Page 34 of Reverse

“I’m sorry,” I say softly.

“Not your fault,” he says, pulling out his jeans.

“Well, I apologize on behalf of everyone,” I whisper. Kneeling at his bag, head snapping up, hazel eyes bore into mine, searching for the sincerity of my words—which he finds. He slowly stands and wipes his chest dry, and my own eyes dip briefly before he leans in on a whisper. “Want to know a secret?”

“Sure,” I say as he continues to wipe his body before tossing the towel. Without warning, he fingers his pants and shoves them down midthigh. “I’ve raced a few times.”

“Professionally?” I swallow.

He pulls on his jeans as I admire the bulge of his bicep, the clink of his unbuckled belt again doing more unwelcome things to me.

“Yeah,” he confirms, “I did okay.”

“How did they not know?” I ask, my eyes roaming over his rippling torso as he retrieves a can of body spray, steps back, and unloads it like a deodorant, shooting a few squirts over his muscular chest before pulling on a fresh, long sleeve T-shirt. Even while standing in a stadium full of dirt, the exchange feels intimate. It’s as if we are sharing a bathroom, like a couple chattering as he dresses for a workday.

“Covered from head to foot.”

“Huh?” I ask, completely immersed in my wandering thoughts as he zips his bag and hoists it from the ground.

“That’s how I got away with it,” he says, his eyes catching mine, a whisper of a smile on his lips. “Covered from head to foot.”

“Oh. That’s awesome.”

Easton lifts his chin in goodbye to Jedidiah and the rest of the crew, and I follow his lead and wave my farewell before he gently tugs my arm, ushering me out of the stadium.

“Are you going to tell me your alias?”

“No,” he says simply.

“Of course not,” I grumble, working a little harder to match his long strides.

“Well, I figured since you think I’m ungrateful to be born into privilege, I would highlight some of the perks. And there are a lot of them, Natalie,” he says softly. “I don’t hate it all the time.”

“Just when you want to eat a cheeseburger publicly?”

I’m graced with a featherlight smile. “Yeah. I can still get away with that sometimes, for now.”

“But that might change soon.”

Mixed emotions flit across his features as he shrugs because he doesn’t know his fate—neither do I. Either way, media attention is about to shift in his direction again in a highly invasive way, and that’s the tradeoff. It’s clear to me that he considers it the price he’ll have to pay to share his music. As we make our way toward the SUV, I glance over at him.

“I think I’m starting to understand.”

He meets my watchful gaze briefly. “I think I thought you might.”

TEN

“Lovesong”

The Cure

Natalie

Easton adjusts himself in the driver’s side, fixing the rearview before turning to me.

“What?” I ask as he starts the SUV and raises an expectant brow.

“Seriously, I’ve got a high IQ, but I’m no mind reader—”

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