by Neve Wilder
“I murdered that song.”
“You did, oh shit. The way you tried to beatbox through the opening.” He put his hands over his face, his shoulders shaking.
I snickered. “You should’ve been there the night I did ‘Like A Virgin.’”
“You could do it right now?” Evan played the opening chords, brows hiking up in invitation.
“I’ll spare us both.”
“But you were good,” he said, sobering. “Are good.” He bit at the inside of his cheek, an action that hollowed out one side of his face and made his cheekbone stand out in stark relief—a tic of his I’d always found incredibly sexy. For fuck’s sake, he’d turned me into nothing but gooey caramel filling.
“You told me my arrangements were off and they were losing impact, but my pipes were good and my lyrics were amazing.” I’d remembered those words exactly. I’d known who Evan was back then. Everyone did. But we’d never spoken. He had a devoted following on the circuit and was known for being dry and serious. I’d had no idea why he was talking to me since I’d just started out. Evan ticked a look down to me as I added, “You were right. You usually are. It’s annoying.”
He blew out a breath, fiddling with the strap of his guitar, then raking a hand through his hair. “Not always.” He smeared his palms up and down his face, then just sat there like that for a minute, and a split second of fear rushed through me like water let out of a dam, sudden and all-encompassing. He was going to tell me something I didn’t want to hear, I was sure of it.
But he only smiled and shook his head. “You wreck my brain, you really do. And you drive me up the wall, and I know I do the same. But shit, I want you. I keep thinking about that. The past few days, it’s all I can think about. Can’t make sense of it. But I don’t want to stop this.”
It was a confession, not a dismissal, and though it lacked the three words I craved hearing from him, the naked look in his eyes was enough. I was straddling him in seconds, pushing the guitar out of the way, taking the strap over his head, and running my hands over him like they’d been itching to all day. He stilled them with his own.
“I don’t know what this means for our music. The publicity or whatever, but I’m willing to give it a shot. I kinda can’t… not.”
“We’ll figure it out,” I said, then hooked a finger under his jaw and kissed him.
His hands landed on my hips, squeezing tight, relaxing, then squeezing again before holding there, a kind of Morse code of desire that transmitted shivery joy all over me.
I peeled his clothes off slowly and kissed him everywhere, touched him everywhere. And when he was naked and sprawled, arching his body into my mouth and my hands, I held him down and straddled him, burying his slick cock inside me so slowly that old tufts of carpet caught in his nails from where he clawed it. I wanted all of him, every square inch of skin against mine. We gasped and rocked together, and when I yanked him upright, he wrapped his hands around my waist, licking and biting at my pulse while I whispered filthy combinations of word and sound that soared through him and bled out as heat in the cheek I cupped in my hand.
His orgasm caught me and pulled me under, and I rode the quake of his thighs and the pulse of his cock until I spilled against his abdomen. And I was certain, as I had never been of anything else in my life, that this was how we were meant to be.
Is there a certain song you’re most proud of?
Evan: They’re all like children in a way, I guess? Not that I’ve ever had any children.
Les: That you know of…
Evan: That, yeah. Shh. But personally? “Collide.”
Les: Oh wow. I thought you’d say “Blue” since it’s killing the charts.
Evan: Remember writing “Collide,” though? We started with one line.
Les: One measly line, yeah. That’s all I had.
Evan: And then we just went back and forth, handing off words and notes, just throwing stuff out there. That thing composed itself. We were just along for the ride.
Les: Yeahhhh. You’re totally right. And we came up with the same-sounding chorus at the same time. That was some eerie synergy.
Chapter 34
We slept in Evan’s bed that night, and the next morning was just sunlight and bird chirps, minus the territorial war still ongoing on my side of the cabin. I woke happy. So fucking happy. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d woken with a genuine sense of joy. Always there was this vague dread and pressure, and this morning there was only the warm scent of Evan’s skin at the nape of his neck where I buried my nose and fell back asleep.
He was gone when I woke again. Running, I figured. He’d already made coffee, so I whipped up some breakfast before going down into the basement to tool around for a while. I had one more song that had been in my head, and I thought we could tack it onto the album as a bonus download. It was called “Hard Ache,” and it was for him.
Push me pull me, I’m out of control…
I rapped my pen against the notebook, then scrawled the last verse.
“Something else?” Evan asked, appearing in the doorway, drying sweat from his hair with a towel. He was drenched and looked delicious, color high in his cheeks, blue eyes bright and awake, and wearing a grin that seemed tailor-made to get me hard.
“Maybe.” I gave him my best sly smile and laid my notebook over my lap.
“Do I need to be awake at 3:00 a.m. to hear it?”
“Nope, I’m saving it for the studio. You can hear it then.”
Evan wanted to get into the studio as soon as possible, while the energy was still fresh, so we’d agreed to take only a single week off to do nothing once we got back to Nashville in a couple of days before going into the studio. Of course, I’d let my imagination go wild concocting ways we could fill that downtime.
While Evan was in the shower, I called Byron and let him know we wanted the studio time, so he could set it up. I was still talking to him when Evan finished up and strolled down the hall with a towel wrapped loosely around his waist and his shoulders dewed with water droplets. His fucking body was going to be the death of me. He tilted his head at me, chin jutting to the phone in inquiry, so I put the call on speaker.
“Ev’s out here now,” I said.
“Porter. How goes? Les was just telling me the album’s in the bag and it’s good stuff. Got anything I can take a listen to?”
Evan glanced up at me to check before he said anything, and I nodded. I’d been known to be superstitious about letting people listen to the rough cuts we laid down prior to going into the studio.
“Can send some over in a little bit. You heard from Levi, lately?”
“Not in a couple of days. Itching to end this charade?” Byron chuckled.
“Um,” I said smartly, but Evan was on it.
“We’ll talk about it when we get back.”
“You don’t want to tell him?” I asked when Byron hung up.
Evan made a face and shrugged. “I don’t really know how to say it.”
“How to say you’re crazy for my cock-o-puffs?” I grinned.
He rolled his eyes and poked me hard in the chest when I reached for his towel. “Your contribution was an ‘um,’ wordsmith. Let’s go get lunch. I’m starving.”
We ate at Dora’s Kountry Kitchen, and I forgave her for the K because Dora was a sweet old gal who loved to tease me, and who also always gave me an extra-large serving of hash brown casserole. Evan and I had discovered the place the first time we stayed at the cabin, and though Evan turned his nose up at the grease-slathered everything, I ate there at least twice a week when we were in town.
Afterward, we strolled slowly back toward the public parking lot down the street, Evan grumbling about how full he was.
“You’re never satisfied. You were hungry, I bring you a feast, and then you complain about being full.”
“Bring me.” He chuckled. “Like you cooked and served it to me yourself. Right.”
“I could do it. You truly have no idea what leng
ths I’ll go to to get your pants around your ankles.”
He hummed a light noise, mouth quirking up in a close-lipped smile as he nudged his shoulder against mine. I knocked his back with a little more force, and his smile broke into a grin.
“Kinda wish we could stay a little longer,” I said. For a Saturday midafternoon, downtown was pretty quiet. Dora had said Dollywood was having some big-deal family day, and there was also some kind of camping or whitewater convention going on. It was nice, though, just walking beside Evan with no place to be. Not that Nashville was bad. It was a hipster city in many respects, and unless you were down on the strip where most of the tourists hung out, people left you alone, I thought because they figured they were cooler than you anyway. Everyone was a musician about to break. Everyone was on their way somewhere. But the thing was, there were parts of it that felt incestuous. Everyone knew everyone else, and also their business. The gossip trade was an industry of its own, and cutthroat. I guessed it was like that in other big cities, but I had no idea. I just knew it felt stifling sometimes when I’d hang out with someone and they’d mention so-and-so saw me at Fido earlier in the day drinking coffee with Jesse Rutgers and was I really talking to that hack musician? Were we going to work together? Etc., etc. So yeah, being apart from that was nice, and I’d just started nurturing a crazy spark of an idea about me and Evan investing in some sort of compound outside of the city when my faraway gaze came back into sharp focus on the figure waving excitedly at us as she came down the sidewalk.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Evan said, which was exactly what I was thinking. Ella.
I lifted my hand and gave her a tight smile, hoping she’d just pass on by. Definitely too much to hope for.
Her cheeks were flushed as she stopped in front of us, forcing us to stop, too. She brushed a honey-gold strand of hair from her forehead. “God, I forget how cute you guys are in the flesh.”
“You’re a sweetheart,” I said, pulling her in for a quick hug. Evan just stared at her with his hands shoved in his pockets.
Time to make this short and sweet and get the fuck out. “We’re actually on our way—”
“Oh yeah, sure, no worries.” She detached from me and peered at the both of us. “Wow,” she breathed, looking at Evan, “you’re really throwing some hardcore death stare my way.” She turned to me next. “And you didn’t answer my last text. Did I piss you off somehow?”
Evan chortled and shook his head. I shot him a glare.
“Nah, it’s all good. Just been caught up in a bit of a media circus.”
“Yeah…” She winced. “I didn’t realize it’d get so out of hand.”
“Yeah, so thanks for that,” Evan said, still glowering.
Her jaw slackened with the confusion behind her eyes, and she glanced at me again, as if I were the key to interpreting Evan’s animosity.
“It’s not her fault, dude—” I started, which was true, but I didn’t get to finish because Ella interrupted with the words that blew my world up.
“I thought you said it was okay?” Her gaze slid uncertainly toward me.
“Um.” That was all I managed. Words were not my friend that day, and the rest of my brainpower was devoted to trying to manifest the powers of telekinesis and open up a hole in the sidewalk to swallow her up. Hell, maybe the both of us. I cringed preemptively.
“What did you say was okay?” Evan’s gaze darted over to me and pinned me like a rivet through leather as Ella looked between us, her eyes widening as he spoke.
“He said that I could—”
Fucking hell. “I told her it was okay if she did a tell-all with that tabloid. But I didn’t say anything about us being together.”
“I didn’t say that!” Ella protested. “I mean, not in so many words—they just assumed it and asked me a lot of questions about how you guys acted around each other. Then they took it totally out of context. I had no idea you guys really were together.” She paused, looking between us. “Or… you’re not? I’m kind of confused, honestly.”
Evan’s lips pressed together so hard, I thought if he opened his mouth, his teeth might have turned into diamonds. And then, without another word, he wrenched his hands from his pockets and stalked down the street toward the car.
“Oh God, I’m sorry,” Ella said, clapping a hand over her mouth.
I shook my head quickly, then called out over my shoulder as I started after Evan. “It’s not your fault. Gave me the most intense few weeks of my life.” Maybe the best, too, but now I’d be paying for it.
Evan shook my hand off his shoulder as soon as it landed and kept marching toward the car.
I trotted after him. “Porter, Jesus, come on. It’s not that big of a deal. She was short rent money because someone stole her purse, and I didn’t tell her we were together. I just told her it was cool if she sold the story about hooking up with her.” She’d called me repeatedly that day and finally left me a tearful message in the evening. And yeah, I’d been a little drunk and maybe not thinking clearly about Evan and his privacy issues, but it seemed mostly harmless and I figured we’d get a little sales spike out of it that would make Evan happy. Two birds, one stone, everyone was satisfied.
He pulled the keys to the car out but paused with them in his hands, then whipped around to face me. “You keep saying that, but it is. It’s a big fucking deal to me.” His eyes narrowed into shards of ice so cold that even the sweltering July heat couldn’t touch it. “Did you know Levi wanted to set up this whole fake relationship thing? Were you part of the fucking plan all along?”
The force of his accusation hit me like a punch to the gut. I took a step backward, my mouth falling open. “Are you fucking kidding me? No. What the fuck?”
“How am I supposed to believe that?”
“Because I’m fucking telling you.”
“You didn’t tell me you gave Ella the green light to sell my fucking sex life. You didn’t tell me about Dan wanting to do a show at Grim’s. How else do I know what you’ve not told me, or what you’ve lied about. Oh my God.” He paled and went quiet. The detachment in his eyes when he looked back up at me did brutal things to my soul. “This, us? Is this even real for you? Holy shit am I an idiot.”
I couldn’t believe for a second he’d give any credibility to the idea that I’d been in on a fake relationship setup with Levi. Much less that I was lying to him about feelings I’d been hiding just trying to keep our band intact. It gutted me and I snapped. “Fuck you, Porter. Fuck you. I’m guilty of telling Ella to do the article, but I did that for you. I thought it’d help our ratings—those precious numbers you’re always obsessing over. So that’s my bad, yeah. But I did it, Evan, fuck… I did it because I’m in love with you. What you’re suggesting about Levi, that doesn’t even make sense, and if you think it does, you don’t fucking know me at all.”
“You’re right about that last part. I guess I don’t.” His hands knotted in his hair, and his eyes squeezed shut; then he released a long breath and opened the car door.
“I’m done,” he said, and I didn’t have to ask what he meant.
I launched at him as he slid into the car. I needed him to calm down, needed him to listen to me. He snarled as he forced me back, his eyes dark with fury. “Leave me the fuck alone, Les, or I will hurt you.” He meant it, too; his elbow cocked back and his hand tightened into a fist, and I could see the momentum gathering, anything I might say enough to snap the thin restraint.
But a fist to the face would’ve felt better than watching him slam the car door shut.
He left me in the parking lot. The sun blazed down, and I might as well have been standing in Antarctica. A few people had gathered on the sidewalk. I ignored them as I pulled out my phone and started walking toward Grim’s.
Owen gave me a ride back to the cabin. Evan was gone, of course. With all his stuff, with the car.
Tattletale posted pictures of us arguing in the parking lot that night, which I was sure Adam Slade loved. I didn’t know
who took them. It didn’t matter. None of it did.
I called Blink and told him to book a red-eye to Vegas the following evening.
Chapter 35
Slippery Nipples, Mind Erasers, Jager Bombs. Thin rails of coke like white jail bars on the mirror. Powders and pretty pastel pills. Hash in an orange pipe. I didn’t care what it was. I just swallowed, sucked, and snorted it all. Streaks of light, a city from a window with rain sliding like sludge down the pane. I went to sleep dancing on the axis of the world, and woke with it drilling into my temples.
Where the fuck was I?
My head boomed in time to the pulse of rising panic, like a giant gong ringing against my temples. I scrabbled through sheets and pillows, knocking over ashtrays and empty bottles in search of my phone and found it on the floor. A desperate glance out the window showed me a neon dawn. Vegas. Of course.
I had about a million and one text messages, most of them from Blink and Mars. None from Evan, but my call log was filled with outgoing calls to him. Fuck me.
Rushing around the trashed hotel suite, I scouted every surface for something to take the edge off, my hands shaking. Something to calm my stomach, my head. My heart. And when I came up empty, I dropped onto the couch and folded my arms over my knees. I lit a lone cigarette I found on the coffee table and massaged my forehead with the heel of my hand.
Nausea surged through me after two inhales, and I barely managed to stub the cigarette out and make it to the trash can before I was hurling up shit I didn’t even remember eating.
When I’d finished, I was trembling and cold and fuck, I was alone. Really alone.
I punched Blink’s contact on my phone, and he answered on the first ring.
“Dude, where have you—?”
I cut him off with an unintelligible croak, then tried again. “I need you to come pick me up.”