Ethan: It's been a long time. I'm not holding shit against you. The two of us can be friends.
Violet: We can?
Ethan: If you stop undressing me with your eyes.
Violet: Stop wearing tight t-shirts and jeans and we'll talk. And eyeliner—don't even think about wearing eyeliner.
Ethan: You described my stage getup.
Violet: Did I?
Ethan: You know you did.
Violet: I described your old stage getup. How should I know what you wear now? A lot of other things have changed. You could have grown out of eyeliner.
Ethan: Grown out of it?
Violet: Yeah.
Ethan: Cause it's for kids or some shit?
Violet: That's not what I meant.
Ethan: You always jumped me when I was wearing eyeliner.
Violet: Maybe.
Ethan: You really think you can sell this story about how it's something I'd grow out of?
Violet: I looked hot when I wore a hot pink bra under my seethrough top. It was still a phase I grew out of.
Ethan: Sorry I missed that.
Violet: I was 15, you perv!
Ethan: We're the same age.
Violet: Technicalities.
Ethan: You think I look hot in eyeliner.
Violet: Maybe.
Ethan: You afraid to admit it?
Violet: Okay, you look hot in eyeliner. You look hot in everything, Ethan. You're a very attractive man.
Ethan: Why does that sound like an accusation?
Violet: Maybe I wish I could pull off that just-rolled-out-of-bed hairstyle.
Ethan: You always looked good when you rolled out of my bed.
Violet: With all of last night's makeup perfectly in place?
Ethan: I preferred when I got you sweaty enough your makeup smudged.
Violet: Are you flirting with me?
Ethan: Maybe.
Violet: Are you?
Ethan: You know I am. It's friendly. We'll be friends.
Violet: Just friends?
Ethan: Just friends.
Violet: You honestly believe we can do that?
Ethan: I can. Can you?
Violet: Remember that bit about you being an attractive man?
Ethan: You're still hot as fuck, Violet. Doesn't mean I can't be your friend.
Violet: Yeah. I guess you're right. I'll see you tomorrow.
Ethan: Sweet dreams.
Violet: You too.
Chapter 8
Violet
I spend the morning having breakfast with my dad. He's not jazzed to see me leave, but he's more excited about this potential opportunity than Mom was. It takes a lot of effort to keep from blurting this is a load of bullshit, I'm doing work that has nothing to do with my field but I manage.
Then it's coffee with Mom. By the time I get home, I only have an hour to pack. I appreciate how much my parents want me around, I really do. And I know they love me.
But I still want to be somewhere else.
I'm not sure that tagging along on my rock star ex-boyfriend's tour is where I want to be, but at this point, I'm willing to try just about anything.
After I pack, I spend far too much time picking out the perfect outfit to make Ethan regret throwing me away. High-waisted skinny jeans, a carefully cropped Garbage top, and heeled boots are just the right mix of ordinary concert outfit and I'm hot and I know it and I want to make sure you know it too.
I finish my makeup just as the doorbell rings. Piper, Ethan and Mal's little sister, is driving me to the show. It's in Los Angeles, only an hour away without traffic. This time of day, we should manage an hour and a half.
I take one last look around, I say goodbye to the memories that are haunting me here, and I meet Piper downstairs.
"Oh my God, Violet, you look great!" Piper's dark blond hair bounces as she throws her arms around me. "Your haircut is cute. And it's bold. I could never pull that off."
"Thanks."
She grabs my rolling duffel.
"I can get that."
"No, I insist." She leads me to her car—a practical silver sedan-and opens the passenger side door for me.
"Such a gentleman," I say. "Gentlewoman, I guess."
It's hard to believe Piper is such an adult. She must be nineteen and she really does look like a woman and not a girl. She's wearing a snug navy dress and wedge shoes and her makeup is pretty and subtle.
She gets into the car with a smile. "You have to tell me all about school and about living in New York City. I love visiting."
I catch her up on all the interesting details while she gets onto the freeway, then I take my turn asking about her life. She's a freshman at UCI now. She's not sure what she's going to study. She's still stuck with Ethan and especially Mal being annoying and overprotective, but I can tell she still adores both her brothers.
Well, almost.
"I swear." Piper squeezes the steering wheel. Her blue eyes—they're the same shade as Ethan's—narrow. "I can't believe Ethan is so stupid. He never listens to me. I told him that you wouldn't have left unless he pushed you. I told him that you loved him and that he was never going to find anyone like you—God, you should see the way he mows through cheap sluts. I know I shouldn't slut-shame and everything but ugh! It's gross. He always looks at me like—" she mimics Ethan "—'Aw, poor Pipes, she's so young that she doesn't understand grownup relationships.'"
"That was a long time ago." I cross and uncross my legs. I appreciate that Piper sees my side of things, but I don't want to talk about this with her. Hell, I don't want to talk about it with anyone.
Ethan threw me away. If I give him the chance, he'll throw me away again.
"Yeah, that's true. And you know I get it if you want nothing to do with Ethan romantically. But if you do… if you still love him… well, he still cares about you, Violet. He's not happy without you," she says.
"He's a millionaire rock star now." It's not that I doubt people with money, fame, and success can have problems. It's more that Ethan has always put music ahead of everything. How can he have the success he's always dreamed of and still be miserable?
"Hmmm." Piper takes a deep breath. "He's happy on stage, when he plays, when he goes and talks to fans. But other times… I think he misses you."
Is that really possible? Ethan didn't say a single word to me after he dared me to leave. Nearly two years passed.
He had a million chances to reach out. He had a million chances to get me back.
My stomach twists. This conversation is making me nauseous.
Need to change the subject. "Tell me more about your classes."
She looks at me with concern, but she still takes the bait.
We arrive just in time for the sound check. After greeting a few roadies—Piper knows everyone and everyone adores her—we hang out by the side of the stage.
The stage lights are bright enough it's hard to see anything but Ethan on stage, his guitar strap pulling his t-shirt down his chest. He looks good from behind, especially in those tight jeans. The man has an ass to die for. His back is strong. Those broad shoulders…
Damn. This isn't working. I fetch two water bottles—one for me and one for Piper—and perfect my I don't give a fuck about you, Ethan face as I make my way back to the stage.
Only when I catch a glimpse of my reflection, I can see every crack. My lips are fighting a smile. Because there's Ethan with his guitar, looking at me between songs.
The only solution is more eyeliner. And more lipstick. Hell, I'll add more blush while I'm there. My hair is all natural at the moment, but I can grab a bottle of Vampire Red and go from strawberry blond to the perfect crimson don't fuck with me or I'll kick your ass shade.
Sure, changing my appearance isn't going to do anything to convince my mind or my heart that all this is okay. But it will convince everyone I'm the kind of girl who doesn't take shit.
His eyelids press together as his fingers glide over his guitar. He rocks his hips and
throws his body into his playing in this perfect mix of you want to fuck me sexy and guy who can't believe he's actually standing on stage in a venue this big gleeful energy.
He stays lost in his playing until his turn is over. Then he's handing his guitar to a roadie. His eyes fix on mine. His lips curl into a smile.
Mine do the same. It's a reflex. There's no way to fight it.
Friends.
We're going to be friends.
I'm there. I can be friends with the guy who broke my heart when he was supposed to paste it back together.
I'm not about to admit I can't handle it.
He takes a step towards me. His eyes go to something else.
Is that Tom Steele?
It is.
Tom saunters into the room like he owns the place. And, really, he does. Tom is the Sinful Serenade drummer and he's the most famous guy any of us know. But he doesn't need fame to own every room he steps into. He oozes playful charisma.
It's the same charisma that drew me to Ethan, though Ethan is more obvious about wearing his heart on his sleeve. Or he was. Or I was particularly good at seeing that side of him.
Fuck, this is confusing. But Tom was my friend or close to it, and I am happy to see him.
"Okay, I'm here. You can start having fun now." Tom slides off his sunglasses and flashes his million-dollar smile. He nods to Ethan and spins on his heels—he's wearing fuchsia Converse—to face us. "Hey, Pipes. You miss me?"
"It's been three days since I last saw you," she says.
"Bet it's been miserable," he says.
She laughs. "Always miserable without you, Tom." She goes to hug him hello.
Ethan was in one of Tom's bands when the two of them (plus Tom's bassist brother Pete) were in high school. The band broke up the way most high school bands do, but Tom has always stayed in touch. He was already famous when Ethan and I started dating, but he still made a point of coming to Dangerous Noise shows and visiting the Strong family every time he was in Orange County.
His eyes go wide as he takes me in. "Fuck, Violet Valentine. Is that really you or is Ethan into some fucked up I need a woman who looks like my ex shit?"
"It's me," I say.
Tom's eyes widen as he looks back to Ethan. "How the fuck did he get you here?"
"Mal offered me a gig," I say.
Tom nods. He gives me a once-over. "You two fucking again or what?" His voice is matter of fact. To Tom, this is a normal question.
Piper laughs.
Ethan shrugs as if he has absolutely no opinion on whether or not our bodies are joining.
His voice tells a different story.
"No, we're not," Ethan mutters through clenched teeth.
"I'd be upset about that too if I were you." Tom motions to me. "Get your cute ass over here and hug me hello."
He raises a brow—trust me.
Is he really trying to make Ethan jealous?
I look at Ethan for a split second. He's smiling through clenched teeth.
He is jealous.
Well, I'm not about to snub an old friend because my ex is jealous.
I hug Tom hello. "I don't flirt with married men."
He steps back and shows off his wedding band. "I don't flirt with anyone but my wife."
I laugh. "I haven't seen you in forever."
"You look good. That's a nice top. Garbage is the shit." Tom leans in to stage whisper. "Plus, you get to remind Ethan what he's missing with your tits on display like that."
"Uh…" My cheeks are burning.
"Hey, if I had those tits, I'd show 'em off too. Do me a favor, Violet." Tom looks me in the eyes.
"Depends what it is," I say.
"Fair. I'm a demanding man." Again, he leans in to stage whisper. "Keep making Ethan's life hard."
"What do I get?" I shrug as if I'm not thinking about making Ethan hard.
"My undying devotion isn't enough?" He mimes being stabbed in the gut.
I laugh. "If you were single, maybe."
"I can throw in making Ethan miserable and horny," Tom says.
Dammit, I'm hot all over.
Tom laughs.
Ethan cuts in. "You want to play with Joel's drum kit or something?"
Tom laughs. "No, I'm playing exactly how I want to play. It's real good to see you, Violet. Give him hell for me."
Tom winks at me, then at Ethan. He moves on to giving Joel a hard time, grabbing one of his drum sticks and attempting to play half Joel's part.
Ethan steps closer. He's not wearing his frustration anymore. His blue eyes are bright and his lips are curled into a half-smile.
"Let me take care of this." He motions to my suitcase. "I'll show you to the bus." He looks to Piper, still hanging out by the sidelines. "You want to grab dinner?"
"Have to talk to Mal," she says.
Her eyes tell a different story. Her eyes are fixed on a handsome guy dressed in a black button-up, designer jeans, and motorcycle boots. Oh, that's Kit. The Dangerous Noise bassist has a mass of curly black hair, dark eyes, and sculpted features. He's also got an eyebrow piercing. The man is beautiful enough to grace magazine covers. And he's got that whole tall, dark, mysterious thing going on too.
Rumor has it his tongue is pierced and said piercing is divine, but then I'm not about to admit to reading celebrity gossip.
"Always going over my head," Ethan teases her.
She manages to pull her eyes away from the bassist. "He's the boss-man."
Ethan hugs his sister goodbye. "I know it's a school night, but say goodbye before you leave, okay?"
She nods and whispers something in his ear.
He whispers back.
I try, hard, not to swoon over what a caring brother he is.
After Ethan releases her, he turns to me. "The four of us travel on our own bus. Well, plus you and our driver. The rest of the crew, roadies, and our tour manager, travel on their own bus."
I nod, but I'm not really thinking about these technicalities. I'm thinking about how Ethan and I are going to be alone on that bus.
Ethan grabs my suitcase and guides me towards the sides of the room. Piper, genius woman that she is, uses the opportunity to go up to Kit. They exchange friendly-looking words and a hello hug.
But I can't consider the implications. Ethan's arm is around my waist. His body is warm and he smells good, like sweat and like Ethan.
We move through the crowded backstage area and out through the side door. Sure enough, there are several black, unmarked tour buses parked in the massive lot.
Ethan leads me to the one on the far right. "Your drive okay?"
"Yeah, great. Piper seems really grown up."
"She is. I hate it."
"Overprotective older brother?" I ask.
He nods, pulls open the bus door, and leads me inside.
It's big. There's a seating area with a TV and a couch, a section of six bunks with privacy curtains, and a small kitchenette.
Ethan places my suitcase on one of the bottom bunks. "This one is yours."
"Great. Thanks." I shift my weight between my legs. I'm still right at the bus's entrance. He's all the way over there. Only the bus is small enough that all the way over there is only five feet.
He moves closer.
Closer.
Closer enough to touch me, hug me, kiss me.
He looks down at me. His breath is steady. His blue eyes are filled with something I can't place.
His lips look soft.
But I can't think like this. We have to be friends. He'll throw me away again, and I won't survive that.
I take a step backwards. I need to say something, do something. "I… I'm hungry."
I swallow hard.
God, I really have no tact.
"I was going to get tacos at a place down the street." He grabs an Angels cap from one of the bottom bunks. "You want to come?"
"Won't you get recognized?"
"Not with this." He pulls on the baseball cap.
"Ye
ah, right. Go Angels. How are they doing?"
"Season hasn't started yet." His lips curl into a smile that lights up his eyes. He's endeared by my nervousness. "Place has great guacamole."
Damn, my weakness.
Okay, dinner. I can do dinner. Friends have dinner, and Ethan and I are friends.
"Sure," I say.
He slides his arm around my waist and guides me off the bus.
We're friends.
Just friends.
But the way he's touching me doesn't feel remotely platonic.
Chapter 9
Violet
The Mexican restaurant down the block—it's more like half a mile—is a hole-in-the-wall place. Its menu is scribbled in chalk above the counter, but then I don't really need to look at the menu. I already know what I want.
Ethan and I get in line.
As usual, he is effortlessly cool. I'm a nervous wreck but I'm doing an all right job keeping that to myself.
I press my lips together. "Your cap is really red."
His smile lights up his eyes. "That is the team color."
"Yeah, but won't it mess up your hair?"
"Lots of guys wear baseball caps on stage."
"Not the ones who bounce around and pull off their shirts mid-set."
Ethan cocks a brow. "Have you been coming to Dangerous Noise shows?"
I lean in to whisper in his ear. "You're more famous than you think you are."
My cheek brushes his neck as I pull away. He's warm and the skin-to-skin contact is setting me on fire. I want more of it.
I want all of it.
Ethan takes off the cap and shakes his head. His hair falls back into that effortless style.
"That isn't fair," I tease. It really isn't. I have to blow dry my hair to get it to cooperate.
He shrugs, still effortless.
Ethan's voice drops to something low and serious. "Piper was happy to see you."
"She's sweet."
He holds up his buzzing cell phone. "She keeps texting to tell me not to fuck this up."
I study the expression in his bright blue eyes. He seems sincere. But what does that mean? It's almost like Ethan agrees with Piper that he fucked things up between us.
It's almost like he wants me back.
But that's ridiculous.
Dangerous Kiss (Dangerous Noise Book 1) Page 5