Page 56 of Wild Fixation
Jacob flashes a toothy grin at him. “Yes and yes!”
Mason shakes his head and mutters to himself. “How the fuck” is all I catch.
I’ll deal with my roommate’s shock over my superstar boyfriend some other time. Eventually, he’ll come to see that while Jacob is extraordinary, he’s also human. It’ll feel normal some day. Maybe even to me.
That’s a concern for later. For now, I need to get us through the solid block of paparazzi waiting outside my door.
I pull Jacob against my side, holding him tightly. Then I set my hand on the doorknob, but I can feel Jacob wiggling.
“You’re way too excited about this,” I grumble.
“Can I help it if I like it when you go all ‘protective knight’ mode?”
“Yes, you could.”
“Wrong! It’s my nature. No judgments. Now, get us to your steed, O’ Knight. The prince desires pancakes this morn.”
I open the door to cover for the way I want to laugh. Instantly, the cameras are flashing and people are shouting at us, but all I can hear is Jacob’s voice ringing with mirth in my head. I put my shoulder down and haul him along, forcing us through the throng and to my car. Maybe the paparazzi are getting bored. It’s a lot easier to get through them today than it was last night. Or maybe it simply feels easier because there’s less weight hanging off my back.
Either way, we make it to the car, and I pull away while they bang at the windows. I start driving, but not to Ballard.
“Hey, what gives?” Jacob says when he catches on.
“That place is too crowded. I know a better one.”
“But—”
“Even if you weren’t famous, there’s always an hour wait. I’m heading to a place I like. A quieter place. Just trust me.”
“Fine,” Jacob grumbles, and clasps my free hand in his while I drive.
We head north instead of south, away from the city instead of deeper into it. The buildings space out, though Seattle’s sprawl is plenty dense even at the outskirts.
I pull up outside a squat, brown-roofed place that looks like it could have just as easily become a McDonald’s. When I usher Jacob inside, we find kitschy little booths with tacky flower print designs, tiny tables decorated with nothing but a bottle of syrup, and big fake plants on every surface that can house them. The host does a double take, but keeps his cool as he leads us to a booth in the corner. He slides huge paper menus in front of us, the type of menus that double as place mats in a joint like this. I order coffee before he slips away.
“This place is amazing,” Jacob says as a waitress who doesn’t even look at us sets down two bitter black coffees.
“I was always partial to diners,” I say, “but they’re hard to find around here.”
“What should I get? There’s so much on this menu.”
I swap sides to sit next to Jacob instead of across from him. Our shoulders press together as we pore over the menu, me recommending several of the huge, greasy meals I’ve had after a night out — or during the morning after. It’s so intensely normal, so easy, so comfortable. If Jacob was anyone other than who he is, we would have been doing this kind of thing for months, but I savor an opportunity to experience it now. At last.
We end up ordering two different types of waffles and a massive omelet. I stay on Jacob’s side of the booth so we can share the heap of food that shows up. He drowns the waffles in syrup, insisting on filling every square individually, and I smother the omelet in ketchup, salt and pepper. For a while, we’re a normal couple having a nice morning together, a couple obviously smitten and doing all the stupid smitten shit everyone does. Feeding each other, laughing at nothing, sitting too close. We’re ordinary, and everything is the way it’s supposed to be.
But normal can’t last forever. Not when Jacob is involved.
I notice some of the servers whispering to each other first, then our waitress shyly asks for an autograph. That opens the floodgates to the others asking as well, and while Jacob doesn’t mind, I kind of do. We can’t even have one morning together without the rest of the world making it their business.
“I’m sorry,” he says when the wait staff backs off.
“It’s okay,” I say. “This is your life. It’s something I’m going to have to get used to.”
“It’s a lot better with you here,” he says.
The implication digs into my gut. I know Jacob wants me back on the band’s staff. I know he wants me running security. How could Emmett possibly approve that after all this, though? Surely he’s seen the press flurry.
“We’ll see” is all I say, and Jacob lets it drop.
