“Dennis. I tried to talk to her afterward. She wouldn’t even give me the time of day, and now she’s coming with us on tour for six weeks? What happened?”
“Her editor made her an offer she couldn’t refuse?” He shrugs, his face giving away no more information than that.
“Doesn’t sound like her editor was the one making the offer.”
“Look, do you trust me or not?”
“You know I do, we all do.”
“Then trust me on this. This is going to be a good thing. I wouldn’t put the band in jeopardy.”
“And me?”
“I’m not your babysitter, Brad. Anyway, isn’t it time you sorted this mess out for good?”
He gives me a look that tells me that he thinks I should, whether I’ve realized it or not.
Six weeks. On tour with the girl who broke my fucking heart. Just when I was getting used to not having her in my life.
Brad
Eight Years Ago
The squealing feedback from the mic is lost amongst the sound blaring from the speakers. The music from our instruments engulfs everything in this balloon- and streamer-filled ballroom.
My bow is torn to shreds as I pull it back and forth over my strings. In the corner of my eye I can see the sweat streaming down Jez’s face as he takes the solo. His fingers strike like lightning over the fingerboard. Marius is spinning around on the spot, his nervous energy needing an outlet, his viola resting on his shoulder, waiting to be played. Sebastian shouts out to the crowd, waving his arms in the air and they follow. Me, I just take it all in. I could do this for the rest of my life.
Angus would be twirling around in his private school uniform if he could hear our strings-only rendition of “Highway to Hell” right now.
Taking advantage of my break as Jez blisses out, my eyes wash over the crowd. Familiar faces writhing and bouncing to our music, our farewell performance to our classmates. One last hurrah on the prom night stage to catapult us into our adult lives. We’ve learned so much about performing and music on this stage. About each other and what we can create together.
But for all the emotion between me and the other three standing just right near me, there is one more face I want to share this moment with.
Where is she?
I scan the dance floor from left to right, row by haphazard row. I see friends catching my eye and throwing me a wave, but I’m ignoring them. They’re all the wrong face.
Where is she?
“Do you see her?” I shout to Marius.
Without missing a beat, he gestures his head to the right of the room.
And there she is.
Arms raised over her head, eyes closed, completely lost to the moment, to the music. Dressed in a skintight white leather dress, she looks like an angel sent to tempt the most pious of men to fall. Even from here, I can see her tongue dart out to run over her dark red lips, moistening them, making them shine. I hardly need tempting; I’m ready to fall. To jump into her.
Every inch of my skin buzzes, remembering the feel of her body against mine last night. Her hands on my face, my arms wrapped around her. Our mouths, finally quiet long enough from our usual bickering to meet in an epic kiss. God, those lips. Those delectably supple and moist, pouty, gorgeous, lips.
And then she was gone.
Stopping the kiss as suddenly as it had started, she’d run out of there. Leaving me panting for her. For more.
“Let’s wrap it up, boys!” Seb calls over to us, reminding me I’m on stage.
I drag my eyes away for her to join in with my boys in our big finale. The crowd fills in where our instruments leave off, raising their hands and voices. “It’s a long way to the top if you wanna rock ‘n’ roll!” they sing as we go crazy, fingers and bows dancing a crazy jig over our strings.
With one final earsplitting note, it’s all over. The resulting sound is overwhelming as the music dies and the crowd of our friends and classmates continues to roar, almost deafening me. My bandmates run to the edge of the stage, bathing in the adoration. I, however, have other immediate plans.
As soon as I see Marius drop his viola, I throw him my violin and jump off the stage.
I know how tonight’s going to end, and it won’t be by her running away from me. I push through the crowd, even as they try to close in around me.
“Let me through guys, there’s someone I gotta see!” I yell, desperate to not waste another minute.
I push bodies aside until I finally get to her. She stops me in my tracks with a half smile playing on her lips. God, she’s divine. Her skin is radiant with the soft glisten of sweat from dancing, her cheeks glowing with a gently pink flush.
“Butter,” I say, her name sounding different than it did only one day ago.
“Brad,” she says, and then nothing more.
And for once I’m speechless. I can’t find the words to say what I want to, need to.
“Good show. One of your best,” she says. I nod in acknowledgment of her praise, but I don’t want to talk about the band.
“Y-You look amazing.”
“Um, thanks.” She wraps her arms around her body, as if trying to hide it. And all I want to do is rip them from her, along with every trace of material, jewelry, anything that hides any part of her from me.
“About last night…” I start.
She holds up a hand, stopping me. “Yes, about last night. You were drunk, so let’s just forget it ever happened.”
“No.” I shake my head and take a step forward.
“Brad.” She holds her hand out, stopping me from coming closer.
“No, Butter,” I say, taking deep breaths trying to remain calm, when all I want to do is drag her like a caveman back to my cave and make her moan with pleasure and want. “I’ve waited years for last night and now you want me to forget it? Are you crazy?”
“It shouldn’t have happened. I was upset about Silas… and I needed some comfort and you were there.”
“Stop it, Butter!”
“Stop what?”
“Making it less than it was! You came to me last night. Me! And we kissed. Us! Don’t tell me it didn’t meant anything.”
“It meant that… you are my best friend. And that’s what I needed last night. That’s all.” Her hand comes up to her throat, to stop the shaking of her voice.
“Bullshit.”
“Whatever. I stayed just to listen to your performance, and let you guys know you did a great job.” She notices my eyes watching her hands and she moves them behind her back, making her back arch, and her breasts curve tight against her leather dress, her nipples hard against the fabric. I almost moan out loud. Taking advantage of the pause in our argument, she twirls around on her stilettos and heads for the door.
“And you dressed the way you are because?” I call after her.
She stops, her back still turned to me.