Page 27 of Famous Last Words
My heart races as I chew on the inside of my cheek. “So, what do we do now?”
Andy heaves a sigh. “Fran, would you mind going up?”
My brows knit together because surely I heard him wrong. “What?”
“I know I said I’d drop you off after Robbie, but it’s going to look like some sort of PR stunt if he goes in and you come with me—” he shrugs a shoulder, offering me an apologetic look. “I’ll have a car here the second the coast is clear.”
My jaw drops as I glance out at the sea of photographers and journalists waiting impatiently on the sidewalk. There’re even some eager fans in the mix. “What if theydon’tleave?”
Robbie turns around in his seat then, a devilish smirk tugging on his lips. “Slumber party, baby.”
“I’d rather jump off the roof,” I snap back.
“Just head on up,” Andy interjects. “I’ll sort it out.”
My shoulders sag on an exhale. I do believe Andy when he says he’ll sort it out, but going up to Robbie’s hotel room with him was so not part of the deal.
With a muttered curse, I grab my bag and my jacket, unfastening my seatbelt right as the passenger door is yanked open with gusto, the silence in the car inundated by too many people trying to talk at once.
“Robbie, over here!”
“Robbie, what did Lance Draper say to you after the game?”
“Robbie, how does it feel to score the winning goal?”
Robbie stands with his back to the reporters, waiting for me with an annoyed look on his face like I’m taking too long. Fuck him. My gaze dips to his hand held out for me, and reluctantly I take it, holding on to it tightly.
I’m careful as I step out of the SUV, ignoring the cameras and their bright flashes as best as I can, keeping my face void of emotion despite wanting to cower beneath the weight of the unwanted attention, the stares, the raised voices. It’s all too much. I choose to focus on the ground, allowing Robbie to lead me through the throng. And I can tell he’s done this before, ignoring the camera lenses and microphones that are being thrust in his face like a seasoned pro, all the while holding my hand firmly behind him, keeping me close.
By the time we make it inside the safety of the lobby, ushered in by hotel staff, I allow myself to finally breathe.
Sweat pricks the back of my neck. My face is hot, heart hammering against my ribs, knees trembling. I’m on autopilot, staring blankly at Robbie’s back as we continue through the sleek lobby and into a waiting elevator. It isn’t until the doors glide closed that I realize I’m still holding his hand. But as I look down to where our fingers are intertwined, I notice Robbie’s holding mine just as tight. As if he’s noticed too, he quickly pulls away.
“Ew,” I mutter, folding my arms across my chest with a huff.
“You have dead people hands,” he murmurs, pulling his phone from his pocket and proceeding to ignore me by focusing intently on the screen.
When I catch a glimpse of what he’s looking at on his phone—highlights of the game he literallyjustplayed—I can’t help but wonder if he could be more obsessed with himself.
I roll my eyes, staring up at the counter as it ticks slowly with every level we pass on our incline, considering whether or not I should press the button to get off at the next floor. Walking down fifty-two flights of stairs sounds a lot less excruciating than being stuck in a hotel room with an asshat.
CHAPTER 13
FRAN
When the elevator chimes our arrival on the fifty-eighth floor, Robbie is out before the doors even finish opening, as if he can’t get away from me fast enough.
I make sure to keep a few feet of distance as I trail him along the corridor until he comes to a stop at a door at the very end. He pulls a card from his pocket, swiping it against the scanner, the lock releasing with a soft beep. When he proceeds inside, I’m surprised when he actually holds the door open for me; I half-expected him to let it slam in my face.
Stepping over the threshold, the room illuminates automatically, and I take it all in. A giant bed, a separate living area, floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over New York City lit up against the darkness of the night sky. This hotel room is fancy, and at least three times the size of my studio apartment.
Caught in a daze, I walk directly across the room and stop at the window, taking in the spectacular view.
“You hungry?”
“No,” I reply bluntly.
“You sure?” he asks. “They could be out there all night.”
