Page 6 of I Think We’re Alone Now

Elle

I took a long,slurping sip of my celebratory Orange Julius as Travis and I walked hand in hand toward Hudson’s. As promised, I did indeed whoop him at Skee-Ball. He was more than a little rusty at the start, but even once he got warmed up, he was no match for my superior skills. But it didn’t matter who had the better roll, or who knew the secret to aiming just right to hit the high point rings. What mattered was that I had just had the best afternoon of my life.

We’d spent hours in the arcade, laughing and joking the whole time. When Travis finally admitted that he was never, ever going to beat me, we’d moved on to Pac-man, a game neither of us was very good at, and laughed even harder each time one of us got taken down by Inky, Blinky, Pinky, or Clyde.

“The orange ghost is not called Clyde,” Travis said, when I bragged about knowing each little guy by name.

“I promise you it is!” I argued back. “I spend a lot of time in malls. I know these things!”

Once we confirmed with the kid behind the front desk—the same one that Travis had glared at when we first came in—that I was indeed right, my winnings had not only been bumped up from a regular size to a large, but I got a cookie thrown in too. And I was more than happy to cash in.

Now, my whole body was thrumming with excitement at the feel of his skin on mine. I kept trying to remind myself that I couldn’t get too excited. That he was only holding my hand like this as part of our cover of being your average young couple at the mall, not because it actually meant something. But still, I couldn’t help but get lost in the feel of it. Of how our hands fit so perfectly together—like they were made to be connected like this.

Chill out, Elle, he’s just doing his job. Nothing more.

The stage was already set up, and a crowd had started to form around it. Some of my die-hard fans were all set and ready to go, making sure they had staked their claim on the prime real estate. Some of them wore outfits that looked like the ones Glitter wore on stage, while others had their makeup done just like her. One girl had even gone all out, replicating the outfit I wore in my latest music video, complete with the neon-yellow and blue workout leotard, mismatched leg warmers, and high ponytail. I tried to hide a smile as we passed, not wanting to draw any extra attention to us, but I couldn’t help but be amazed by the scene. In just a couple of hours this whole area would be wall-to-wall people, mostly teenage girls, who were all there just to hear me sing. How was this my life?

“There you are!” Linda said as we walked into the department store. “They’ve got you all set up over here.” She turned and led us farther into the store, headed toward one of the fitting rooms.

Hudson's had a similar setup in every location we went to. Having cleared out a department close to the entrance, rows of dressing divider screens were arranged to obscure the area of the fitting room so that I would have a place to prepare. On the other side of those dividers were large lighted mirrors in front of long tables that were filled with every kind of hair and makeup product you could think of. The process was the same every night. I'd sit in a chair while multiple assistants flitted around me prepping my skin and hair, before I headed into the dressing room to slip into whatever outfit had been picked out for me, then back into the chair for the final touches of makeup and the placement of the Glitter wig. If I was lucky, I had a few moments of peace to myself in between the first round of makeup and having to get dressed. But once that wig was on, I was officially Glitter. That was the moment I started performing—not when I got on stage, but the second that wig was in place.

“This is quite the setup,” Travis said as he surveyed the space.

“Someone, somewhere put in a lot of thought into how to do this, that’s for sure,” I answered as I hopped into the makeup chair. Immediately, I was swarmed by people who started to brush out my hair and wipe my face with a washcloth. “They had to, though, if they wanted this to be a success.”

“Good point. Your security guard didn’t seem to think they’d thought it through enough.”

“Randall had a bit of a stick up his ass. Some teenager snuck into this staging area at our last stop in Houston. His buddies dared him to do it, so he did. His name was Grayson, and other than the fact that he was maybe fifteen, he was quite the little charmer. He’ll be a real smooth talker when he’s older,” I said with a laugh, recalling the cocksure kid who had talked his way backstage. “All he wanted was a photo and an autograph. He was harmless. But Randall was all freaked out. Kept saying that it could have been a stalker.”

“It could have been a stalker,” Travis agreed, his face suddenly serious. “And you didn’t see the crowd around your bus this morning.”

“That’s not my bus. It’s a decoy, used to attract fans so that I, Elle, can slip into the mall unnoticed. We have a similar crowd everywhere we go.” The assistant who had been grooming me nodded to let me know I was clear to get up and go into the dressing room. Glancing down at my watch, I saw that I didn’t need to rush into my costume quite yet and that I could have a few more moments alone—just Travis and me—which excited me way more than the idea of performing tonight.

I nodded toward the fitting room, and he followed me in, glancing around once we were inside to see if anyone else was in there.

“Is it okay for me to be back here with you?” he asked.

“If I say so. It’s not a traditional dressing room, but it’s still ‘my space,’ I said, using air quotes. “I hang out in here for a bit and change, and then they’ll come get me when it’s time.”

“Is that what you’re wearing tonight?” Travis pointed to the door of the handicapped changing room. A bright blue, ruffled-tulle skirt, paired with a neon-pink T-shirt, hung on the door. A pair of black fishnets were slung over the door, right next to my trademark Bedazzled jean jacket. Somewhere, there was a pair of blue or pink heels to top the whole thing off.

I nodded, unsure of exactly what to say. I couldn’t tell if he was judging me for this or not, and I suddenly felt very self-conscious about it.

“It’s, uh, all part of the Glitter look.”

“And you love it?”

“Performing? I do.”

“Then that’s all that matters,” he whispered, stepping in closer to me. We were so close now that we were practically touching, just like we were back in the arcade.

I felt my heart speed up, and a zing of excitement rushed through me. I wanted to kiss him so bad I could taste it, but I had no idea what he was thinking or feeling. Did he want this as much as I did?

“I…I should get dressed,” I stammered.

“Let me know if you need any help,” he said with a nod. I could feel my eyes widen in surprise, taken aback by his words. But his face was all business, like he’d only said that to sound professional, rather than to light up every ounce of my being.

“Actually,” I said, as I lazily walked into the stall my outfit was hanging in. “I could use help unzipping this dress.”

Travis crossed the room in two steps, closing the gap I had put between us. Moving my clothes inside the stall, Travis shut the door behind him, flicking the lock into place. He came up behind me and placed his hands softly on my shoulders, before gathering my hair in his hand and moving it over one shoulder. A shiver ran up my spine as I watched our reflections in the mirror, and I could feel all the tiny little hairs on my arms stand to attention. The tickle of his warm breath on my skin was almost too much. Moving one hand to the zipper that was on the back of my dress, he placed a soft kiss at the nape of my neck.

“Ohhhhh,” I mewled, and he started to undo the zipper. When he reached the bottom, he looked up and made eye contact with me in the mirror. His eyes were clouded over in a way I had never seen before, but something about it turned me on.

Letting my dress drop to the floor, I sucked in a gulp of air, taking in my nearly naked form in the mirror. My breasts were small enough that I could get away with not wearing a bra if necessary, and the thinner straps on this particular dress always made it hard to keep hidden, leaving me now in just my panties. Another wave of self-consciousness washed over me, realizing that Travis had the exact same view I did. What if he didn’t like what he saw?

Dragging his gaze up and down my reflection, I watched as Travis bit his lip, stifling a groan.

“Elle, you are stunning.”