Page 53 of Lovers Like Us
“What’d you say?” Maximoff asks, lifting his hood over his head. He stands too and sheaths a hunting knife on his ankle. He also pockets a tacticalswitchblade.
He won’t need those, but I know he feels saferarmed.
“I was trying to defend my sister,” Tom explains, referring to Jane, “and to stick up for her, I mentioned that you’re datingsomeone.”
Maximoffscowls.
I stay relatively at ease and hook my radio to my black belt. If Tom didn’t say my name, we’refine.
Maximoff knows this, too, so he asks, “Did you saywho?”
“I told themZac Efron, hence why they think I’m full of shit. If this ends up inCelebrity Crushtomorrow, I also know they’re allassholes.”
Maximoff follows me down the steps. “Thanks for telling me. Go easy on theFireball—”
“I will—here’s my bodyguard.” He must hand the phone toIan.
I hang my earpiece on my shoulder and start unlocking the bus door. Maximoff is one step behind me. If he thinks he’s leaving the bus with me, he’smistaken.
“Hey?” Iansays.
“He’sseventeen,” Maximoff growls. “He’s a fucking teenager who’s in a band, who’s not paying attention to everyone around him. That’s your job, and if you don’t fucking do it, I’ll let Thatcher, Akara, and Priceknow.”
“I understand,” Ian says quickly. “I apologize. It won’t happen again. You don’t need to tell the Tri-Force. Please.” He’swhining.
“Watch Tom.” Maximoff hangs up at that curtendnote.
My brows arch with my barbell. “You made Ian Wreath piss hispants.”
“Akara would’ve made him shit hispants.”
“He’s lucky you’re nice.” I unlatch the door. “You’re not coming with me, by the way.” I extend my arm in the stairway, blockinghim.
Purplish bruises shadow his eyes. I scrutinize him a little longer, and a pit tries to wedge in my stomach. Shit, I don’t like seeing him hurt. In anycapacity.
“Why not?” Maximoffcombats.
Starting with my thumb, I count off the reasons. “You look like you were in a fistfight.” Pointer finger. “You’re a severely recognizable celebrity.” Middle finger. “Refer to reasons one andtwo.”
On any normal day, Maximoff wouldn’t care if people caught wind of his location or if fans bombarded the hotel. He’s used to that chaoticshit.
But we all agreed to keep locations as safe as possible for Beckett and Sullivan. Those two were never on theWe Are Callowaydocuseries, and so they were able to foster private lives much easier than Maximoff and Jane. They’re not that accustomed to quickly amassingcrowds.
Akara wants to ease them in if wecan.
As much as Maximoff loves his cousins, he’s always risked his personal safety to feel free. Posting his location, in real time, is his norm. Now he’s at the mercy of these confining restraints, and unfortunately for him, onlyIcan unbucklethem.
“I’m hiding the bruises,” Maximoff says, about to slip on Ray Bans—I catch his wrist. Stoppinghim.
Our eyes neverdetach.
“That’ll hurt,” I warn. His sunglasses are going to sit near thefracture.
“I can handle it.” He tries to take a breath, but his chest collapses. “Farrow, I’m not staying behind on this bus. I need out. On the chance that someone recognizes me, it’s 4-something-a.m. and there can’t be that many employees awake.” He nods a couple times. “We can deal with one or two peoplenoticing.”
My choice directly affects his life and the lives on that bus. I weigh the risks, grappling for a middle-ground where he feels safe andfree.
When I release his hand, he gently puts on his Ray Bans. Concealing the black-and-bluemarks.
