His large hands caught me around the waist before I face-planted. "Whoa there," he laughed, pulling me upright to stand.

I let out a laugh that sounded like a donkey braying and grinned at him. A small group of people were standing off to the side, looking in my direction with smirks on their faces. I held back from flicking them off and flicked my wrist in the sharpest movement, hoping that my asshole wave made up for my lack of an obscene gesture. "Assholes," I muttered to myself before looking back up at my savior.

Tristan turned in the direction we had just walked in with his forehead furrowed. "What did you trip on?" he indicated with his head in the direction of the floor we'd just covered.

"Shut up," I groaned, slightly humiliated.

"Seriously, what did you trip over?" he insisted, laughing really loudly. Green eyes glittered in amusement at my flustered face.

"Don't you have somewhere to be, Robby Lingus?"

He smirked after composing himself. His hand wrapped around my forearm before squeezing. "Yes but don't change the subject." We started walking side by side toward the doors again. He leaned closer to me, "You liked what you heard, didn't you?"

I'm sure my face flushed a color only seen on fire trucks, and possibly lobsters, but I couldn't help the snort that slipped out of my nose again. With a sharp push, Tristan had one of the doors opened that led out to the main convention hall. He strode up next to me after I passed through the opened door careful to keep a short distance between us. I knew that standing next to him or holding his hand was out of the question because he was now in full-blown Robby mode, but that didn't mean I couldn't remind him that he brought me here with him and would leave with me in a little over an hour.

Over my shower that morning, I decided that I needed to get my shit together and support him through this. I tried to mentally prepare myself for what could potentially happen while at the convention. Some gonorrhea-infected sluts might try to kiss him or grab his bubble butt. Women with loose, flapping pussy lips that were capable of clapping would try to hug him and whisper suggestive things in his ears. I was going to try my best and be okay with it. It was just an act. I mean actors had to kiss other women on sets, right? Tristan was technically an actor, but in his case, his dick was the main attraction.

Ugh. I wanted to cry.

As I looked up at him, biting my lip to keep from sobbing out to the holy spirit that matched people together, I caught him looking down at me with the sweetest smile on his face. His beautiful, clear eyes were wide, and he looked so damn happy right then that suddenly all my insecurities went away. That smile was mine. It wasn't for anyone else, it was meant for me and caused by me.

Plus, didn't he just tell Walter that he quit for me? Me? Little, old Kat Berger that laughed like a man? I wanted to jump up and down then do the running man in joy. Tristan didn't say things just for the sake of using his vocal chords, so I knew it was true. I wanted to ask him about it but figured right then was not the right moment for that conversation.

Maybe later when he was using his tongue. Ha.

All of a sudden, a really ingenious idea formed in my head. I tugged at the sleeve of Tristan's v-neck t-shirt again. He leaned down and I brushed my bottom lip lightly against the shell of his ear. "I think you should meet my tongue later," I said in a throaty voice.

I heard him gulp from his spot next to me.

I wasn't really sure where exactly I was getting these brave words from, maybe Nikki was channeling a bit of herself into me for moral support. Maybe she wasn't. I knew that I wanted Tristan to think of me while he was stuck signing autographs for other women who found him just as attractive as I did. It might have been a little insecure of me to desire that, but I refused to think of it in that way.