Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series: Box Set 1

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Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series: Box Set 1 Page 44

by Charli B. Rose


  “You’re early,” I said as I spun on my heel and strode back to the trio of easels.

  “No, I’m not. I’m right on time. We need to hit the road in, like, thirty minutes if we’re going to get to your parents’ house on time.” A frown darkened his features briefly.

  “What?” I screeched, giving him my full attention. There was no way I’d heard him right. I hadn’t finished packing yet.

  “Sweetheart, it’s 11:30. Aren’t you supposed to go somewhere with your mom at 2:30?”

  I bolted down the hall, calling over my shoulder, “Yes. I totally lost track of the time.”

  Diving into my closet, I grabbed my half-packed suitcase and lugged it to the bed. Then I started yanking things out of my drawers and tossing them into my bag, not even bothering to fold anything. Hopefully, some of it actually matched. I didn’t have time to coordinate. Beckett leaned against the doorframe, watching my mad dash with a smirk on his face.

  “Where are your keys? I’ll go ahead and transfer my bag to your car while you finish up,” he finally said and stood up straight.

  “On the kitchen counter… I think.” I wracked my brain, trying to recall where I’d dropped them when I came in the other day. I couldn’t even remember when I last left my apartment. Hmmm…

  While I was gathering my toiletries, Beckett’s voice called from the kitchen, “I don’t see them.”

  “Um… Try my desk or the coffee table.” I kept shoving stuff in my bag. If I forgot anything, I’d get Mom to run by the store with me once I got there.

  A few moments passed before a triumphant “Eureka,” rang out. The sound of the front door closing echoed soon after.

  Once my toiletries were in my suitcase, I zipped it up and hauled it to the living room. From the kitchen, I grabbed my phone and charger. Depositing them in my purse, I hiked it up on my shoulder and slipped on my shoes. With my pinky, I lightly dabbed the portrait of my parents. When it wasn’t tacky to the touch, I deemed it safe to move. Carefully, I maneuvered it closer to the door. As I was turning off the lights, Beckett came back in.

  “I’m ready. I left my dress and shoes for the party at my parents’ last time. I think I threw everything I need in my suitcase. If not, I’ll just go to the store there. My camera bag’s by the door. The painting’s ready. I have my phone, my charger and my Dramamine.” Mentally, I ran through any other items on my checklist.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

  The huge smirk on his face distracted me momentarily. He was such a handsome man. Maybe I should try to paint him. Maybe a portrait of him would have my old spark.

  “Izzy? Are you still with me?” He snapped his fingers in front of my face.

  “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking I should paint your portrait. You standing there with that larger than life smile and the sunlight reflecting in your eyes… You look so carefree and casual. You never look carefree. It’s a nice look on you. Your skin… Sorry, my artist brain is running amok this morning. Anyway, you asked if I was forgetting something. The answer’s no. I have everything.” I patted my purse hanging over my shoulder. Yep. Had everything essential.

  The chuckle that rumbled out of his chest was contagious. But I wasn’t sure what we were laughing at. He stepped over to me and slipped my purse from my shoulder and set it next to my suitcase. His strong hands ran the length of my arms.

  “Sweetheart, you’re wearing only a button up shirt that’s covered in paint with your sneakers. You have paint on your face and hands. And there’s a paintbrush holding up your hair. Are you sure you’re ready to leave?” His eyes were filled with laughter.

  Mortified, I tried to pull away from him, but he held tight. Beckett had never seen me this disheveled. I’d always made an effort to be put together whenever he came over. And every time we’d overnighted together, I always made it a point to wake up before him, so I could brush my hair and teeth and put on some light makeup. No wonder he’d sported a frown when I answered the door.

  “Crap. I’ve got to go take a shower and change. Sorry.” My fingers trailed down the front of my painting shirt, one I’d stolen from Dawson years ago. I was so flustered.

  “You know, you’re cute when you’re all addled,” he teased.

  “Hardy, har, har.” I smacked him on the chest and moved to my bedroom. “You could’ve clued me in a little sooner, then I’d be done showering by now.”

  “This way was more fun. Besides, I thought you’d have noticed your appearance while you were in the bathroom getting your stuff.” He trailed behind me, his hand on the small of my back.

  “Nope. One-track mind.” I flipped on the bathroom light and reached into the shower to turn on the water.

  “How about I help you get the paint off?” he offered in a seductive tone. His fingers plucked the paintbrush from my hair, letting the small coil of blonde hair unravel. “It’s been so long since we’ve been alone in the same place. Over a month. I’ve missed you. And you know your parents aren’t rooming us together.” His lips pressed against a clean spot on my jaw.

  “I know it’s been a while. But you said we were in a hurry,” my voice hitched as his tongue licked along my neck.

  “Text your mom when we get on the road. Tell her you got distracted. I’m sure after all these years, she’s used to you losing yourself in your art. Get her to push back the appointment.” As he talked, his fingers unbuttoned my shirt and slipped it from my shoulders.

  “Mm’kay,” I breathed as he kneeled down to slip my shoes and panties off me. With one finger, he traced the butterfly tattoo on my hip. “But we should probably still hurry.”

  Quickly, he grabbed his wallet from his pants, then undressed. “It won’t take me long.”

  I climbed into the shower, trying to mask my disappointment. I’d expected him to argue with me about the time. Protest that we’d make time. The couple of times we’d utilized our video calls to share intimacy in the past week or so, he’d seemed desperate for me, in any way he could have me — even long distance. So, his statement just now made me a little sad. I thought he’d want to treasure our time. Make it last until next time.

  While the circumstances called for quick, a nagging voice inside of me said we needed more. We needed to reconnect. Hell, connect differently. Better. Something. Part of me felt like I needed to strengthen our bond. We weren’t in the place I needed us to be for me to actually consider moving in with him.

  I wondered if the weakness I felt in our relationship was due to the lack of physical intimacy. And truth be told, I hadn’t really missed it. Hadn’t ached for it. Not like I used to before…

  Before my life went to hell. I wasn’t sure if my illness and the treatments had changed me or if having my heart broken was the pivot point. But this weekend, I was going to have to tell Beckett I wasn’t ready to live with him yet. And I didn’t know what that would mean for us. Would it be the beginning of our end?

  His touch tenderly rubbing the paint off my cheek brought me out of the whirlpool of my thoughts. “There,” he whispered and pressed a kiss to my cheek. “All clean and perfect.”

  As his lips moved to mine, his slippery fingers ran over my torso, warming my skin and generating a pleasant buzz beneath the surface. Soapy hands cleaned, then dirtied and got me off in a span of minutes. Then he hoisted me up and linked our bodies. I watched as he closed his eyes and lost himself to the pleasure he quickly found in me.

  When he set me back on my feet, he shut off the water and tossed me a towel. “Now I remember why I prefer sex in a bed,” he said with a chuckle.

  I had no response. I’d always enjoyed shower sex with…

  Nope, not going there.

  Leaning over, I rubbed the fabric over my hair briskly. The soft sound of terrycloth against skin was the only sound in the steamy bathroom. From the corner of my eye, I watched him. The whole scene was a level of intimacy we’d never had before. The white fabric stood out starkly against his sand-colored flesh. A swift swipe of t
he towel over his head easily dried his super short, dark hair. Pulling his jeans on, his eyes met mine.

  “Why are you staring at me?”

  I shrugged and answered, “I was just imagining what you’d look like if you let your hair grow out.”

  “Uh-uh. Not gonna happen.” He shook his head, then grabbed his shirt from the floor. “If my hair gets much longer than this, it gets curly and kinky. Courtesy of my mom’s genetics. Makes people not take me seriously enough.”

  “Don’t have a coronary, Doctor. I was just wondering.”

  I bent down to dry off my legs. Stepping behind me, he curled his body over mine and pressed a kiss to the base of my neck.

  “Hurry up. We have to go.” With that he strode out of the bathroom. “I’m going to put your bags in the car.”

  Shaking my head, I finished drying off. He hadn’t even tried to cop a feel when he was draped over me. I could’ve been persuaded into round two. Maybe.

  I was feeling all kinds of weird. Probably because every night as I tried to drift off to sleep, I’d been trying to imagine living with Beckett. Being in his life permanently. I was very conflicted about it. Running a brush through my hair, I examined my reflection in the mirror to make sure all the paint was gone. He’d done a good job.

  Satisfied, I moved to my room and was gathering a clean set of clothes when Beckett made his way back in. I donned a pair of purple undies and matching bra. For a brief moment, he took in my scantily covered form.

  “Where do you want to put the portrait?” He strolled over and touched his lips to mine.

  “Umm…” I shimmied into my skinny jeans. “Will it lay on top of our suitcases in the trunk?”

  “I think so. I’ll put it in and wait for you in the car.” He spun on his heel and headed out of my room.

  “I’ll be right out,” I mumbled at his retreating back.

  Five minutes later, I locked up the front door and made my way down to my car. As I leaned inside the passenger door, I said, “Pop the trunk so I can make sure the painting isn’t going to shift too much.”

  After shifting it a tad, I was certain it wouldn’t move in a detrimental way. “OK. I’m ready,” I said with a sigh as I slid into my seat.

  Beckett waited for me to buckle up before he shifted the car into reverse and set us on our way. “Did you take your pill?”

  “Not yet. But I will in just a second.” I leaned forward and adjusted the radio to Beckett’s favorite station, since the radio would be his only company once I passed out.

  “I didn’t get to tell you, but the painting of your parents is really good.” He turned to look at me for a second, then looked back at the road.

  “Thanks. I didn’t actually finish it until this morning,” I admitted.

  “So, that’s why you had paint on you when I arrived.” His eyes crinkled as he grinned at me.

  “Yes. And I’m sorry about that. I know you like to keep to your schedule,” I apologized as I dug my phone and my motion sickness pill out of my purse.

  “I’ll forgive you this time since I got a few minutes of quality time with you out of the deal. Speaking of being late, don’t forget to text your mom.” He directed his attention back to the road.

  “On it.” I tapped away, letting Mom know we were slightly behind schedule. Opening my water bottle, I washed down my magic pill and prepared for the drowsiness to take over.

  Not even five minutes down the road, my eyes started drifting shut. “Do you remember how to get to my parents’? My Dramamine is kicking in.”

  “I remember, babe. You take a nap now. I’ll wake you when we get there.” His hand squeezed my knee for a brief moment before returning to the proper position on the steering wheel.

  “Thanks, babe.”

  As my mind started to float to oblivion, the radio announcer caught my attention. “Hey, all you Loyals. We don’t have official confirmation just yet, but we have it on good authority that Lyrical Odyssey will be doing three special shows in the coming weeks. One of them will be within our listening area. We’ll keep you posted.”

  My head was too fuzzy to process the words that may have only been part of a dream anyway.

  When I woke up later, Beckett was pulling into my parents’ neighborhood. “Welcome back,” he greeted me when he saw me stirring in the passenger seat.

  “You remembered the way.”

  “Yep.” He parked in the driveway.

  Before we could even get out of the car, my mom was rushing down the steps to greet me. “Don’t open the trunk while she’s out here,” I muttered under my breath.

  “Huh?” Beckett asked, confused.

  “The painting’s a surprise,” I whispered behind my hand.

  “Oh, right.” A sheepish look crossed his face.

  I got out and enveloped my mom in a hug. “Sorry we’re late.”

  “No worries. Let me help you get your stuff inside, then we can go.” She moved to the backdoor of the car.

  “I’ll get our suitcases, sweetheart. You just grab your purse and your camera.”

  “Thank you,” I mouthed at him as I reached into the backseat to grab my camera bag.

  Linking arms with Mom, we went into the house while Beckett wrestled our bags out of the trunk. Moments later, he entered the house. “Should I take our bags to where we stayed last time?” he asked.

  “That’d be lovely, dear.” Mom patted his cheek affectionately before turning back to me.

  I smirked at him behind Mom’s back. When Beckett returned moments later, I asked Mom, “Where’s Daddy?”

  “Out back.” She motioned to the backyard. “He’s hoping Beckett will go with him to pick up food for dinner.” She cast her eyes up at Beckett, where he stood with his arms looped around my waist.

  “Absolutely. And where are you ladies off to?” He squeezed my torso in a backwards hug.

  “We’re going to pick up the flowers and go make sure the venue is set up,” Mom chimed in.

  Beckett pressed a kiss to the top of my head, then headed out the backdoor to find my dad. “Ready?” Mom asked as she handed me her folder full of party info.

  “Yes.” And with that, we were off.

  As Mom drove to the florist, I opened the folder to see a list of names. “Is this the list of everyone who’s coming?” My finger tracked down the list to see who I recognized.

  Mom glanced over briefly. “Everyone who RSVPed, at least. There are always a few who don’t answer. But the more the merrier.”

  My eyes scrolled down the list. “Brittany’s coming?”

  “Yes. She’s visiting her parents this weekend too. So, I thought it would be nice for you two to catch up.”

  “Thanks.” It had been a while since I’d seen her. Not since I was home recovering from surgery a couple years ago.

  “Mr. Anderson is bringing his new girlfriend?” I asked in astonishment. Dawson’s dad hadn’t ever gotten really serious about anyone after the divorce. But it was time for him to settle down again in my opinion.

  “Yes. Kimberly’s really nice. I think you’ll like her.”

  My breath hung up in my throat as I continued to read down the list. Dawson + 1 was scribbled near the bottom.

  “Dawson’s coming?” I squeaked out.

  Songs of the Heart

  Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series Book 3

  Copyright © 2019. Charli B. Rose.

  First Edition. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  The aut
hor acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products referred to in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication / use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  The lyrics to the song “The Difference” were used with permission by Tyler Rich, singer/songwriter.

  charlirosewriter.wixsite.com/website

  Cover design by Susan Garwood

  Cover photo edit by Elora Kiefer

  Cover photographer by svetikd photography

  Edited by Silvia Curry & Nathanie Serrano

  Interior Formatting by The Side Hustle

  Always to my boys,

  who put the song in my heart.

  I love you both so much.

  Life is a song. Love is the music.

  ~ Wisdom Quotes Community

  About the Book

  Sometimes love’s song needs rewinding.

  Izzy

  Best friends to soul mates to … nothing. Since we were six, Dawson was the most important person in my life. He was my first everything. First friend, first boyfriend, first kiss, first love, first heartbreak. For years our love was a masterpiece. Then two years ago, he ghosted me. Now my world is grey. I’m finally trying to start over, to add muted colors back. Beckett has helped let the light back in. And he’s ready to paint our future. But I’m not sure if I can give it to him, even if I owe him. Every time I consider moving forward my heart starts singing a familiar tune.

  Dawson

  Now I know why they call it falling in love. The splat at the end. I should’ve known better than to fall for my best friend. Because now I’ve lost my love, my friend and the inspiration for every song I ever wrote. I know the truth now about how it all ended, and I long to fix it. But there’s a new man in her life. A good man. One who hasn’t broken her heart and doesn’t put her at risk by just being around. My head says I should love her enough to walk away. Too bad we don’t love with our brains.

 

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