Page 153 of Faithful

A single pair. In the very front.

Kai and I turn our heads in the direction of the sound at the same time and I see Lena Kalchin standing up and applauding.

I register a clear division of the opinions inside the hall as the level of noise grows. Some guests are scandalized, but there are quite a few who seem to be smiling.

“It’s going to get ugly,” Kai rasps against my cheek, then grabs my hand and pulls me toward the door and out into the lobby where it’s still empty, but the curious gazes of the hotel staff and security detail are hard to miss.

“Are you mad?” I ask him while we speed walk with no direction, just away from the banquet hall.

Our fingers are still tightly linked.

Our footwear–my Oxfords and his boots–slaps against the tiled floor.

He hides the tulip in the pocket of his coat, and I don’t know or care where he’s taking me.

Frankly, we don’t even make it far because one of Gavin’s PR reps emerges in front of us, calling my name.

“Get lost.” I flip him off for good measure as we turn around and rush back to where we came from.

The doors to the banquet hall are now open and some of the guests are spilling out into the lobby. Several phones are up in the air, no doubt recording.

“What do you wanna do?” Kai asks, coming to a stop.

“What do you wanna do?”

He stares at the hotel entrance and gives me a one-shoulder shrug. Meanwhile, all the possible exit routes start to disappear.

“Fuck it,” I mutter, my heart kicking up a storm in my chest. “It’s already out.”

“Yeah.” He nods. “Better just get ahead of it.”

“Okay,” I agree, tipping my chin toward the front of the building.

The red carpet is still there along with all the event banners and a good number of paparazzi patiently waiting for something to happen.

What I don’t expect is a bunch of young people in Iodine merch pushing against the barricade and screaming my boyfriend’s name at the top of their lungs.

I don’t believe Kai has been at the hotel for more than twenty minutes, but apparently the news about Iodine’s front man crashing a stuffy black-tie event has spread through the city like wildfire through the mountains after a month-long dry spell.

It’s ridiculous how fast his fans have made it here.

And weirdly enough, he doesn’t mind posing for a couple of selfies while the security guards are still trying to figure out what’s going on.

Moments later, a crowd of agitated reporters surges from inside the building, shoving their cameras and microphones mainly at Kai, but some are directed at me.

“Dylan? Do you have a second?”

“How long have you and Kai been seeing each other?”

“Was the incident at Tribeca a publicity stunt?”

“Was your father aware of your relationship with Kai?”

“When did you know you were gay?”

The questions are suddenly too invasive and I’m starting to panic, and this is where Gin and Winona come to the rescue, elbowing their way through the cluster of people around Kai and me. They drag us away from the mayhem.

The security team finally catches on too.

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