35. Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Tripp

If I thought things got wild after I very-publicly asked Willow out, I don't know the word for whatever the fuck is going on now.

People hang out by my apartment, trying to get a glimpse of us out together, doing literally anything. Per Willow's security team, we've hired a few more people for the time being.

Every day, ten new headlines pop up, still using pictures from Willow at the first game and our breakfast date. Most of them make me eye-roll, laugh, and then text my mom to make sure she knows it isn't true.

That part sucks.

But there's a part of the press or media frenzy who have chosen to focus on the positives. Plus, Willow's massive fan base has latched on to these and they seem to get more traction than the bullshit ones.

Willow and Tripp – From Super Bowl to Super Cute Couple

Tripp Owens with the Catch of His Life: Willow

These are the types of headlines that make me want to drop everything and spend all my time with Willow. Even though it's impossible.

Since we're no longer a secret, Willow has been at my place almost every night this week. She even rented some studio space in the city. The commute back and forth to her place isn't short. The fact that she'd rather work on her new album at a studio closer to my place makes my heart hurt, in a good way.

Honestly, my trainers haven't seen much of me these last few weeks. I'm doing everything team related but I'd typically have more one-on-one during my "off time". It's the cost I must pay to spend more time with the beautiful woman posted up at my apartment.

Tonight, we have a charity Gala hosted by the Cosmos owner. It's for a new charity dedicated to the well-being, health, and safety of animals. All I know is that there will be dogs there. Also, Willow is going with me.

Emilie called me to line up all the glam team details for today. It was easier once she explained what the hell a glam team was. I look at my watch and bet they're still in my apartment.

I open my apartment door to see, what I'm guessing, is the glam team on their way out. They smile and tell me to have fun tonight. The only one I recognize is Claire, her manager. And I don't think she's there for hair and makeup.

Once everyone is gone, besides Claire, and before I can look for Willow, she walks into the living room. My feet are planted to this floor. I can't move. She looks fucking incredible.

Her dress is black, but a mix of fabrics. The top is structured, tight to her body, while the bottom is fluffy layers of chiffon. When you're an only child and your dad is a dead beat, you spend a lot of time with your mom, learning words like chiffon.

"There he is," Willow says as she walks to me.

"You look—Wow." I reach for her hand and twirl her once she accepts. Her laugh fills the penthouse and it's the most beautiful sound. "This dress is stunning."

"Thank you. It's an up-and-coming designer. Emilie made the connection, they sent the dress, and I knew I had to wear it tonight. I love it." She picks up layers of chiffon letting them rise and fall.

"You should be all set for tonight. I know you're sitting with Zack, maybe a couple other singles. I didn't want some random plus one being all nosy at your first major event together," Claire says as she lays out the game plan.

"You're the best. Thanks for knocking out some stuff while I was getting ready," Willow says to Claire, grabbing her hand.

"For sure. Don't let Emilie get wild tonight," Claire says. I know Emilie is going to be sitting at a table near us. Each player had some extra tickets to give out because a packed gala means more money for the charity. Emilie was an easy invite. We asked Claire if she wanted to come and she scoffed at us and actually never answered. Long story short, she won't be making it.

Claire is still working on the label when it comes to Willow's new tour. Seems like she handles a lot of the behind-the-scenes things, especially when Willow is in the recording stage.

I can't stop staring at Lo. She literally makes it hard for me to breathe. Her lips are painted a dark pink, almost magenta. I love her signature pink lip. I feel like most women wear a red lipstick for things like this, and I love that Willow has her own spin.

"MVP, you better go and get ready," she says while smoothing her hands down the front of her dress.

Claire chimes in. "Don't forget to wash your face. You've got some drool," she jokes as she gestures to my mouth. She claps me on the back before she leaves.

The car stops and I can already hear the incessant click of the cameras. I open the door and step out first. My hands brush the front of my black suit, and I double check the buttons. The crowd is getting unruly quick. They know Willow is in the car. Waiting .

I stand in front of the opening for a few seconds, giving everyone a slight smirk. When the sound is at what I think is an appropriate hype level, I reach my hand in and help Willow out. Her foot hits the carpet. The clicks are constant, and the screams are deafening—goosebumps pebble my arms under my designer suit.

Instead of letting her hand go, I give her a quick spin. She's caught off guard, and it leads to an earnest smile. We hold hands after, and I know I'm feeding into exactly what the paparazzi want. Sure, I may yell at the ones who cross a line but I'm also here to give a shot to press who follow the rules.

We walk to the carpet, hand in hand.

Willow! Willow! Over here! Tripp!

It's overwhelming but I actually don't mind it. This is the first time I've attended something like this with a date. I swallow back the emotion—I will not cry on this red carpet. I try to soak in the cheers, Willow's hand firmly in mine, and the coy look she gives me. Our eyes lock for a moment, long enough for me to know I want to swim in that golden gaze.

While we're posing and slowly making our way down the red carpet, I hear a laugh I could pick out of a lineup. Zack. I look back just in time to see him reach for Emilie's hand. She's confused but grabs it and he pulls her in for a pose. The press loves it. Emilie quickly bounces back, replacing her furrowed brows with a face fit for the red carpet, like she's done it a hundred times.

"What in the world?!" Willow says while seeing what I see. "I swear, that woman can do anything." She shakes her head and laughs.

"Zack and I share the same kind of spontaneity," I say as I dip her so fast she grabs my arms like I'm going to drop her. I would never. When she realizes what I'm doing, she wears a pink smirk that I can't help but kiss .

It feels like every camera turns our way and leans in. I prolong our kiss, because I fucking want to, and I know everyone is eating this up. This famous thing? Not so bad when you're kissing your gorgeous girlfriend who kisses back like she means it.

I know this isn't typical red-carpet behavior. The Cosmos PR team briefed us about the event and used words like high-brow, sophisticated, and refined. Whoops.

We have more fun than I ever remember having at something like this. Emilie ended up joining our table since Zack said he was bringing a plus one but that didn't work out. Who knows what flavor of the week he was planning on.

Everyone acted like Willow and Emilie were part of the crew. The drinks were flowing, the snacks never stopped, and now I'm listening to Willow moan over a piece of caramel popcorn cheesecake.

That fucking moan.

Not me adjusting my crotch while the owner of the team holds a golden retriever puppy, trying to get someone to take this dog home. Sneaky bastard.

After the festivities, it's more drinks and music. Some people approach our table and ask to take pictures with Willow. She's a queen and says yes to every single one of them.

We're standing at a high-top, just the two of us. Zack and Emilie ditched us an hour ago to dance. I'm pleasantly buzzed. Not drunk but everything is soft enough around the edges. I can tell Willow is feeling the same way .

Her hand finds the nape of my neck where she draws slow circles as she leans into me. I hold her hand and plant kisses on the inside of her wrist. She wraps her arms around my neck, and we dance during a slow song.

"How about one more drink and then we go home?" she croons into my ear.

"Home. I fucking love when you say that." I wrap my arms around her lower back and then lift her up, spinning in a circle. She throws her head back with a laugh that's a little louder than it would've been two glasses of Champagne ago.

I set her down, plant a kiss on the sensitive spot between her jaw and ear. She acts like it tickles but I know it's one of her favorite spots for my mouth.

I walk to the bar and find myself next to a sweaty Zack, chugging a glass of water.

"Maybe your plus one was afraid she would drown if she came tonight." I look him up and down, pull him in by the shoulder, and shake him when we both laugh.

"The dance floor is where it's at! You'd know if you weren't wrapped up in what I'm guessing is going to end up being the love of your life." Zack puts the gin and tonic to his lips. His words hit me. I let them land. What if he's right? Fuck . I hope he is right.

"I can't get over how chill she is with the guys. Like, I want to hang out. Not at a fancy gala where there are sad puppies being paraded around but how about a bar? We could totally do that." Zack runs his hands through his hair which looks much darker because of the sweat.

I look over at the high top and see Willow with someone. A guy. Someone I don't know. He leans his arms on the high-top table while they talk .

I order her a Champagne and a neat bourbon for myself. I keep looking over my shoulder to see what she's doing with him. Maybe they know each other? She knows a ton of people. That must be it.

"What's with the scowl?" Zack asks and looks over to Willow.

"Nothing. It's nothing. Do you know who that is?" I ask, my words running into each other.

Zack squints. "No clue."

"Wonder how he got an invite." I scoff, looking for the bartender. I want my drinks. The uneasiness feels like it could choke me.

"What are you even talking about?" Zack laughs. He thinks I'm joking. I don't think I am. Fitting this guy would find his way over as soon as I left.

Willow laughs and puts her hand on his arm. My stomach twists.

The bartender sets the drinks down in front of me. I put a twenty in the tip jar and swipe the glasses. I spill some bourbon on my sleeve.

"Woah, woah. Tripp. Whatever you're going to do—don't," Zack tries to convince me, practically jogging to keep up with me.

I set my bourbon down harder than intended. Or maybe not. Both of their eyes snap to me.

"Here you are, Lo." I hand her the glass of Champagne. Zack awkwardly stands next to me.

"Tripp Owens! You were the man in the Super Bowl last year," the guy says. Willow sips on her drink.

"That's me," I say while taking a sip of the bourbon, welcoming the burn.

"Just a massive Willow fan. Wanted to come and introduce myself. Didn't want to miss my chance." He winks at me. Or at her. Or who the fuck knows. I know I'm being a jealous prick, but I can't help it.

"Bet you didn't." I take another drink, looking at him through the glass. Zack puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes .

"Actually, Oliver is from home, a small town in Virginia, about fifteen minutes from mine. Isn't that wild?" Willow says, trying to bring me back. She gently puts her hand on my arm before gesturing to Oliver.

"What a coincidence," I say less than entertained and not breaking eye contact with this guy.

"It's a small world, and all of that…" Zack tries to jump in, smooth the bumps, but what's done is done.

"Hey, I don't know what I did. Didn't mean to offend you. Or…" Oliver stumbles over his words. He looks at Willow. "It was great to meet you. Honestly. Can't wait for your next album." He reaches out a hand to shake and she takes it.

Oliver leaves without a second look back to us at the high-top.

Willow turns to me, razor sharp. Like knives could come out of her eyes.

"Are you kidding me?" she asks with a voice rigid as steel.