Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88586 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 443(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
He stared out to sea and nodded. “Yes.”
My chuckle morphed into a full belly laugh when he joined in. “You’re funny. Genius, my ass.”
“I aim to entertain. Truthfully, I had issues with depression. I still do, but I manage it better now.”
“Oh. I didn’t know that,” I said lamely.
“It didn’t really hit until I was in my teens. The doctors said hormones were a factor. Makes sense. I’d never had issues with anxiety until then. I’d never felt blue either. Suddenly, I had days where all I wanted to do was play video games or sleep. Music changed that.
“My stepbrothers had guitars, but they didn’t know how to play. Listening to them was torture until Sam sprang for lessons. Then right before the famous holiday party, Aiden showed me what he learned. I asked if I could try and…let’s just say, I didn’t suck. I didn’t turn into Jimi Hendrix overnight, but it felt like a light went on. Two weeks later, I went to your party, saw a garage full of instruments, kissed a guy, and opened my entire universe. Whoosh! Mind blown.”
I snickered at his animated expression. “You’re a quick study.”
“More like obsessed. I picked up a guitar and I could…hear the notes form, like some kind of magic thread weaving a tapestry. Like I was a conduit to something bigger than me. I couldn’t not play. All day, all night. It’s all I wanted. I picked up other instruments too. I’m great on the bass and the piano and—”
“And you’re so humble too.”
“I’m not bragging. In a way, I’m…confessing. It’s not normal. I know it. And in the beginning, it was a lot of noise I couldn’t control. It was hard to hold conversations with music buzzing in my brain.”
“So you did drugs?”
“Yep. Lots of ’em. Until I woke up in an alley in a puddle of vomit with no wallet, and no memory of how I got there.”
I crumbled the foil wrapper as I studied his handsome profile. I had a hard time imagining Dec struggling with anything. He was so naturally gifted and self-possessed. Knowing he fought demons like everyone else made him seem more relatable. For some reason, I hated knowing he’d been in pain. I pushed the errant thought away.
“How are you now?”
“Great,” he replied glibly. “If you think about it, my job is my medicine. It literally keeps me sane. Music makes it possible for me to communicate rationally and organize my thoughts in lyrics and composition. It’s the best therapy out there.”
I nodded in wordless agreement. “Yeah, it is.”
Dec cocked his head curiously. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you think I’m kinda weird.” His jocular tone and waggling brows made me laugh.
“I do.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You’re a special weirdo.” The affectionate lilt in my voice surprised us both.
We stared at each other for a long moment. I couldn’t speak for Dec, but my head was all over the place. My band, my mom, Sebastian’s PR proposal…it had been a hell of a day. Sitting on a park bench, shooting the shit with Dec was the most relaxed I’d felt in ages. I stared at his mouth, then met his eyes. And just like that, humor gave way to desire.
It wasn’t the out of control flash of madness that drove our recent hookups. This felt different. More nuanced. It was as if I could see him clearly without the angry filter I’d erected between us. And I liked what I saw.
A lot.
I leaned in, tugged at his collar to pull him close…then I kissed him.
The connection was sweet and languid…a gentle press of lips, no tongue involved. I could have stayed glued to him like that for hours and not missed a beat. I liked his smell, his taste, and the way he sighed against my mouth.
Maybe this was a mistake. Of course, it was. It didn’t change the fact that I needed more.
I pulled back slightly to gauge his expression, tracing the slight indentation on his bottom lip. He licked my finger. That was sexier than it should have been. Fuck me. This was a bad idea, and I knew it, but…
“Come home with me,” I whispered, nibbling his lower lip.
“Is that smart?”
“No, it’s a terrible idea.”
Dec chuckled. “I guess that hasn’t stopped us yet.”
I braced myself for this to feel weird or wrong on the drive home, but it was so damn easy to be with him.
Dec kept up a steady stream of chatter. He talked about the weather, the color of the sky, the billboard advertisements along the freeway, peppering his commentary with telling adjectives. A fitful chill, an indigo sky, everyday life. I knew without asking that he was writing a song in his head. Maybe about us.
Later that night, I wondered if he’d include the part where we came together like hungry wolves, clawing at each other as we thrust and groaned in a feverish rhythm. I saw stars I didn’t know existed when my climax hit me. It made me greedy for more.