All Access (The Fangirl Series Book 1) by Liberty Kontranowski Read Free Book Online Page B

way to my apartment. He hangs back behind me a bit, his head down and his fingers flying across the screen of his phone. He’s probably missed a thousand calls on the way here. I wonder how often he has to communicate with his “people” and about what. I get my answer when we burst through my apartment door and he plops down on the couch without so much as looking around.
    “Never a day off,” he says. He shows me stats of missed texts, an email inbox with seventeen new messages (he says he just cleaned them out this morning during his insomniac moments) and four voicemails. All within two hours. One of the texts, I see, is from Robbyn Forderly. Yes, the Robbyn Forderly. Jase’s sister . . . and Niles’s ex.
    Oh, man. This opportunity is too prime. I cannot let this go.
    “Soooo, Robbyn,” I say, nodding toward his phone. I know I shouldn’t go there. I really shouldn’t go there. But I really, really can’t help myself.
    “Jase’s sister? Yeah?” He makes it sound like she’s just some girl.
    “You guys dated for quite a while, right?”
    Niles looks at me a moment, then straightens his lips and casts his eyes up to my ceiling. He stares up there for ages, as though magical instructions for answering a crazed fan’s question about your ex-girlfriend might be hiding amongst the terrible popcorn patterns. After an eternity, he drags his eyes back to me and says, “My and Robbyn’s relationship—or should I say dynamic —is pretty complex.”
    Complex, huh? What does that mean? Since his eyes immediately settle back onto his phone, it doesn’t seem like he’s going to offer much more information than that. All righty then. Strike a nerve, much?
    I walk to the kitchen to pour a glass of iced tea and, for the millionth time this morning, think about my desperate need for a shower. But will I actually hop in while he’s sitting in my living room? I would die if he saw me sans makeup. I already look like a wreck enough as it is.
    I gotta get him out of here and onto the trails so I can pull myself together. When I ask him if he plans to go running soon, he perks right up, asking if I’m sure I don’t want to go with him. Of course I do, but I don’t want to keel over in his presence, so I remind him of my hangover status and he nods in understanding. We agree to grab a quick bagel on the way to the trails, and I’ll drop him off and come back for him in an hour and a half. It’s impossible to get lost on the trails, and I pledge to take him to a more remote spot that will better ensure his anonymity. Good. This is all good.
    He heads to my bathroom to change (OMG, Niles Russell is taking his clothes off in my bathroom!) and saunters out wearing gym shorts that look like they’ll fall off and a tank top you could fit three more people into.
    “Dude.” I yank at the hem of his shirt. “You’re making the big bucks now. You should probably spring for some sleeker running clothes.”
    “Meh, clothes just get all sweaty. Who cares? These shoes, though? These sons of bitches cost me a mint.” He kicks his right foot out for my inspection, and it’s true. His shoes are terribly kickass.
    We walk past the girls’ bedroom on the way to the kitchen and even though the door is partially closed, he stops to peek in. I cringe, knowing what’s coming next.
    “Girls, huh? How old?”
    And there it is. The “kid” conversation. I knew it was bound to come up, even though I was totally hoping to avoid it. It seems weird admitting I have young kids with someone else when the book I wrote was so clearly not written from the Kallie the Mom side of my personality. But something about the wistful look on his face and the genuinely interested tone in his voice makes me feel like it’s okay. He’s not judging me. He’s legitimately curious. About me. About my life.
    “Um, Jillian’s seven and Alana is nine.” Before the words are even fully out of my mouth, my mind goes to them, picturing their little