Raveling You
Page 27
“Oh, I thought of a name for our band.” She stands up straight, tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, and then her brows dip. “Wait. Were you just checking out my ass?”
I shrug, staring at my guitar. “Maybe.”
She laughs as she plops down beside me. “I so just busted you.”
“Well, I wouldn’t call it busting me since you willingly stripped down in front of me in the car. I’ve seen pretty much everything already.”
She teasingly bumps her shoulder into mine. “Are you trying to flirt with me right now, Shy Boy?”
“Maybe a little.”
She sweeps my hair out of my face. “You’re so adorable.”
I restrain a smile. “You do realize guys don’t like being called adorable, right?”
“Yeah, right. You totally love that I do. Love that I give you little nicknames that no one else gets. Admit it.”
“No way am I giving you that much power over me.”
She grins wickedly. “Oh, yes you will.” She tickles my side and my pulse soars erratically. “Because you love giving me what I want.”
“True,” I easily admit.
Her lips part to speak, but the buzz of her phone interrupts her. She scoops it up from the Sage’s stool, reads the message, and frowns.
“Who is it?” I set my guitar down on the floor.
“My dad.” She texts something back then sets the phone down on the cushion next to her. “He was wondering where I was, like he doesn’t know. I’m at the same place I am every Friday night.”
“Are you two still fighting over the club thing?”
“That and the fact that he and my mom think I’m bipolar.”
“I’m sure they don’t really think you are. They just worry about you.”
“Yeah, but instead of whispering about it behind my back, they should have told me.” She reclines back on the sofa. “All my life, I’ve been taught to just say things how they are, not to hold things in or keep secrets. I was taught to be honest even when it is hard. They should be the same way with me.”
“I know. I’m not saying what they did wasn’t wrong.” I relax beside her. “But don’t be mad at them forever, especially when they care so much about you.”
“I won’t, at least over the bipolar thing. The band thing, on the other hand…” She faces me, bringing her leg up onto the cushion and tucking it under her ass. “I just really wish he’d give us a chance, you know? I’m starting to wonder if he has confidence in my talent at all. Maybe this whole concern for my mental stability is an excuse.”
“I’m sure that’s not what it is. He knows how talented you are,” I assure her. “He’s probably just worried about you entering that life. He does know firsthand how intense it is to be a rock star.”
“I’m not trying to be a rock star to get famous.” She flops her head back and stares at the ceiling. “I just want to perform onstage and share my art with people who want to listen.”
“You’re too beautiful for your own good.”
“So are you.”
We stare at each other until the heat of the moment becomes too much.
Looking away, I collect my guitar from the floor. “Lyric, we will get to perform. Even if it’s not at your father’s club opening; we’ll get our chance one day.”
“I know we will. I just wish it were sooner. You know how impatient I can be.”
“Yes, I do,” I agree, positioning the guitar on my lap.
She narrows her eyes at me, but then laughs. “I’m just anxious. That’s all. No biggie.”
“Anxious about what?”
Her attention drifts to the wall covered in albums. “I don’t know. Stuff.”
“Lyric Scott.” I splay my fingers across her cheek and force her to look at me. “What’s going on?”
“Did you just last name me?” She elevates her brows accusingly.
“Call it payback for all those times you’ve called me Shy Boy and dude. Now, fess up. What’s going on? I can tell something’s bothering you.”
“I’m just worried that I might not have it in me, and then all of this,” she gestures around the garage covered with albums, instruments, amps, and ashtrays, “will just have been a waste of my time.”
“You do have it in you. Your voice, it’s…” I don’t even know how to describe the sound of Lyric singing. The sultry tone of her voice is almost unreal. “It’s unearthly. Unreal. Beautiful.”
A grin curves at her lips. “Unearthly? Wow, that’s poetic. If I didn’t know any better, I’d guess you were trying to flirt with me again.”
I give a half shrug. “I’m just being truthful.”
Her green eyes bore into me, and desire pulsates through my veins, desire I’m terrified to act on.
Just grab her and kiss her.
Crush your lips to hers.
Drink her soul
And give her yours.
“I know you are,” she says. “And it’s not a lack of confidence in my ability that I’m worried about. It’s my confidence in my ability to perform in front of people other than you, Sage, and Nolan.”
“You’ll be fine, and I’ll be there to help you.”
“I know you will.” Her grin broadens as she shifts her body toward mine, nearly bursting with excitement. “You should just start singing duets with me. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about being up on stage, singing solo.”
I shrug, staring at my guitar. “Maybe.”
She laughs as she plops down beside me. “I so just busted you.”
“Well, I wouldn’t call it busting me since you willingly stripped down in front of me in the car. I’ve seen pretty much everything already.”
She teasingly bumps her shoulder into mine. “Are you trying to flirt with me right now, Shy Boy?”
“Maybe a little.”
She sweeps my hair out of my face. “You’re so adorable.”
I restrain a smile. “You do realize guys don’t like being called adorable, right?”
“Yeah, right. You totally love that I do. Love that I give you little nicknames that no one else gets. Admit it.”
“No way am I giving you that much power over me.”
She grins wickedly. “Oh, yes you will.” She tickles my side and my pulse soars erratically. “Because you love giving me what I want.”
“True,” I easily admit.
Her lips part to speak, but the buzz of her phone interrupts her. She scoops it up from the Sage’s stool, reads the message, and frowns.
“Who is it?” I set my guitar down on the floor.
“My dad.” She texts something back then sets the phone down on the cushion next to her. “He was wondering where I was, like he doesn’t know. I’m at the same place I am every Friday night.”
“Are you two still fighting over the club thing?”
“That and the fact that he and my mom think I’m bipolar.”
“I’m sure they don’t really think you are. They just worry about you.”
“Yeah, but instead of whispering about it behind my back, they should have told me.” She reclines back on the sofa. “All my life, I’ve been taught to just say things how they are, not to hold things in or keep secrets. I was taught to be honest even when it is hard. They should be the same way with me.”
“I know. I’m not saying what they did wasn’t wrong.” I relax beside her. “But don’t be mad at them forever, especially when they care so much about you.”
“I won’t, at least over the bipolar thing. The band thing, on the other hand…” She faces me, bringing her leg up onto the cushion and tucking it under her ass. “I just really wish he’d give us a chance, you know? I’m starting to wonder if he has confidence in my talent at all. Maybe this whole concern for my mental stability is an excuse.”
“I’m sure that’s not what it is. He knows how talented you are,” I assure her. “He’s probably just worried about you entering that life. He does know firsthand how intense it is to be a rock star.”
“I’m not trying to be a rock star to get famous.” She flops her head back and stares at the ceiling. “I just want to perform onstage and share my art with people who want to listen.”
“You’re too beautiful for your own good.”
“So are you.”
We stare at each other until the heat of the moment becomes too much.
Looking away, I collect my guitar from the floor. “Lyric, we will get to perform. Even if it’s not at your father’s club opening; we’ll get our chance one day.”
“I know we will. I just wish it were sooner. You know how impatient I can be.”
“Yes, I do,” I agree, positioning the guitar on my lap.
She narrows her eyes at me, but then laughs. “I’m just anxious. That’s all. No biggie.”
“Anxious about what?”
Her attention drifts to the wall covered in albums. “I don’t know. Stuff.”
“Lyric Scott.” I splay my fingers across her cheek and force her to look at me. “What’s going on?”
“Did you just last name me?” She elevates her brows accusingly.
“Call it payback for all those times you’ve called me Shy Boy and dude. Now, fess up. What’s going on? I can tell something’s bothering you.”
“I’m just worried that I might not have it in me, and then all of this,” she gestures around the garage covered with albums, instruments, amps, and ashtrays, “will just have been a waste of my time.”
“You do have it in you. Your voice, it’s…” I don’t even know how to describe the sound of Lyric singing. The sultry tone of her voice is almost unreal. “It’s unearthly. Unreal. Beautiful.”
A grin curves at her lips. “Unearthly? Wow, that’s poetic. If I didn’t know any better, I’d guess you were trying to flirt with me again.”
I give a half shrug. “I’m just being truthful.”
Her green eyes bore into me, and desire pulsates through my veins, desire I’m terrified to act on.
Just grab her and kiss her.
Crush your lips to hers.
Drink her soul
And give her yours.
“I know you are,” she says. “And it’s not a lack of confidence in my ability that I’m worried about. It’s my confidence in my ability to perform in front of people other than you, Sage, and Nolan.”
“You’ll be fine, and I’ll be there to help you.”
“I know you will.” Her grin broadens as she shifts her body toward mine, nearly bursting with excitement. “You should just start singing duets with me. Then I wouldn’t have to worry about being up on stage, singing solo.”
