Read All The Pretty Lights (The "A" List #1) for Free Online Page A

“Yeah. It was fun.” I don’t know why a deep sense of evasion is growing deep. I don’t want to hear his words, hear him say the polite things before I never see him again. “Listen, I—I gotta go. I’m gonna be late.”
    I’m not going to be late. I’ve got nowhere to be. All I know is that I can’t stay here, putting off the inevitable, just waiting for him to walk away forever. Instead, I walk first.
    “Thanks, Colt. Good luck with your movie!” I call over my shoulder as he remains in his seat, dumbfounded.
    The tube-like corridor I walk through to the terminal vibrates slightly with all the footsteps. I hold my bag tighter and curse myself for feeling the way I do.
    He was just being nice.
    There’s no way this night could have meant anything to him. He won’t even remember my name by tomorrow, I tell myself.
    Following the crowd, we make a mass exodus into the main airport, passing security, with most people splintering off toward the baggage claim area. I’ve never flown this early in the day before, and I can’t help but notice how crowded the building is. It strikes me as odd that most of these people aren’t carrying suitcases. My eyes dart around from one to the next as I register that most of them are instead carrying cameras of some sort. Some, very expensive looking professional cameras, others television cameras.
    I suddenly feel uneasy and instinct tells me to get out of here.
    “There she is!” The crowd turns on a dime to where one photographer points. Directly to me.
    “It’s her!” They begin to move collectively as a group in towards me, and I take a blind step back, bumping into the person who passes behind me.
    My heart begins to racing, my eyes squinting tightly as the dozens of blinding lights cast onto me.
    “Daphne! Where’s Colt?” One feminine voice blindly asks out, only to be drowned out by another asking “How long have you two been dating?”
    The overhead lights must be powerful, strong, because they give off an intense heat that causes me to sweat.
    “Are you two serious?”
    “Will you be going to his premiere tonight?”
    “How did you two meet?”
    “Does it bother you that he dated Audrey Camden?”
    “Is he a good kisser?”
    “Does it bother you that everyone wants to see him get back together with Audrey?”
    “Was it your idea to give your seats up to the soldier and his wife?”
    Oh. My. God.
    The questions keep coming. The flashes keep bursting. The people keep moving closer, circling around me.
    My throat tightens. My chest feels heavy, unable to breath easily. I can’t see through the intense wall of light where to step, how to move away. I’ll be trampled over, buried under a crowd of reporters and paparazzi as they push against each other to get closer to me.
    My bag drops from my shoulder, dangling down by my wrist. I have no choice. I’ve got to run, I’ve got to get away.
    Just as I turn to sprint, a strong hand takes my bag as it threatens to fall from my grasp, and then takes my upper arm.
    “Miss Baker?” A monotone voice calls my name. My name! How do they know my name? “Miss Daphne Baker?” He repeats himself.
    I see dark, mirrored lenses reflecting my panicked state. His sunglasses watch me at least a foot and a half above, towering over me.
    “Uh—yes?” I don’t know him. He has no microphone, has no camera, so somehow it sets him apart from the dozens of people gathered round.
    “Please come with me, ma’am. I’ll see you home safely.”
    I don’t know why I should listen to him, why I should believe that he’s anything other than another one of these crazy people, but his tall, muscular build can definitely help break through the crowd to get me passed.
    “O—okay.” I give in. Somehow, over the buzz and loud questions of the gathered crowd, I hear this man speak into his sleeve as he raises his wrist to his mouth.
    Huh. Odd.
    Whatever. If he can get me out of here and away from these people, then I don’t