Page 22 of Discover Me
"I'm good with that." A goofy smile spreads across Micah's face. "It's not like I have better plans."
My stomach flutters at that smile. I didn’t get to truly see him when he was in my arms the last time but Micah’s not just hot. He’sgorgeousin a rugged, handsome kind of way. But it's more than that. It's the way he carries himself, the honesty in his expression, the fact that he's standing here agreeing to this insane arrangement and smiling about it.
I wonder if it's really that easy to fall for someone. If you can meet them under the worst circumstances, barely speak to themfor weeks, then kiss them in an office and suddenly know that something fundamental has shifted in your world.
I swallow nervously. "Okay, yeah. Let's do this."
I move to the door and pull it open, not surprised to find Tom is right outside. The smug expression on his face confirms he was most likely eavesdropping.
"First off," I say, my voice hardening, "you're wrong for trapping Micah into that contract without explaining shit to him. You know that if he says no now, he'll be a pariah among the fans. They'll insinuate that he did something wrong, that he's breaking my heart. You've made it impossible for him to back out without consequences."
Tom shrugs, completely unbothered by the accusation. "I take it that you both accept, then? Great." He claps his hands together. "Take him home, Kellan. Read through the contract together and see what's required of you. We can amend a few things if necessary, though the core requirements are non-negotiable."
I twist around to see the ease that was on Micah’s face switched out for the overwhelmed look he had when I first came into the office. His eyes dart between me and Tom, almost as if the added presence of reality has made this harder to digest. I don’t blame him.
His good hand comes up to rub at his chest, right where I know the scar runs down from his neck. The gesture feels protective somehow, Micah slowly curling back into his shell. Panic spreads through my chest as I nod to Tom. "Yeah, whatever. I got it." I take Micah's elbow gently, steering him out of the office and past Tom. "Come on."
We walk through the backstage area, past crew members who glance at us curiously. Past Rex and Liam and Jordan who are still hanging around, their expressions ranging from confused to concerned. I don't stop to explain, just keep moving toward theback exit, needing to get Micah out of the chaos and somewhere he can relax again. I really don’t like that look on his face.
It isn’t until we get to the covered parking lot, my beat-up Jeep sitting toward the back. The paint is faded, and there's a dent in the rear bumper from when I backed into a pole. The interior also smells faintly of old coffee and Dr Pepper and fast food because I never learned how to cook. Fuck, I should have cleaned this shit out.
Micah stops when he sees it, his expression somewhere between amused and surprised. I unlock the doors and turn to look at him. "You definitely thought I had some kind of sports car, didn't you?"
Micah looks adorable as color rises in his cheeks. "Maybe. Just a little."
A laugh escapes me. "There's the personality for the band, the image Tom creates. But everything else you're about to see? This is all me."
Micah
I sit on the bed in Kellan's guest bedroom and feel completely out of place. Awkward as fuck doesn't even begin to cover it. The room is nice, nicer than anything in my house. The bed is a queen with a thick comforter and too many pillows, the kind of setup I would see in magazines. The walls are painted a soft gray, decorated with framed prints of abstract art, a dresser and small desk in the corner as well.
Everything about this space screams expensive and carefully curated, and I'm just a construction worker with a broken arm and medical debt sitting here like I belong.
I don't have any of my shit. That's what hits me first. No clothes except what I'm wearing. No toiletries, no phone charger, nothing. Kellan mentioned I could borrow stuff tonight and we'd figure out the rest tomorrow, but the reality of being here without anything familiar makes my skin itch with discomfort.
The apartment itself is full of strange gadgets I don't understand. The TV in the living room must be seventy inches with a sound system that has more speakers than I can count. The kitchen has appliances I can't even identify, shiny chrome things that probably cost more than my monthly mortgage. And the bathroom attached to this guest room? I walked in there and stared at the shower for a full minute trying to figure out how it works. There are multiple shower heads, a digital control panel, settings I've never heard of. I'm pretty sure I'd flood the place if I tried to use it without instructions.
I'm completely out of my element. This is Kellan's world, and I'm just a temporary visitor who signed a contract without reading it properly. The worst part or maybe the part that helped me settle a little was how sheepish he looked showing me to my room.
“The label helped me purchase this. I didn’t need all the luxury but it’s part of the brand. So… um, yeah.”
It felt like he was apologizing to me, his personal touches littered around, when Kellan gave me the quick tour. He'd scrambled around picking up dirty clothes from the living room floor, kicking takeout containers under the couch when he thought I wasn't looking. The kitchen had dishes in the sink and magnets on the fridge holding up takeout menus and a grocerylist. His bedroom door was mostly closed but I caught a glimpse of an unmade bed and more clothes scattered around.
I'd smiled at all of it. At the proof that Kellan is human, messy and imperfect and living a real life beneath the rockstar image. He'd mentioned the guest bedroom was clean at least, apologizing for the state of the rest of the place. Like I care about some dirty clothes when my own house is usually a disaster.
I pull out my phone and dial Jamie before I can talk myself out of it. He answers on the second ring.
"Dude, where are you? I thought you'd be home by now."
"Yeah, about that." I take a breath, choosing my words carefully. "Something happened at the concert."
"Did you meet them? Did you see Kellan?" Jamie's excitement bleeds through the phone.
"I won a backstage tour. Met all of them." I pause, rubbing the back of my neck with my good hand. "And then Kellan asked me out. We're… going to talk, I guess. I'm at his place."
The silence on the other end stretches long enough that I check to make sure the call didn't drop. Then Jamie explodes into a rambling mess. "Are you fucking kidding me? You won a backstage tour AND are at his place? Micah, holy shit! I knew it! I knew there was something there!"
His enthusiasm makes me smile despite the weird guilt churning in my stomach. This is all fake, a business arrangement designed to sell albums. But there's something in the contract that forbids me from telling anyone it's not real. Which means lying to Jamie, to everyone in my life, for the next month.
