Ethan laughs. "Not even a little."
"Just a bit harder than calculus." I pull my textbook, notebook, and pen from my messenger bag. The way Ethan is looking at me with affection in his eyes is making me nervous. I chew on the cap of my pen. That helps.
"I love the way you light up when you talk about math. I'm glad you get to do what you love." He spins his guitar pick. "I'm going to stop distracting you eventually."
"You can distract me a little."
"Let me make it up to you." He stretches his fingers then places them on his guitar. He starts to play a familiar song, Can't Seem to Make You Mine by Garbage.
Does the choice mean anything? Does he even know the title? I try not to think about it. Instead, I close my eyes and let the music wash over me. Ethan goes through a dozen alternative rock hits—all songs I love, but is that a coincidence or does he remember?—before he starts practicing Dangerous Noise songs.
The whole time, I pretend like I'm studying. But really, I'm thinking about how much this feels like old times.
I fucking miss old times.
The afternoon is a blur of studying. First with Ethan. Then in my room. I barely have time to change, fix my hair, and do my makeup before Sharon pops by to whisk me to the venue. She talks my ear off about how impressive it is that I'm helping with the band's books at such a young age, and about how she actually works for a software company that always has room for smart people in software design, especially people with master's degrees from NYU.
She assures me that Portland's gorgeous sunny summers are worth the six months of rain and grey. Sharon seems nice, but I'm glad when we arrive backstage and find Mal. He plants a deep kiss on her lips, whispers sweet nothings in her ear, and sends her away.
I bite my lip to keep from commenting on his player moves.
He chuckles but says nothing about my resting bitch face.
Our workspace is a dressing room. Its locked door is labeled Private. Seems Mal is the only person who has the key.
He locks the door behind us and sets up his laptop at a table in the corner. The room is small but it's clean and the table has two chairs. It's a fine place to work.
I double-check my findings then I go over them with Mal. He nods as I explain, only occasionally interjecting to ask for clarification. Mostly, he nods or shakes his head, holding his usual Mal Strong it's hard being in charge but someone's got to do it poker face.
When I've explained everything I can, I do my best to summarize. "It's possible this is an accounting error, but that's unlikely. Twenty grand goes missing then it shows up two months later. You haven't lost any money, but all signs point to someone 'borrowing' it and replacing it secretly."
"Hmmm."
"Should I do anything about this?"
"No. The money is here. Twenty grand isn't anything to fuss over."
That must be nice. "What do you want me to tell Ethan?"
Mal pushes up from the table. "Mind if I ask you something personal?"
"Do I have a choice?"
He raises a brow.
I push myself up too. I try to copy his cool and composed gesture, but it's not happening.
I pace.
He stares.
I pace faster.
"That a no?" he asks.
"Just ask."
"You and Ethan—is that really no strings attached?" His voice drops low enough to convince me he's concerned.
I wish I had an answer. I fold my arms and hold Mal's steady stare. "I'm trying to work on living in the moment."
He chuckles. "That's bullshit."
"Maybe, but it's true. I haven't had any fun since Asher died."
"Any?"
"Not the kind you have with Sharon. Or when you step on stage every night. I know that's hard work, but I see the four of you after. Even you look exhilarated."
"Hmm…" He gives me a paternal once-over.
I'm sure Mal means well, but he's not going to convince me his loyalties lie anywhere other than with Ethan. "It's really none of your business."
"I know."
"Then how about we stay on task?"
"I have an idea about where the money is. If Ethan asks, tell him that."
"That you won't tell me?"
"Yeah."
"Okay." I try to hold a confident posture, but Mal's stare is intense. Within moments, I'm back to pacing.
"Maybe it's none of my business, but do me a favor, Violet. Don't break his heart again."
Anger flares in my chest. Who the fuck does Mal think he is, looking at me with that concerned big brother expression, like I maliciously tore out Ethan's heart and threw it to the wolves?
Doesn't anybody care that he broke my heart?
Doesn't anybody care that Ethan destroyed me?
Obviously not. Mal thinks I destroyed Ethan. Kit thinks I destroyed Ethan. Joel thinks I destroyed Ethan. Piper is on my side, but she's not here to defend me.
Ethan used to be the person who understood me, but this…
Fuck this.
I tap my toe against the carpet. Mal is waiting for a response.
I open my mouth to tell him to go fuck himself. But those words don't fall.
I pace faster.
He stares.
Fine. I need to say something. I offer Mal my best smile. "We're just having fun."
He shakes his head no, you're not.
I shake my head back yes, we are.
He stares.
I clear my throat. "Is there anything else?"
"Whatever Ethan said about you two being casual is bullshit. He cares about you."
Maybe. I press my lips together. "I've seen him in a hundred pictures with a hundred different women. Ethan doesn't have trouble separating love and sex."
"Hmmm."
I can't take it anymore. "I loved Ethan more than I've ever loved anyone."
"Then don't hurt him again." Mal's deep eyes get intense and protective.
He really believes I'm careless with Ethan's feelings.
Fuck him.
I stare back at Mal. "I didn't want to hurt Ethan when we broke up the first time. I didn't want to leave. He didn't give me another choice. He had nearly two years to get me back, but he never did as much as send me a text."
Mal says nothing.
"Maybe I did hurt Ethan. Maybe I destroyed him. But you know what? He destroyed me too."
Mal, that fucking asshole, just stares back at me, his deep blue eyes mysterious and impenetrable.
"I'll keep your fucking advice in mind though, Mal. I'll try not to break his heart. But why don't you warn him to be careful with my heart?"
Right on cue, there's a knock on the door. Probably Mal's fuck buddy. He gets to enjoy his casual sex without the third degree. He gets to win over a few thousand people when he steps on stage. He gets his pick of conversation, dance, or fuck partners wherever he goes after the show.
He doesn't have to deal with any of this don't break Ethan's heart bullshit.
"Yeah?" Mal calls to the door.
"You in there, Vi?" Ethan taps his fingers against the door. "Want to warm up my hands the fun way."
Mal cringes. Ah, thank goodness for minor victories.
He opens the door for Ethan. His eyes go to mine. "You're right. But think about what I said anyway."
I clench my teeth and dig my nails into my thighs. My a-line cotton skirt is thin enough it stings. Fucking asshole.
Ethan looks from Mal to me. "What'd he say?"
There's nothing but earnest affection in Ethan's blue eyes. He wants to know why I'm hurting. I want to tell him. I want to collapse in his arms and show him every place I hurt.
Hell, I want to rip open my chest, hand him my broken heart, and beg him to sew it back together.
But I can't.
He's the reason I'm suffering this third degree.
He doesn't understand that he forced me to leave. He doesn't understand that he pushed me away when I needed him to pull me closer. Until he
understands that, this is staying casual. Even if that kills me.
"Vi, what did he say?" Ethan kicks the door closed and slides his arms around my waist.
"That the two of you should talk about the missing money. Mal knows where it went. He won't tell me. But he wants to talk it over with you." I fold my arms and offer Mal my sweetest fuck you smile. This is his problem now. "Don't worry. The money is back. You're on budget for the tour. And you have a lot of extra royalties coming in." I press my lips together. With my access to the books, I know Ethan's Dangerous Noise earnings, down to the penny. "You're still a multi-millionaire. I should let you two talk. I'll see you after the show." I make my way to the door.
Ethan pulls me into a tight embrace. His lips hover over my ear. "You sure that's it?"
I nod.
He drags his lips over my neck. "You owe me one, Vi. You're coming on my hands later."
God yes. I kiss him hard then I offer him my best coy smile. "I'll find a way to fit you into my schedule."
Chapter 18
Violet
I want to tell Mal to go fuck himself for his presumptions, but I can't bring myself to say anything close to that.
I understand his impulse. If I could go back in time and protect Asher from all the hurt that destroyed him, I'd do it. And I certainly wouldn't let anyone get in my way.
I hang out by the stage and watch the show. It takes three songs for my thoughts to drift away. Ethan is amazing. He commands the stage as well as he commands his guitar. Every time he blows kisses to the audience, a few hundred girls scream with glee. All of them want to bring the guitarist home.
They don't get him.
He's mine.
Not forever. Not even for a while. But for the next week, he's mine.
Ethan is sure of that too. As soon as the band is backstage, he slides his arms around my waist. He pins me to the wall and drags his lips over my neck.
"You look good enough to eat in that skirt." He sucks on my earlobe. "Let's go out, just me and you."
And nobody giving me shit about how I broke Ethan's heart. Sounds great. "Where?"
"For donuts."
"It's ten-thirty."
"Place is open all night."
"Okay." Honestly, at the moment, I'll go anywhere. I very much want to be not here.
I very much want to be wherever Ethan is.
Ethan grabs his leather jacket and leads me out the side door. It opens into an alley. There's noise to our right.
Uh-uh. No more interruptions. I squeeze his hand and lead him to the left.
"That's the wrong way," he says.
"So?" I step onto the sidewalk and check to see if the coast is clear. We're a block away from the venue. No one is waiting for a rock star sighting or, worse, the chance to invite herself into a rock star's bed.
I shake off the thought of Ethan plowing through groupies. The two of us are having fun. Doesn't matter what came before. Doesn't matter what comes after.
Right now, us having fun tonight—that's what matters.
Ethan laughs. "Which way is it, Master Navigator Violet Valentine?"
I have no clue. But I'm not admitting that. "This way." I point towards the direction of a busy street. Despite the misty rain, the sidewalk is packed with people. Some wear rain coats. Others brave the cool air in cocktail dresses and heels.
Shit, it's cold. I'm not used to doing things on the fly. I keep forgetting my coat. I'm about to pull my arms across my chest when Ethan slides his leather jacket over my shoulders.
"You still on track?" he asks.
"Yes, of course. I'm an expert in Portland geography."
"Yeah? Have all sorts of crazy visits to the City of Roses?"
"Do people call it that?"
"You're the expert."
"Uh… No, they don't."
He smiles at me: you're cute when you're making shit up.
I smile back at him.
I stop at a busy intersection. There's a bridge to our right and a dive bar to our left. In front of us is the Chinatown arch and a whole lot of booming bass. There must be a dozen clubs across the street. "I don't want donuts."
"You don't?"
The light changes. The walk signal turns on. I pull Ethan into the crosswalk. My voice gets low, needy. "I want to dance with you."
I want his body pressed against mine in some sweaty, loud club. I can have fun. I can even come up with the idea myself.
He waits until we're back on the sidewalk to speak. "I want to get you off in the club."
So I'm a beginner and he's advanced. All the better. I can spend the next week learning how to have fun. I knew how to do it once. I can figure it out again.
"Vi? You there?" Ethan slides his arm around me, stepping back into the lead. "Or are you too busy thinking about coming on my hand?"
"I'm here."
"Good."
He shoots me a panty-melting look. Fuck. Ethan is way beyond advanced at this too. Right now, I'm not letting that flummox me. Right now, I'm enjoying the ride.
He stops in front of one of the clubs and nods hello to the bouncer. The guy shoots Ethan a sideways glance. Despite the recognition in his eyes, he stays professional.
"IDs please," the bouncer says.
Ethan flashes his ID to the bouncer.
I dig my ID out from my back pocket and hand it to the bouncer.
The bouncer steps out of the way. He offers Ethan a nod. "I love that one song, Better Days. Dangerous Noise is all right."
Ethan laughs. "That means a lot, thanks." He shakes the guy's hand then takes mine and whisks me into the club.
House music bounces off the walls. I let my body take over. My hips sway from side to side. My arms go around Ethan's shoulders. Then I'm the one pulling him closer. I'm the one pressing my lips to his, sliding my tongue into his mouth. He tastes good and there's something amazing about kissing him. It makes me hungrier and needier, yes, but it also satisfies something deep inside me.
I grind my hips against Ethan's until my thoughts slip away. His body moves in time with mine. One hand goes to my ass to guide me. The other slides under my blouse.
I moan into his mouth as he cups my breast. Then his thumb is in my bra, playing with my nipple. It feels so good I can barely take it.
I kiss him harder. I grab his ass and hold his body against mine. He's hard. I want that. I want him as needy as I am.
I want him screaming my name as he comes. I need that sound in my ears. I need to know that, right now, he's mine.
He slides his arm around my waist and leads me through the dance floor. "You want a drink?"
I nod.
"Vodka soda?"
"Thanks."
He cuts through the crowd to the bar. It's harder perfecting the whole I'm great at fun thing on my own. Fuck it. I throw my arms over my head and I dance like it's going out of style.
My hips sway in time with the beat. I shift my weight between my legs, then I lean down low.
When Ethan returns, he guides me to an empty booth in the corner. It has a high back and we're facing the wall. It's a modicum of privacy. But I don't want privacy. I don't want to sit at all.
I want to move. I want to feel the rhythm in my bones.
"Come on." I take a long sip to down half my drink. "Let's dance."
He gives me a long, slow once-over. His eyes light up. "Take off the leather jacket."
I slide it off my shoulders and toss it on the table.
He downs his usual drink—whiskey on the rocks—in one long swig and pushes himself to his feet.
I follow his lead and finish my cocktail. It's a good drink—clean, crisp vodka and enough of it my head is swimming.
Ethan takes my glass and places it on the table. Then his hands are on my hips and he's pulling my body against his.
He's such a good dancer.
I look up at him. His bright blue eyes are filled with this mix of affection and desire.
It's intoxicating.
; I slip my hands under his t-shirt and press my palms against his lower back. "This the kind of place where you'd go to pick up women?"
"What's that matter?"
"It doesn't." I shift my weight between my legs. "Are you going to go back to sleeping around after I leave?"
"Not thinking about what happens after you leave." He drags his fingers through my hair. His palm cups the back of my neck. "Don't want to think about you leaving." He brings his other hand to my hip and pulls me closer. "Let's think about right now."
I want that. I want to be good at it. I hold Ethan close and I match his movements. Kit is dead wrong— guitarists have masterful rhythm. Ethan doesn't miss a beat.
My body against his…
Fuck, I'm on fire. I can't remember the last time I wanted anything this much. I don't think I've ever wanted anything this much.
I reach up to my tiptoes. My lips hover over his ear. "I've been lonely without you."
He presses his cheek against mine as he moves in to whisper. "You could find another guy in a hot second."
"I know. I started dating that guy, Denny, a few months after school started. He was all right on paper— smart, professional, serious, the kind of guy my mom would like. He loved me. He wanted to marry me, but I turned him down." My cheeks flush. I guess I'm tipsy already, because my inhibitions aren't slowing this down. "He never made my heart flutter the way you did."
He drags his fingers down my chest until they're over my heart. "Is it fluttering now?"
"You can't tell?"
He shakes his head.
"It is." I look into his eyes. I'm not sure what I want to say. I'm not sure I want to say anything. Mostly, I want to get lost in all the affection in his blue eyes.
"Even though I'm a shallow celebrity asshole now?"
"You're not."
"Yeah. I am. I live for the attention."
"On stage." I press my lips together. "You're good on stage. You belong there."
He nods. "But that's not all it is. I screw fans. I talk shit in the tabloids. I pose for Instagram pics with lingerie models. Partly, it's the image. I have to play the bad boy rock star. I know the attention and the adoration is fake, but there's always a split second where it feels real."
Dangerous Kiss (Dangerous Noise Book 1) Page 12