Page 56 of Verses Of Us

“It was.” He dropped her hand before tucking his into his pocket.

Tension radiated from him despite the smile he was clearly forcing. Alexis knew the experience bothered him more than he was letting on, but not wanting to ruin what had been a great day, she kept her worries to herself.

SAD TRUTHS

Alexis

Theprospectofwanderingthrough the city without Ciarán being recognized was a foolish one, but Alexis clung to it all the same. She wanted to have fun with him and enjoy the simple things. Soon, though, she saw that would never happen.

Alexis stood on the sidewalk while Ciarán, huddled in a small crowd of fans, posed for pictures and signed autographs. She was desperate to tear him away from their clawing hands, but all she could do was watch and wait from the sidelines.

Over the last few days, they had grown to know each other in many ways. Alexis had experienced things sexually and emotionally unlike she had before. And perhaps mistakenly, she’d let her hopeful imagination drift to ideas of a future with Ciarán. Of the two of them older, happy, and his fans had remained locked in some sort of time warp, not coming along for the ride.

The crowd swelled, and more people floated toward him, lured by the commotion. Ciarán’s fame wasn’t all that had grown. These fans weren’t the young ones she’d known in the nineties. These were mature women, like her, but who exuded sexual confidence in ways Alexis believed she didn’t.

Deep down, she knew she was being ridiculous. She’d known every inch of Ciarán’s body. They’d spent little time apart. But now when she saw him bathing in the attention—one he’d claimed he wanted to escape while here with her—and how he soaked it up like a drug, the envy was impossible to keep out.

More than envy, it was anger.

When a fan stepped closer and was ballsy enough to kiss him on the cheek, Alexis expected him to shove her off. But he didn’t. He grinned and flirted with her as if Alexis wasn’t standing a few feet away, seeing it all happen. Infuriated, she moved over, stepping in his line of sight. Ciarán met her glower, but his reaction wasn’t one of shame or even guilt, it was surprise, as if he’d forgotten she was there. She stepped back, crossing her arms, sincerely considering ditching him.

Ciarán thanked the fans and pushed through them toward Alexis. He nodded for her to follow him in a way that rubbed her wrong.

They continued walking down the street, Alexis continually one step behind him, trying to catch up. When her eyes locked onto his hand, she wanted to reach for it, to show the fans that he was hers, but she had to remind herself he wasn’t. Ciarán belonged to them as much as he did to her. He was his own person, his own entity, and she was merely a moon caught in his orbit.

The past few days with him had flown by, but he was leaving soon. What more could she expect from a man who wouldn’t even hold her hand in public and who kissed other women as if it were perfectly normal? A dry laugh escaped her as she tucked her hands into her pockets. It was senseless to let it bother her so much.

“What’s the matter?” he asked as they stopped in front of a shop.

Alexis peeked through the window, not remotely interested in what they were selling, but needing to keep her eyes on something that wasn’t him.

“Nothing. Just not feeling great. Can we please leave?” Under her breath, she added, “Get away from the hyenas.”

Even if they’d walked a few blocks, she could still hear a few fans tittering nearby. Tears brimmed in her eyes and she tried to blink them away, keeping her attention on an overpriced red leather purse.

“Hyenas?” Ciarán glanced over his shoulder, laughing. “Lex, don’t be like that. You know how it is.”

“Yes. I do.”

“Oh, come now. Don’t tell me it bothers you.” His tone dripped with placation.

She pressed her lips tightly together and turned to face him. “I’m not talking about this here.”

Another group of women lingered across the street, doing a horrible job of being inconspicuous, and she glared at them. Ciarán followed her line of sight, spotting them, then grunted. He gripped her hand, pulling her toward the curb, and hailed a taxicab, hopping into the backseat.

“The Ritz, please,” he said. Alexis chanced a glance behind them, worried the fans might follow. “Jesus, you’re shaking.”

Alexis looked down at her trembling hands. She clenched them into fists and tucked them into her lap. “I’m fine.”

“You’re seriously rattled because of them?” He jerked a thumb backward, sounding so flippant.

She frowned. “Of course, I am. This isn’t normal for me. How can you live like this?”

“That?” He rolled his eyes. “That was nothing. You should see the fans back home. At least here I can go for walks.”

“You think that was going for a walk? You couldn’t make it a few blocks without being hounded. When that girl recognized you, you practically ran out of the theatre. How can anyone—” She stopped, refusing to say what she thought;How could anyone choose such a life?

Ciarán’s life revolved around music, and she understood that. And she supposed he couldn’t be the celebrity he was without his fans, but the bitterness left by the experience was one she couldn’t ignore.

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