Strike a Pose (Blame It on Fame #1)

43. Willow

Chapter 43

Willow

“ A

re you sure you’re ready for this?” I ask Riley as my Rolls-Royce comes to a stop along the curb of 20th Street in front of Gramercy Tavern. Tonight is the first night of our weekend together in New York and we had decided that we’d have our first public date tonight. So, rather than dine at one of the exclusive clubs my family has membership to—like 10 Cubed, Casa Cipriani, or the Century Club—we’re here, dining like anyone else in the city. “Really, I wouldn’t blame you if you got cold feet,” I say as paparazzi begin to climb out of their cars or throw their bikes to the side, cameras already flashing as they try in vain to capture us on the other side of the tinted windows.

We should’ve taken the more nondescript Cadillac Escalade , I curse internally. Then they wouldn’t have found us so easily.

“I’m sure. I want to do this, Willow.” Riley squeezes my hand reassuringly. “Do you?”

“Of course.”

“Then let’s do it,” he says, reaching over me to open my car door .

I exit the car to shouts of, “Willow, are you really dating Riley Coleman,” “Willow, who are you wearing,” and “Willow, come on, give us a smile.” They quiet for a fleeting moment as Riley climbs out of the car behind me before starting up even louder this time. “Riley!” “What’s it like dating Willow Jordan?” “Are you in love?” “Don’t be shy, give her a kiss for us!”

I don’t realize I’m frozen in place until Riley appears at my side, wrapping his arm around my stiffened waist. I instantly relax at his side, his presence doing more to calm my nerves than any drug ever could.

“Have I told you how much I love this dress?” he whispers in my ear, soft enough that only I can hear it.

I love the dress too. I specifically requested it custom-made from Di Pesta after fawning over something similar I saw at a Milan afterparty. The sheer, baby-pink fabric is intricately draped and sewn to create the illusion of being soaking wet. The skintight, floor-length gown is more heavily layered—and thus opaque—over the more private areas while leaving the rest of the body on display through the fabric. It’s dazzling, and I couldn’t imagine a better time to wear it than on my first public date with Riley.

“Thank you.” I smile at him as Justin cuts a path through the paparazzi for us, Tito following.

Justin opens the door for us, and we’re met with warm lighting and soft jazz playing below the indiscernible chatter from the tens of tables. Then, slowly, everyone in the restaurant goes silent, staring at us with wide-eyed gapes.

“Hi there,” Riley drawls to the stunned hostess. “We have a table under Coleman.”

“Yes—I—” she stumbles, looking from me to Riley, then back to me again. “You’re Willow Jordan,” she states, then her eyes widen as though surprised by her own statement .

“I am,” I answer, trying to calm her nerves with an easy smile. Unfortunately, it only seems to make her more flustered.

“Right, this way, guys. I mean, just follow me.” She walks us to a cozy two-top in the center of the dining space. She places the menus on the table and scurries away with a quick, “Enjoy your meal.”

Riley is holding back a laugh as he settles into his chair.

“What?”

“She was so into you.”

“No, she was just starstruck.”

“Nope. She hardly looked at me, only at you. I’m pretty sure she had literal heart-eyes.”

“As if you don’t have the same face when you look at me,” I tease.

“Exactly. That’s how I knew she was into you,” he answers smugly.

“But you’re not jealous?”

“Nope. Because you look at me that way. That’s how your dress got wet. All that drool.”

“Really, that’s how you think it got wet?” I laugh. “When we left the apartment, it was dry, Riley. Then you put your hand on my thigh in the car, and now it’s…” I look down at the dress dramatically.

Riley chuckles. “Glad to know I have that effect on you.”

“As if you didn’t know already. Weren't we supposed to be here thirty minutes ago?” I raise an eyebrow.

“They didn’t seem to mind that we were late.”

By now, the other patrons are turning back to their own conversations, growing tired of gawking and taking photos—photos I’m sure have already been uploaded to different social media platforms.

“You okay?” Riley asks, noting my silence .

“Yeah, sorry. I’m just thinking about how, by this time tomorrow, the entire world will have seen the photos of us from tonight.”

“Is that worrying you?”

“No. They deserve to see this dress.”

Riley laughs. “Yeah, I’m sure the dress is what they’ll be talking about.”

“For sure.”

A waiter approaches and takes our order, momentarily interrupting us. Once he leaves, I ask the question I’ve been dreading. “So, what’s the plan after this weekend? We haven’t really discussed it.”

“What do you mean?”

“How often will we get to see each other? I mean, obviously, we would be doing long-distance. You’re based in Nashville, and right now, I’m mainly between New York and LA.”

“My label has offices in New York and LA, too. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if I asked to work on my next album in one of those cities.”

“You aren’t tied to a specific Nashville producer?”

“No. I work with a few different producers. And anyway, these days, they can do pretty much everything remotely. No need to physically record the song in the same city that someone else is producing it in.”

“Really?” I ask, excitement creeping into my voice.

He smiles bemusedly. “Really.”

“So, you could come to New York?” I ask, needing to hear the words stated plainly to believe them.

“I could come to New York.”

“Oh my God, Riley! This is such a relief. I thought we’d only see each other every month or two.”

“Come on, Willow. As if you don’t have me wrapped around your finger tight enoug h that I’d crawl to the ends of the Earth for you.”

I practically swoon in my seat. “I think that’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

He smiles, candlelight dancing across his face. “There’s a lot more where that came from.”