed to make me laugh?
I caught something move in my peripheral vision and realised we were being filmed. I was relieved when I remembered I wasn’t mic’d up, but then again, Trev and the others were, and their microphones were possibly strong enough to pick up what I said.
Neil approached then and handed me a list of things I had to pick up from the shop. When I returned, Barry had gathered the group to give a talk. A pair of Ray Bans were perched atop his head and he wore a rumpled brown T-shirt. I set some water bottles and cans of iced tea out on a table for the cast and crew as I listened in.
“I want to get some footage of you lot doing a tour inside before we shoot the outer scenes,” said Barry. “The observatory pods have some great views over the city.”
When Trev spotted me he came right over. “You want to come on the tour with us?”
“Um, I’m not sure. Neil might need my help.”
“He’ll survive without you for half an hour. Come on.”
Trev led me back to where Barry was still giving instructions and a girl came and hooked me up with a microphone. “I don’t think this is necessary. I’m just a PA,” I said to her as she handed me the little black box.
She gave me an apologetic look and shrugged. “Sorry. Barry’s orders.”
I stuck the box in the back of my leggings and fell into step beside Trev. Filming had started back up and a smartly dressed woman led the group inside the building. I realised she was a tour guide when I got close enough to hear her give a brief intro into the history of the building.
I tugged on Trev’s T-shirt sleeve. “I think they’re trying to put me in the show.”
He turned his head, perplexed. “What?”
“I’ve noticed the crew filming me quite a bit the last few days. I know it was in the contract that I might be in footage, but I thought it’d be all background stuff. They have a mic on me and everything,” I said.
“That’s just how it is. Don’t worry. They need to cover all bases,” he replied reassuringly.
“I don’t know. She could be right,” Paul interjected. “Jimbo had that handheld at her gig last night.”
Jimbo was one of the crew who tagged along to my show. The news that he was recording me was worrying. Trev frowned now.
“I’ll have a word with Barry.”
I slid my arm through his and covered the mic as I spoke quietly. “You didn’t mention our history to anyone, did you?”
“No, why?”
“I’m just trying to figure out why they’ve taken an interest in me.”
He was quiet a minute, then took advantage of how I was linking his arm to pull me closer. “I can think of a reason. Anyone with a pair of eyeballs can see how I look at you.”
I stiffened and allowed my arm to fall from his as the fact sank in. I meant it when I said I had no interest in fame, not even the small amount that might come from being featured in the background of Running on Air. Though I adored attention for my music, I didn’t enjoy attention that focused on me personally. I knew it was weird. Most people made music to get famous, but I made music to touch people. I couldn’t care less about having my face plastered across magazines or TV screens. In fact, the very idea made my stomach twist with nausea. Such was the life of an introvert.
There was, unfortunately, another somewhat darker reason why I avoided the limelight. If I were to be romantically linked to Trev, the gossipmongers might start looking into my past, my family history. And I couldn’t bear the thought of them discovering the truth behind my estrangement from my parents and siblings.
“You okay?” Trev asked, noticing my unease.
My brow crinkled. “I’m not sure. Can we, um, can we talk later when we get back to the apartment? In private?” I knew there’d be no chance to talk while we were here, not with the cameras and microphones recording our every move.
“Yeah, sure. We’ll talk,” said Trev, giving my hand a meaningful squeeze as we boarded the elevator. A few minutes later we were led into a round glass observatory pod that looked out onto the city below and I momentarily forgot my worries. It was amazing.
As I took it all in, I suddenly realised exactly what this place was: a flippin’ jungle gym built for Trev’s inner adrenaline junkie, only the architects didn’t know it at the time.
“You’re going to climb this thing, aren’t you?” I said, shaking my head.
Trev peered down at me, his lips twitching. “Yes, but it’s not half as simple as that.”
“I should hope not. It’s gonna be dangerous. I can just imagine you sailing down one of those steel tubes like you’re sliding down a staircase.”
He chuckled. “You know me too well, but don’t worry. There’s been weeks of planning and practice put into this.”
I cast him a sidelong glance. “Are you scared?”
He pressed his lips together, made a show of hesitating, then gave me the most tender smile. “Nah.”
I laughed softly. “Didn’t think so.”
I heard him exhale, felt his attention on me a moment before he joined me in checking out the view. “You ever think this would be our life?” he asked quietly.
“This isn’t my life. It’s yours,” I said, a pain striking my chest, because I wished it was my life. “I’ve just hitched my rusty old wagon to your six-figure RV for a little while.”
I didn’t have to look to know he was smiling. “Sounds like a country lyric. Maybe you should switch genres.”