Page 32 of Heartbeats and Hashtags
“Well…I saved the day. I got us a room!” Everly announces, stroking the base of her neck. She looks pretty, wearing a tight blue tank top and flowing short, white skirt.
I blink, surprised she has managed to sort this so quickly.
“That's great.” At her uncertain gaze, I follow up with, “Right?”
“Yeah, it’s good but, slight hiccup... They only had one room left.” Everly bites her lip. “It's a double.”
I push down my reflexive spike in pulse.Keep your cool, man.
“No problem. I'll take the couch,” I assure casually. “Navy cots have given me plenty worse nights.”
Her shoulders slump a little.
“Yeah, of course!” she chirps a littletooenthusiastically. “Totally sensible for me to take the bed, alone,,” Everly’s voice curls up at the end, and she looks up to my eyes.
I nod, fumbling for any words under the spell of her sultry gaze, my mouth going dry.
An awkward air looms between us. I move to grab our bags before my imagination can take this any further.
“I'll bring these down so we can turn in early.” Everly gives a tight nod, still nibbling on her lip absently.It hurts how badly I want to pull that lip between my teeth.
I let out a strained exhale, heading downstairs alone. I have a feeling tonight is going to test my control.
The room is smaller than the double suite we’ve been staying in,much smaller, but still luxurious and nice. Everly makes her way down and perches on the bed, checking her phone habitually. I watch as she comments on a few things, engrossed in the online world.
“Got a minute to chat?” I pose the question lightly. Everly glances up from her phone, wary but nodding. I take a seat on the plush couch facing her on the bed.Hmm, I guess this is technically my bed for the night.
“I wanted to float an idea, if you're open to it,” I begin. “Have you considered opening up on your platforms about the unpleasant parts of this campaign trip?”
Everly drops her phone and raises an eyebrow skeptically. “You mean admit I was totally useless at the photoshoot? No way, that's embarrassing! Andgoodbyeany future brand partnerships.”
“I just…wonder if your loyal followers would appreciate seeing behind the scenes a bit more — the stressed moments versus just the highlight reels.”
“I share real stuff all the time though,” Everly insists, sitting up straighter. Her tone has a sharp edge. “I share plenty of real moments of my life. Makeup-free days, unfiltered shots. I’mveryauthentic with fans.”
I’ve seen the stuff she shares. I view it as important research to try to watch her content. I am impressed by Everly's chatty, informal yet really informative fitness instruction style. However, maintainingprofessionalismproved…challenging at times. Mostly because blood would immediately rush to my groin. It makes me feel like a teenager watching Margot Robbie on screen for the first time.Fuck. I clench my jaw at the sudden tightness in my jeans as Everly shifts on the bed, her skirt riding teasingly higher.
I hesitate before suggesting, “Right, but does it convey the full, raw picture? For instance, do your fans know you struggled so much emotionally at that shoot before I stepped in?”
“Well, no...” Everly's shoulders tense at the memory. “But no one needs to see OhItsEverly fall flat on her face thanks to some imposter syndrome meltdown.”
“But what if that very vulnerability connected you more truly with followers?” I ask gently. “Helped them feel less alone grappling with insecurities too?”
Everly bites her lip, clearly torn. I lean forward intently, willing her to understand her gift for outreach. I’d seen it at the youth center. She could make people feel great about themselves.
“That ability to empower others begins with owningallpieces of yourself first — bright scenes but messy ones too. And I suspect that brave honesty would only make fans love and trust you more. It’s OK to have a bad day. Everly, I think the real you isfuckingfantastic. You’re one of the most incredible people I’ve ever met.” And its true. I’m not sure what it is about her that makes me open up. I haven’t spoken with anyone like I do with Everly in years.
A conflicted expression crosses her face. I examine her slowly. Right now she looks so small. The confident, fiery woman I’m used to is hidden. I fight the urge to wrap my arms around her and tell her it’s all going to be OK, that I’m here. I want to be here.
She takes a deep breath. “Alright, Cole Silver, maybe you've got a point. I'll give your idea more thought.”
I'm lying uncomfortablyon the edge of the cramped couch, eyes closed, though sleep remains out of reach. This furniture wasnotdesigned for a man of my size.
I hear the bathroom door open and Everly's soft footsteps cross the carpet. I keep my breathing steady, not wanting her to feel awkward if she notices I'm still awake.
Even with my eyes closed, I am hyperaware of her presence. My training makes it second nature to track movement and changes in my surroundings. But it's more than that. Somedeeper, primalinstinct draws my focus to her in any room.
I hear the gentle rustle of sheets as she slips beneath the covers. The domestic simplicity of going to sleep near each other plucks at something deep inside me.
