When It’s Real by Erin Watt

30

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1doodlebug1@OakleyFord_stanNo1 I think they’re a real couple

OakleyFord_stanNo1@1doodlebug1 yeah he’s into her

1doodlebug1@OakleyFord_stanNo1

SIX WEEKS LATER

I’m having the time of my life. And that’s saying a lot, because I’ve done some pretty awesome things in my life. Lazing around on private islands. Playing sold-out shows in some of the most gorgeous cities in the world. Not to mention spending time with gorgeous women, from models to actresses to fellow singers.

But none of them were half as gorgeous as Vaughn, and none of those concerts or vacays come close to all the fun Vaughn and I are having. This last week alone, we’ve made enough memories to last me a lifetime.

On Monday we wasted the whole day away on El Segundo beach. It was completely deserted because everyone was at school or work, so we had some actual privacy as we horsed around in the water and then stretched out on an oversize towel, talking about random shit as we shared a huge plate of nachos from one of the boardwalk food trucks.

And on Monday night we fooled around on her bed.

On Tuesday she came to the studio again.

And on Tuesday night we fooled around by my pool.

On Wednesday I kept my promise to her brothers and we took them to my buddy’s house to make use of his halfpipe.

And on Wednesday night we fooled around on my bed.

On Thursday we went to King’s club, where I did an impromptu performance that Vaughn actually called “amazing.” Her vocab is getting better.

And on Thursday night we fooled around in my kitchen. Ty wasn’t thrilled about walking in on us, but we were fully clothed so I don’t know what all his bitching was about.

I ain’t gonna lie—we still keep our clothes on every time we hook up. Is it frustrating as all get-out? Hell, yes. Am I pressuring Vaughn to show me the goods? Nope. Because I promised her I’d be patient with her, and that’s a promise I intend to keep…no matter how much my body hates me for it.

Now it’s Friday and I’m in Vaughn’s backyard for a barbecue on this gorgeous late-March afternoon. The twins are trying to build a house of cards on the patio table, but their flimsy structure keeps toppling over every other second. Paisley’s cooking steaks on the grill, while Ty stands beside her telling her everything she’s doing wrong. Big D is a few feet away, chuckling as Vaughn’s sister and my bodyguard bicker like an old married couple.

Ty’s technically not even on duty tonight. It’s Big D’s shift, but when Ty texted to check up on me and found out I was at the Bennett house for a barbecue, he invited himself along and then showed up before I could even check if it was okay.

He’s crushing on Paisley. Hard.

“He totally likes her,” Vaughn whispers to me. She’s watching Ty and Paisley, as well, a faint smile on her lips.

“And he thinks he’s being stealthy about it,” I whisper back. “Men are idiots.”

That makes her laugh, and the sweet, melodic sound gets the usual reaction out of me—my heart flips and my palms get sweaty. Ty’s not the only one who has it bad.

I’m so into this girl it’s not even funny. And I know she’s into me, too. I see it in the way she giggles at my jokes, and how she laces her fingers through mine every time I take her hand. How she stares at me when she thinks I’m not looking. And bites her lip whenever our eyes meet.

“Vaughn! Your stupid phone won’t stop buzzing,” Shane calls from the deck. “It keeps knocking down our cards!”

“Ha!” she calls back. “Your cards keep collapsing because your foundation sucks!”

She’s right. I’ve never seen a more pathetic pair of cardhouse builders. Vaughn and I drift over to the deck, where she swipes her phone off the table. She checks the screen then walks several not-so-discreet steps away and starts typing furiously.

I come up to her. “Who you texting?”

“Uh…no one,” she says absently, angling the phone to shield it from my view.

“No one?” My hackles are instantly raised. Is she still in touch with W? She told me yesterday that she hasn’t heard from him since the sloppy seconds comment, but what if that was a lie? What if she’s still talking to the jerk?

Vaughn lifts her head. When she notices my dark expression, she puts on a reassuring tone. “It’s not W.”

“Then who is it?”

“No one,” she repeats.

I swallow my rising irritation. “You just shot off five text messages. You’re saying they were addressed to nobody and just disappeared into some weird cyber dead zone?”

Vaughn tucks her phone in her pocket. “I promise you, it’s nothing shady, okay? Can we just drop this?”

“Have you met me?”

An exasperated laugh pops out of her mouth. “Just this once, can we pretend you’re not a nosy busybody?”

“I’m not a busybody,” I object.

“Then drop it.”

“No.” I stubbornly cross my arms. “Who are you texting?”

She hesitates.

“Come on, tell me. If it’s nothing shady, then what’s the big deal?”

After another long beat, Vaughn lets out a heavy sigh. “It’s your mom, okay?”

I blink in surprise. “You’re texting with my mom?”

“Yes.”

“Why? And since when?”

“She’s messaged me a couple of times since we had lunch,” Vaughn confesses. “Just to say hi and see how I’m doing.”

Something twists in my stomach. I think it might be jealousy, but that’s crazy, right? Why should I care if Mom is texting Vaughn? I know they both liked each other when they met, so I guess it makes sense that they’ve kept in touch.

Must be nice.

I choke down a rush of resentment. Well. Lucky Vaughn. Katrina Ford likes her enough to say hi and ask her how she’s doing. You’d think she’d like her only son enough to do the same for him, but apparently that’s hoping for too much.

“I was telling her about the barbecue and I think she was fishing for an invite.”

I stiffen.

“But I didn’t invite her,” Vaughn adds quickly. “I wouldn’t do that without asking you first.”

“Are you asking me?” I ask in a tight voice.

“No…Yes? I don’t know. Do you want her to come? We’ve got plenty of food.”

Which Mom probably won’t even touch. She’s been off red meat since I was in diapers. And why the hell does she want to come anyway? A backyard barbecue is way too pedestrian for Katrina Ford. She prefers black-tie events with shiny lights and swarms of admirers.

“I don’t care either way,” I answer, hoping my tone sounds as indifferent as I’m trying for it to be. “But I don’t get why she’s even interested. Barbecues aren’t her style.”

Vaughn jerks suddenly then fishes the phone out of her pocket again to check the incoming text. Her teeth sink into her bottom lip. “Oh, Oak. I think she really wants to come. Look at this.”

I peer at the screen that Vaughn flips toward me.

I haven’t had a steak in years! Now I’m craving one, thanks to you. Might need to ask my asst to run out and get me one.

Yup, she’s fishing for an invitation, because the woman doesn’t eat meat.

“Just invite her already,” I mutter.

Vaughn brightens. “Yeah?” She immediately starts typing a response.

I leave her to it, wandering over to the grill to have a word with Ty. “My mother’s on her way.”

His shaved head swivels toward me. “For real?”

I nod.

“She bringing her entourage? Should I call in for more bodies?”

“I don’t think so. Besides, Mom knows how to move under the radar. If she doesn’t want the paps to track her here, then they won’t.”

“I hope she wears the red Annie wig,” Big D pipes up. “And those big seventies-style shades? Remember that combo?”

“And the pink leather pants,” Ty reminds him. “Don’t forget the pants.”

I can’t help but laugh as I remember the disguise Mom wore to my last concert in order to sneak backstage unseen. Not that she wasn’t seen. Everyone had been gawking at her. Except the outfit was so ridiculous that not one person suspected it was Katrina Ford, because Katrina Ford wouldn’t be caught dead in something so awful. It was brilliant.

Right now, though, I’m less concerned about the outfit Mom’s going to be wearing, and more concerned about how awkward shit is about to get.