I probably wasn’t the best judge of my own creation, but it sounded awesome. Lyrics floated. Hastily, I jotted them down. Excitement flooded my veins. I’d never written a song before. I’d only helped tweak them before. The high of the adrenaline rush made me want to play some more.
“Hey, dude!” Jett called out as he came down the stairs.
“Hey, man,” I answered back, stilling my fingers.
“What was that you were playing?” Maddox asked from behind Jett.
“Just something that’s been whirling around in my head for a while now.” I leaned over to peer behind the guys, looking for Wilder.
“It’s just us, B. We messaged you and Wilder both. You, of course, didn’t answer. But Wilder texted back to say he was busy,” Maddox explained.
“But the three of us can jam,” Jett said.
“And you can show us your song,” Maddox enthused.
After I played the song through once, Jett started pounding a rhythm. It added a new depth to the music, making it sound even better than it had in my mind.
Maddox added a few series of notes on the keyboard here and there, but overall, he seemed pretty distracted.
“You got lyrics?” Jett asked.
“I’ve got a few ideas, but I’m not ready to share them yet,” I admitted.
“I understand. Whenever you’re ready, we can’t wait to hear. Right, Mad?” Jett asked.
“Huh? What did you say?” Maddox asked.
“I said whenever Brooks was ready to share his lyrics with us, we can’t wait to hear them,” Jett said, looking at him curiously.
“Yeah. Of course. Sorry, I haven’t been paying much attention. Got a lot on my mind,” Maddox said.
“Want to talk about it?” I asked. I’d happily listen to someone else’s problems over mine for a while.
“Nah. It’s nothing major. Just … stuff,” Maddox said vaguely.
“How about we jam some more? Take your mind off things,” I suggested. Maybe it would work a little longer for me too.
I grabbed my bass and hit the first notes to a song we’d played so many times in Dawson’s garage years ago. Maddox set the keyboard to play keys and added the appropriate drum mix while Jett strapped on the guitar I’d just set aside.
By the time we hit the chorus, we were all shouting the lyrics to “Gives You Hell”.
♪ Gives You Hell by All American Rejects
My spirits lifted the longer we played. It felt odd to play without Dawson and Wilder, but they weren’t here, and we were doing what we needed to do.
We played a while longer. When we finally stopped, sweat dampened my hair, and I was exhausted.
“I’m starving. We should go grab some dinner. We can see if Wilder wants to join us,” Jett suggested, setting the guitar on its stand.
“I’m down for that. How about Mexican? I could go for enchiladas right about now,” Maddox said eagerly.
“You guys go ahead. I want to work on my song a little more.” An idea had hit me while we were jamming, and I was anxious to try it. I was already lost in the song as they waved goodbye.
Once the door at the top of the stairs closed, I strapped the guitar on again and let my fingers find the new notes.
There. That was perfect. I jotted the series of notes down with a satisfied smile on my face.
Now to go find food. My stomach growled in agreement. With my bass on my back, I bounded up the stairs and opened the door.
“Eeeek,” Britt shrieked when I stepped through the door. Her hands were pressed to her chest as she tried to catch her breath.
“Brooks, you scared the crap out of me. What are you doing here?” She brushed her hands against her flowing skirt.
“Playing in the studio downstairs,” I said, pointing down the stairs.
“I didn’t hear you,” she answered with a frown.
“It’s soundproof.” I winked.
“Of course it is.” She shook her head. “So … good session?” She shuffled her feet nervously.
“Great actually. I only stopped because I was about to pass out from hunger. I got lost in the music and forgot to eat all day.” I leaned my shoulder against the wall.
“That happens to me all the time when I’m dancing,” she said with a laugh. Her fingers slid some pendant along a chain around her delicate neck.
“Speaking of, congratulations on Rico’s music video.” I stood up straight, shifting my bass higher up on my shoulder.
Her eyes went wide. “Thanks. How’d you know? I haven’t told anyone yet.”
I tipped my chin, considering her words. “I saw it on Instagram. Dub tagged you.”
“Oh. I didn’t even think about that.” She wrapped her arms around her back and rocked on her feet. The move pulled her sparkly, off-the-shoulder blouse tight across her breasts.
My gaze lingered long enough for her nipples to pebble beneath my stare. She cleared her throat, dragging my stare back up to her flushed cheeks. I stepped forward until we were toe to toe. Then I cupped her cheek. The draw to her was irresistible. Like a paperclip being pulled to an industrial sized electromagnet, I moved. Our lips were a hairsbreadth apart.
“So, you want to go grab some dinner and hang out?” I asked.
She exhaled against my face. Her hand rested on top of mine as her eyes dropped closed in resignation. “I’m sorry. I can’t tonight. Wilder’s on his way to pick me up for dinner.” She stared up at me intently, searching my face.
Her words were like a bucket of ice water. I dropped my hand and shuffled back, forcing my expression to remain neutral. Of course, that was why she was dressed up. She had a date.
With Wilder. I swallowed hard. “That’s cool. I understand. Have fun. I’ll catch you later.” I spun on my heel and strode out the door before I did something stupid, like punch the wall and scream or kiss her senseless and beg her to stay.
Her goodbye rang out softly behind me.
♪ Stay by Shakespears Sister
Chapter 11
Britt
“Bye, Brooks,” I called sadly as he walked away.
Again.
Why was he always leaving?
And why was I always left feeling confused by that?
♪ Farewell by Rihanna
I’d spent the whole week expecting to hear from him, waiting for him to drop by. And lying to myself about wanting him to. When he finally did, I was going out. Served him right.
The happiness I’d felt over a great week of dancing had soared when Brooks had shown up. It then quickly deflated once I realized I wasn’t able to spend time with him. Not just because I wanted him or had missed him, but because he looked like he could really use a friend. Sadly, I couldn’t be his friend right now because he left, and Wilder would be here soon.
My phone chimed with a new text.
Wilder: Be there soon. You ready, brown-eyed girl?
I could cancel with Wilder and call Brooks back. As I considered it, another message popped up. If Brooks came back, I could share my dance news with him. Tell him that I’d turned down the preschool job offer back home so I could really try to make a go of a career in dancing. Maybe show him the final cut of Rico’s music video.
And I could find out why his eyes were so sad. I started tapping out a message to Wilder. Before I could hit send, my phone buzzed again.
Wilder: I’m so excited to try out that new restaurant I was telling you about.
Me: Awesome.
Wilder: I had to pull the rock star card to get us a table.
Me: SMH. I’m sure it’s not the first time.
Wilder: Who me?
Me: LOL.
I couldn’t cancel on him. I’d been stalling going to dinner with him for a week. It wasn’t very friendly of me. Besides, I really needed to start redrawing lines between me and Brooks. Crossing the ones I’d put in place after our first night together would only make things more difficult when the time came for me to forget about him. And that time was inevitable.
>
The doorbell rang. I scooped up Lyric and gave her a kiss on the head before I put her in her crate. She whimpered when I shut the door and walked away. “I’ll be back soon, precious. Play with your bear while I’m gone.”
The door handle was cool in my palm when I tugged the door open to find Wilder dressed in black jeans and a collared shirt. The salmon color looked surprisingly amazing on him. A black leather jacket completed the look.
“You look amazing,” he said as his eyes ran over my body.
We rode the elevator up to the fifteenth floor. People waited outside the entrance to Perch. The restaurant was packed inside as well, but the hostess ushered us to a table right away, much to the annoyance of several people waiting in the lobby.
“I’m a huge fan,” she gushed as we followed her, weaving in and out of the tables until we arrived at a linen-covered one in the back corner. A vase of roses stood in the center. Tea light candles flickered, casting a romantic glow.
“Always great to meet a fan,” Wilder said and slid my chair out for me.
“Could you sign this for me?” She held out a notepad and pen.
Wilder shot me an apologetic look as he scrawled his signature on the page. Another person approached before the hostess left.
“Hi, I’m Trent, and I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll have whatever diet soda you have,” I said when Wilder tipped his head at me for me to go first.
“You sure you don’t wine or something?” Wilder asked.
“I’m sure.” I didn’t need the potential headache or the lowered inhibitions.
“I’ll have tea,” Wilder told the server, who scurried away.
I peeked around and saw a few other people who I was pretty sure were famous. But I didn’t let my gaze linger long enough to place any of them. I needed to play it cool.
I perused the menu, trying to figure out what I wanted. From the corner of my eye, I found Wilder staring at me. “What?” I asked, when I glanced up at him.
“Sorry. You’re just so captivating,” he admitted unabashedly.
I tipped my head back down to my menu, blushing under his compliment. Wilder lifted his menu, cutting the tension that was building between us. And I was finally able to inhale a full breath.
It seemed our server was hovering because as soon as Wilder laid his menu on the table, Trent was by our side. “What can I get you?”
Wilder glanced at me. “Want to try the baked brie as an appetizer?”
My gaze dropped to the description, and my stomach rumbled. “That sounds delicious.”
“We’ll start with that. Britt, do you know what you want for dinner?” Wilder peered at me attentively.
“I think I’ll try the boeuf bordelaise,” I said, handing over my menu.
“And I’ll have the filet, cooked medium, and instead of mushroom ragout, I’ll have the truffle cheese fries.” Wilder winked at me. “If you’re good, I’ll share them with you.”
After Trent strode away, Wilder said, “So, I hear you’re starring in a music video.”
“I wouldn’t say starring. But I am dancing in Rico’s upcoming music video. And no, I can’t give you any details,” I said, cutting off the questions I expected would follow. I still wanted to share it with Brooks first for some reason.
I sipped my soda, avoiding Wilder’s intense stare.
“So, you’ve spent your week at Gravity Dance Complex?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’m working on some other things for Dub’s agency. But Gravity is the most convenient place for me to meet and dance. Plus, I’ve been able to take a few classes. They’ve been phenomenal. So much more than what I was able to take back home.” I couldn’t keep the enthusiasm out of my voice. Dance wasn’t just a hobby for me. It was an extension of me. But no one in my life had ever understood that.
“That’s awesome. Dancing is so … freeing. For me, not as much as losing myself in my music. But moving to music definitely loosens something inside of me,” Wilder explained as Trent set our appetizer in front of us.
I helped myself to some of the creamy, cheesy goodness. While Wilder dished himself up some, I took a taste. A moan slipped out when it hit my taste buds. “This is so good,” I said with my hand in front of my mouth. “I’ve been eating salads and sandwiches pretty much all week. When I actually remember to eat, that is.”
Wilder chuckled. “When I’m playing, I forget to eat sometimes too.”
Must be a common theme with creative types since Brooks had also pretty much said the same thing earlier tonight.
Laughter and conversation flowed as we moved from appetizer to main course. The food was delicious. And I totally should’ve ordered the truffle cheese fries. As we were contemplating dessert, a feminine voice interrupted us.
“Wilder, it’s so good to see you,” the stunning woman exclaimed as she leaned down to wrap Wilder in a hug.
“Elle, nice to see you too.” He squeezed her back with one arm. His gaze shifted to me. “Brittany, this is Giselle. Elle, this is Brittany.”
I offered her my hand across the table as she eased herself down to sit next to Wilder. Her delicate fingers tipped in long, red nails clasped mine softly. After giving my hand a little shake, she let go. “Nice to meet you, Brittany. How do you know this guy?” She bumped her shoulder into Wilder’s. I took in her model-like features and tried to figure out where I’d seen her before. There was something so familiar about her. Her voice even triggered some vague recollection I couldn’t grasp.
“My best friend married Wilder’s bandmate,” I said.
“Ah, you’re Isabelle’s friend. I hate that I missed their wedding. I was stuck in Paris for a photo shoot and couldn’t get back in time. I’m sure it was absolutely beautiful,” Giselle said.
I pulled out my phone and showed her a picture of me and Izzy from after the ceremony. “It really was amazing, and Izzy was stunning,” I said with a smile, remembering the ceremony … and the reception. Heat flooded my body. I took my phone back.
As if thoughts of him were contagious, Giselle mentioned him. “So, what’s Brooks up to tonight?”
I remained silent while Wilder shrugged and said, “I don’t know. I haven’t really spoken to him much this week. We seem to keep missing each other.”
I frowned about that. The guys were great friends. What was going on with them?
“Hmmm. I saw him a few days ago and again last night at your old stomping grounds. It was good to catch up with him. We’re going to hang out sometime soon.” Giselle shifted in her seat to turn more fully to Wilder and planted her hand in the center of his chest. Her professionally manicured fingertips trailed down his torso. “And you know, if you’re ever interested in joining us again, I’d totally be down for that.” With her free hand, she fanned her face. “I get hot just remembering.”
Wilder cast his gaze at his empty plate on the table, not meeting my eyes or Giselle’s. The tips of his ears turned red.
There was definitely a story there. One I wasn’t sure I cared to hear more about. My dinner churned in my gut and threatened to rise up my throat.
“Anyway, I have to run. I’m meeting friends for drinks. It was good to see you, Wilder, and to meet you, Brittany. Have fun with this one.” She winked at me. “And be sure to tell Brooks I’ll be in touch.” Her hand dropped below the table. Wilder shifted his weight in his seat. Giselle’s voice dropped to a purr, “And definitely keep in mind my offer.”
With that, she gracefully stood. She flipped her long, silky hair over her shoulder and gave us a little wave before she sashayed away.
Silence hung heavily between me and Wilder. I sipped my watered-down soda. The joviality we had previously was gone.
“So … did you want dessert?” Wilder asked awkwardly.
Dabbing my mouth with my cloth napkin, I gave myself a moment before answering. “Nah. I’m good.” I was ready to leave. The visual Giselle had painted in my mind was ruining ev
erything. But it was still early. I didn’t really relish the idea of going home and spending the evening alone with the threesome picture she’d planted in my head.
“You know, I have a pint of rocky road back at my place. We could go back there and relax, eat from the carton and watch TV. Then, whenever you’re ready, I can take you home,” Wilder said with a hopeful look on his face.
I chewed my lip in contemplation for a moment. “Sure. Sounds like fun, but I’m not watching some action movie where everything gets blown up,” I said sternly and crossed my arms over my chest. “And I can’t stay out all night. I don’t know how long Lyric is good in the crate.”
“Deal.” Wilder tossed some bills on the table—more than enough to cover our evening and a nice tip for Trent. He unfolded himself from his seat and then held his hand out to help me up.
With his hand on the small of my back, Wilder ushered me out of the elevator and down the hall to the luxury apartment. I’d been holding my breath since we entered the building. Wilder told me on the way here that all the guys lived in the building except Dawson. Would we run into Brooks?
Did I want to?
I was technically here with Wilder. But only as friends. And I did want to share my news with Brooks. Plus, he looked so sad earlier. A part of me really wanted to see him.
When we reached the end of the hallway, the breath I’d been holding whooshed out. We didn’t run into anyone. As Wilder pushed the door open, I peeked inside, examining his space. The apartment was spacious. Hardwood floors stretched in front of me. Black and chrome with shades of blue seemed to be his décor preference. We stepped down into the living room, which had a large, black couch facing a huge TV. Several gaming consoles were arranged in the entertainment center. It was a typical bachelor pad but less messy than I had expected.
“I’ll grab the ice cream, you get Netflix going,” he said, handing me the remote.
I started scrolling through our options while Wilder disappeared into the connected kitchen.
Turn up the Tempo (Lyrical Odyssey Rock Star Series Book 4) Page 9