Love Song (Stage Dive 4.70) - Page 5

Nothing from him.

“In fact, I think it’s time I had my say,” I said. “So why didn’t you tell me?”

He turned his face away, the streetlights casting shadows on the sharp lines of his cheekbones and the shape of his lips. God, he was beautiful. Even in his exhausted, rundown state, I couldn’t help but stare, and my heart gave the most embarrassing lurch. Life would be so much simpler if I didn’t still swoon at the sight of him. At the thought of him. The more time passed, the more my head seemed to forget how aggravating he was in a thousand tiny everyday ways, but my heart still remembered perfectly what it had been like to fall for him.

“Three little words,” I said. “Can’t be that hard.”

“I don’t know,” he mumbled.

“Bullshit.”

“It was never the right time.”

“Oh, please.” My throat tightened, and my vision swam. Ugh. “You never loved me. Our relationship was convenient for you. A place to live and someone to do your laundry. I was just an easy—”

He hung his head. “Fuck’s sake. You have got to be kidding me.”

“What?”

“You and me, we were never convenient. And you and easy have nothing in common. Trust me on that one.”

“You utter douche canoe.”

“I worshipped the ground you walked on.”

“You grunted at me and called it a conversation. No wonder I missed the signs of your supposed adulation.” I ground my teeth together. “Just admit it already. The whole being in love with me thing is bullshit. It’s a PR stunt or a…a…”

“Are you crying?”

“No!”

“Jill.” He leaned closer, cupping my face in his big hand. His gaze went from curious to startled in under a second. “Jesus, you are.”

I pushed off his hand. “I am not crying, I’m just very angry at you, and it’s coming out in unexpected ways.”

“We’re here,” announced the bodyguard.

Sure enough, out on the sidewalk, a group of fans waited along with several photographers waving their cameras around. I wiped the tears off my face. Stupid emotions. Righteous fury was what I was feeling. Not pain and heartache. I got over Adam a long time ago with the aid of ice-cream, vodka, and my most excellent girl gang. Those three things trumped a male of the species any day of the week. It was just that smelling him and hearing him and seeing him again had me confused or something.

In all likelihood, I was crying due to his presence giving me horrific flashbacks. To such occasions as when I went to visit my parents for a week and came back to find the interior of the fridge somehow entirely covered in black mold. Or the time I came home from work to find the furniture rearranged into the sign of the anti-Christ in honor of Ozzy Osbourne. Perhaps even the memory of when he wrote a song for me on the living room wall in permanent marker. A love song, almost, but without actually going so far as the L-word, of course. Because…Adam.

Actually, I didn’t hate that particular memory. I might have even taken a photo of the wall before I invited the girls over to graffiti all over it. But I still very much hated him and should tell him as much. Right now.

“I hate you, and I’m perfectly fucking fine,” I sobbed. “I am so…so over you, Adam Dillon. S-so…”

“Goddammit,” he snarled, reaching for me.

Chapter Two

Everything seemed to happen at once. The bodyguard cleared a space outside and opened the car door. Adam snaked a hand around my waist and dragged me up against him and out of the vehicle. Lights flashed and people shouted. Basically, all hell broke loose. Again.

“What are you doing?” I whisper-screeched.

“I’m not leaving you like this. We’re going inside.” And that was that.

My feet barely touched the ground. In fact, they definitely didn’t due to my wrapping them around his waist. It just seemed safer since the man had gone insane and seemed determined to carry me off so we could continue our fight elsewhere. If he was so desperate to get cried on and yelled at, then I was certainly the girl to do it. Easy, as he carted me through the waiting crowd. With one hand on my ass, he used the other to cradle the back of my head, encouraging me to hide my face in his neck.

Excellent idea. How the hell did he tolerate people getting all up in his grill all of the time? Outside his home, for heaven’s sake.

Tags: Kylie Scott Stage Dive Book Series
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