He could take the first kiss. They hadn’t discussed a rule about who initiated it. Warming his lips up on her neck made her sigh and settle more heavily in his arms. He was tense with the wanting of it, but it would be more of a victory if Evie offered.
“Where are we going, wild thing?” he said into her skin. Anywhere, anywhere with her. He would find a way. Maybe she knew it, she was humming a tune. It wasn’t a lip lock but it was equally magical.
“You can fly without wings and fear on your side. You can die without fear and fame along for the ride. Not cool, that power. Only pure hearts in flower. Out of control on the hour. You can fly without wings if they,” she laughed. “I’m stuck.”
“Conspire,” he said.
She turned sideways and traced a finger over his lips. “That’s it. Artists and fans conspire together. It’s a grand plot, a big love fest, especially at a show like this.”
Exactly the reason he still got nervous. Performers had a contract with fans to deliver to their expectations but none of that was clearly written down or fixed in a foolproof way that you could plan for. It was a colossal mystery how he’d come this far, and it was an iron weight in the knowledge that it could end at any moment with a bang or slow leak that no one would ever find to plug. If he had to choose what was most important to him, his rock star life or the woman in his lap, it was no contest. He’d made the wrong choice once, he wouldn’t do that again.
“You’ve got songs in you, Evie.” He ignored the vibrating phone in his pocket and ran his nose up her cheek and kissed her temple. Those sickening nerves were waiting, plotting, but he didn’t feel them now and maybe with Evie around it wouldn’t be so bad. “That’s where it all starts.”
“It’s being around you.”
Now she’d do it. Finally, an epic lip symphony. His phone stopped. “They were always there. You hoarded them.” And started again. “Hey, I want you to know that I’m going to get stuck in my head until we play that first gig, but I want you with me.”
She took his face in her hands and oh man, her expression was sunlit beach and crystal-clear waters, and he could fly without wings.
“You’re vibrating,” she said.
All over.
“Jay, your phone.”
Jesus suffering fuck. “Ignore it.”
She kissed the tip of his nose and when she climbed off his lap he learned that disappointment tasted like rusty metal. “We have time. I’ll see you tonight,” she said.
It’d be unprofessional to focus on her arse as she took the stairs. Useful that he could multitask. He took the call and when it was done, he found Evie had sent him a cool photo of her and the guys on stage.
She looked like she belonged there.
SEVENTEEN
Everything that could go wrong at the technical rehearsal went wrong. Evie had only meant to stop by for some extra social content but as her brothers struggled to get it together and Errol’s frustration hit boiling point, she hung around for moral support.
At least she felt better. The headache that she’d tried to cure with a donut wasn’t fooled by sugar and made her miserable last night. Jay had tempted her with plain food she could stomach and put her to bed. Talk about bad timing. No one got any kisses that weren’t parental in nature and Jay was gone before she woke.
From backstage, she could hear World’s End having the same kinds of problems Lost Property had. It was all to do with a fault in the stage monitor system that allowed the band to hear themselves play.
She sat by the refreshment table and worked. She didn’t need to be here, but she was desperate for a chance to see Jay.
You’re pathetic when you’re in love.
There was no denying that’s what this was, all over again. After kisses came confession and then she’d see what the deep squishy inside of pathetic really looked like if Jay balked. From the way he looked at her, looked out for her, and everything he’d already said, that felt like the remotest possibility.
Cocky much.
She was happy too, not that she’d been screamingly unhappy, but she’d been restless, always moving, not thinking about anything outside work too hard and deliberately avoiding relationships that might ask anything of her. Probably wasn’t a good way to live long-term.
Since the Grumpy Fiddler, all she’d wanted was to know Jay was close by. That alone had been a weighted blanket over her restlessness and she had no other explanation for why she’d just scribbled lyrics on the lid of a coffee cup.
She was sliding the lid into her messenger bag when Jay appeared. He almost walked straight past her, following the other members of the band. He looked like he could do with a weighted blanket.
He caught sight of her and backtracked. Going to the fridge and taking out a coke.