I find the stickers with the Globe Shoes logo and hand them to him before sitting back on the bed and checking my camera gear. “Are you nervous?” Cordy asks for me.

“Not really.” He sits next to me and starts placing his sponsor’s logos on the underside of his deck. “Are you?”

I’m quick to respond, glad I’m able to talk to him about it. “A little. I’ve never really photographed action stuff before. I watched some videos on it when Chris asked me if I’d be interested. I’m scared one of your boards is going to fly right at my head!”

Josh laughs. “I’ll make sure the boys know where you are at all times.”

I wait until he’s done with his board and he’s looking at me before I have Cordy say, “You know there are pictures of us online from the signing yesterday?”

“Yeah?” he asks, his eyebrows raised.

I nod. “People are commenting, wondering who I am to you and what my name is and stuff…”

“So?”

I shrug. “It’s a little weird, no?”

“Not really.” He scratches the back of his head, and turns to me, his leg folded beneath him. “It’s kind of part of my job, so I guess I’m used to it. People are nosy, and gossip is a marketing tool around here. But if you’re not comfortable with it, I’ll be sure not to play grab ass while we’re out there today.” I can tell he’s half joking, half testing, waiting for a reaction… which I don’t have, because I honestly don’t know how I feel about any of it. It’s not as if we’ve talked about what we are to each other, and I really don’t want to be the center of anyone’s gossip, true or not.

“We’ll just play it cool today, all right?” he says, his tone calm. But I can hear the hurt in his voice and I start to respond but he stands quickly. “It’s no big deal, Becs. We can worry about it later.”

*     *     *

The limo parks at the skate park built under some bridge. Outside, the crowd’s formed, cheering loudly for a glimpse of their heroes. “Let’s pray,” Nico says.

I almost laugh, because praying seems so out of character for these guys. I wait for someone to crack a joke about it, but they don’t. They just bow their heads and close their eyes, all while I look on in disbelief. Nico clears his throat, his accent full when he says, “Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep…”

Someone should probably tell them this is a bedtime prayer… not one used in hopes for luck before something important.

He continues, “…and if I die before I wake…”

The others join in sync, including Josh, “…I pray in heaven, I can skate.”

*     *     *

The three-hour event flies by so fast I barely feel it. The first two hours was just the boys skating, showing off tricks, their love for their profession evident in their smiles and banter. During the last hour, the guys give the crowd the opportunity to earn giveaways—boards, shirts, sunglasses, and those stupid booty shorts. Reece suggests a wet T-shirt contest for those, to which—going by their hoots and hollers—the crowd agrees. Josh shuts it down real quick, eyeing me from across the way, obviously trying to tell me that it’s not at all what goes on when he’s on the road with the boys.

I shouldn’t be worried, but I am. There’s this constant tightening in my chest. It’s there every time a girl calls his name, or when they smile at him in ways that makes it clear they want what I sometimes have… but the worst is when they speak.

They speak.

And I don’t.

“Did you get some good shots?” Josh asks, his hand on my leg once we’re back in the limo and away from prying, public eyes.

I nod, keep my head turned, and stare out the window, wishing for the same silence in my mind that’s a constant from my lips.

As soon as we’re back in the hotel room, he says, “You okay?”

With a shrug, I sit down on the edge of the bed and start removing my shoes.

He adds, “You haven’t said a word since we got in the car.”

My gaze snaps to his, my eyes questioning.

“You know what I mean,” he says through a sigh. “Did something happen there?”

Nothing happened. But at the same time, it feels like everything’s changed. “Things have definitely changed, huh?” Cordy says for me.

“What do you mean?” He leans against the desk on the other side of the room, his arms crossed, keeping his distance.