Chapter Twenty-One

Alison and I walk in silence to the lobby. I'm a little taken aback by everything that's happened tonight. It all kind of seems like a blur. And oddly normal. Although, nothing about my relationship with Alison has been normal.

In a way, it's actually been really nice to be just two people getting to know each other. Not Alison Quick, the super talented singer, and her opening act, Archer Stiles. It was just two ,slightly dorky, twenty something year olds celebrating a birthday with family.

When we reach the lobby, I quickly run ahead to grab the door for Alison. As soon as the door is open, I am flooded with voices screaming and flashing lights blinding me. I quickly blink, trying to figure out what the heck is going on.

"Oh no!" Alison shrieks next to me.

"What?" I ask alarmed as I turn towards her.

"The paparazzi found me. How did they know I was here?" There is panic in Alison's voice.

I quickly pull the door shut and walk the few feet towards her, closing the gap between us. I reach out resting my hands on her shoulders.

"It's okay," I start, "What do you want to do?" I glance back at the hoard of people just outside the doors.

I've heard about her past with paparazzi. She's a pretty quiet person when it comes to her personal life, as she has every right to be. These guys want none of that from her though. From what videos on the Internet show, they virtually bully her until they get something they can print the next day. Most of the time, it seems as if the words they print are unrecognizable as the words she actually says. She handles herself gracefully from what I've seen, but she still shouldn't have to deal with this. No one should.

I look back at Alison, whose face is starting to go white. "Alison? Are you okay?" I pull her towards me a bit, but she quickly pushes away from me.

"Don't. They'll see you through the glass, get their picture, and then tomorrow everyone will be reporting that we're an item. They'll dig into your past and try to find something wrong with you. They'll twist anything you've ever done or said to make you look like a bad guy." The look of fear in Alison's eyes makes my stomach drop.

"I don't care what they say about me. I just want to make sure that you're okay."

"Well, I care, okay? I don't want them saying that we're together," Alison spits at me.

I instantly drop my hands from her shoulders and take a step back. I'm knocked for a loop by the acid in her voice. Alison looks at my face and her eyes drop.

"No, it's not . . ." Alison starts, but she's cut off by the banging on the door. Apparently the paparazzi are getting impatient.

"What do you want to do?" I ask, clearing all emotion from my voice. I don't have time to unpack anything between us right now.

"Well, my driver should be here any minute if he isn't here already. I texted him when we left your room. I didn't have him bring security because I thought we were safe. I really don't want to run through that crowd on my own though," Alison says, her eyes starting to glitter with tears.

I obviously don't know exactly how she's feeling right now, but the look of terror in her eyes is enough to make me want to protect her at all costs. But I'm afraid that anything I say is going to make it worse. I have to try though.

"I have an idea, but I'm not really sure how you're going to feel about it," I say to Alison.

I walk further away from the door and gesture for her to follow, trying to get us out of the direct line of sight of the glass doors.

"What is it?"Alison's eyes dart between me and the doors.

"Promise you won't punch me for suggesting it first," I say with a slight laugh.

"I can't promise that, but I'll only throw hands if I feel like it's deserved," Alison gives a weak laugh. Laughing is a good sign, right?

Without thinking, I swipe at one of the tears that escaped Alison's eyes. The second my finger touches her cheek and I realize what I'm doing, I pull it back quicker than if I were touching a hot pan. I wait for her reaction. More specifically her angry reaction, but her eyes are still locked on mine, waiting for me to tell her my idea.

"What if you just stay in my room tonight? Or at least wait them out until they're gone," I add quickly. "I have a perfectly good bed upstairs for you."

Alison raises her eyebrows at me.

"No, I didn't mean it like that." I nervously run my hand through my hair. "I just meant there's a place for you to sleep. A safe place. No one will be able to find you since the room isn't under your name, or mine for that matter. Not to mention, the front desk isn't allowed to give that information out. You can hide out in there and leave when the coast is clear. They have to leave eventually, right?"

"You'd be surprised," Alison murmurs.

She goes quiet for a few seconds. I can almost see the wheels turning in her head as she thinks through what I just said.

"I guess that makes sense," she finally replies, biting the end of her thumbnail. "Yeah, I mean, I definitely don't want to go out there." She gestures towards the flashing lights that are so bright that it feels like we're in the middle of a massive summer storm.

"Okay, then it's settled. Let's go before they realize that door is unlocked," I try to joke.

Alison looks back at the door with a worried look. Again, without thinking, I reach to grab her hand. I swear my brain isn't communicating with the rest of my body tonight. I stiffen, waiting for her reaction. This time though, she lets me take her hand. I wrap my fingers around hers and start to guide her to the elevator.

"Thank you," she whispers.

"I'm on your team," I answer back. "Always."

As I'm throwing my phone charger into my bag, Alison walks out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her hair. She's wearing my navy plaid pajama pants, which are so long on her that her feet are entirely covered by the legs of the pants. Her smiling face is looking up at me from my t-shirt that she is now sporting. Unfortunately, the only clean shirt I had was the Alison Quick tour shirt from Dad. I'm clearly still getting used to this whole life on the road thing. My packing skills are definitely lacking.

I burst out laughing at the sight of her.

"Shut up!" she yells as she throws the towel at me. "Obviously, my first choice in wardrobe wouldn't be a shirt with my own face on it. Or my second. Or my third choice. Quite frankly, I think I'd much rather walk around in my bra." She looks down at her shirt, and sticks her tongue out at the face on it. Her wet ringlets fall around her face like a veil.

I laugh again as Alison runs her hands through her wet hair, pushing it out of the way. I fight the urge to wrap my hands into her honey-kissed locks. Her golden curls frame her face like the sun's rays.

She looks down at my bag, confusion written in her eyes. "Are you packing?"

"Yeah, I wanted to take a few things with me to my dad's room for the night," I answer, walking to the bathroom and grabbing my toothbrush from the sink.

"Wait, why are you going to your dad's room?" Alison's voice raises an octave.

"I just figured I'd give you some privacy and space." I shrug. "I figured you'd want that after everything that happened tonight. Plus, I know I'm not your first choice of roommate."

"Oh, um, okay," Alison says, her voice quiet.

I stop packing and look up at her. "Is everything okay?"

"Um, yeah," Alison's voice squeaks out.

I'm not sure what to do. I take a step towards her but then hesitate, not wanting to make anything worse. And honestly, I'm not even sure what's wrong at this point.

"Can you stay?" Alison gets out in a barely audible whisper.

I try not to let my complete and utter shock at her comment show on my face. I look towards her, trying to read what she's thinking. Her eyes are wide, but sad.

"Of course. I'll stay for as long as you want me to stay." I give her a small, reassuring smile.

Alison responds by making a quick movement towards me. Before I realize what's going on, her arms are around me in a hug. I wrap my arms around her, returning the gesture. Her squeeze is weak, but it feels like she's holding onto me for dear life. We stay like that for a few seconds before she finally pulls away.

I stand there in awe as she turns away from me and heads towards the bed. I keep my eyes on the part of her face that I can still see as she goes. Her features are scrunched up, almost as if something is hurting her. It may just be her nerves about everything that's happened though.

Her movements are slow and hesitant, like she's afraid of moving too fast. I continue watching as she sits on the bed and arranges her pillows. Right before she goes to lay down, I swear I see her flinch in pain.