Not If I Date You First

Chapter 38

I turn to Liam. His eyes are tight with concern, which cracks something open inside of me, and a sob tears loose. He pulls me against him and hurries me into the building.

The metal door clangs shut behind us, and he strokes my hair, whispering, "It's okay. It's okay." His voice is soothing, but I can feel his anxiety in the tense set of his muscles. Hot tears course down my cheeks.

Liam takes my face in his hands. "Want to tell me what that was about out there?"

Taking a shuddering breath, I try to pull myself together. A couple more tears escape, and Liam brushes them away with his thumbs. My lips part, but no words come out. I should tell him why Chrissy's trying to get information on his dad. I should warn him about how determined Agnes is to uncover his story. But I can't.

If Liam finds out I'm to blame for this, he'll hate me. He's watching me, waiting for an explanation, though. I have to tell him something.

"That girl, she's, um...she's my coworker. One of the ones I'm up against for the job at Huntley. She's been taking pictures of us together and using them to try and beat me."

Liam's eyebrows scrunch. "I thought the shots of us were helping you?"

"They were. They are. When my boss decides to give me points for them anyway. Things are different now that I'm not just pretending to date you to help the agency sell photos."

I stare down at the floor as I speak. It isn't a lie exactly, but it sure tastes like one coming out of my mouth. When Liam doesn't say anything, I look up at him. He's staring over my shoulder, biting his lips together like he's holding himself back from saying something.

"What?"

"It's just—" He breaks off, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Liam, what?"

He heaves a heavy breath. "I'm trying to understand here. You get so upset about being photographed, but you want to be one of them. This is what the paparazzi do to people, don't you see that?"

I step out of Liam's reach. I know I have no right to be mad at him, but I'm so emotionally wrung out, I can't keep my temper from kindling. "It's not the same thing. I take pictures of people who are actually famous. Chrissy's taking photos of me, her coworker, to beat me in some stupid competition. And don't pretend like you don't use the press to help you get the parts you want."

Liam folds his arms over his chest. "The shots the paps take can be helpful sometimes. But most of the time they're invasive and malicious. I get that this is your dream. But do you really not see how much it hurts people?"

"I do not take pictures that hurt people," I snap, glaring at him. But then I think about the picture I took of him and his dad and the utter devastation it would cause if it ever got out. Guilt claws at me, but I shove it away, clinging to my anger like a life preserver. It's not as if I'd ever turn it in.

Liam sighs, deflating and scratching the back of his neck. "I'm sorry. I don't want to fight. This whole situation is complicated. You know why I have such a hard time with the paparazzi."

All the indignation drains out of me. I feel like I'm going to start crying again. Of course, he despises the photogs after they helped his dad set him up.

"Come here." Liam holds his arms out to me, and I let him pull me into him. I lean my head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. "We'll figure this out," he says.

I nod.

"That girl out there," Liam's voice is quiet, "she looked familiar. Is she the photog Mia was talking to at the StarTracker party?"

"I think so," I say, even though I know for a fact Mia was talking to Chrissy.

"Do you—" Liam clears his throat. "Do you know why she was asking about my dad?"

I shake my head, grateful he can't see me. My lies are probably written all over my face.

"Those questions she asked tonight—that was weird timing. But it's probably just a coincidence." His voice is distant like he's trying to convince himself.

He runs his fingers lightly over my cheeks and tilts my chin up. "Listen, you're going to beat her, Ace. You're going to get that job. Want to know how I know?"

"How?" I can barely get the word out through the guilt choking me. I can't believe he's comforting me right now.

"Because you're the Paparazzi Queen."

I can't help it. I burst out laughing.

Liam smooths a hand over my hair. "I'm sorry."

"Me too," I whisper, grateful he doesn't know all the things I'm sorry for.

"I'm not usually the type of guy to tell a girl she needs to smile if she doesn't want to," Liam says. "But if you walk into your apartment crying, I think your dad might legitimately murder me."

I snort. "You're probably not wrong." I wipe a finger beneath my eyes, checking for makeup smudges. "How do I look?"

"Gorgeous. Always gorgeous."

I stand on my tiptoes and kiss him, trying to ignore the worry devouring me from the inside out.