"Hey." He smiles.
"Hey." I smile back. The sun is pouring through the deck's sliding door. The ocean breeze too. It smells like salt. I can hear the faint roar of waves crashing.
And Ethan is smiling at me as he makes breakfast.
It's not our kitchen, but it could be. This could be our life. There are practicalities in the way. At the moment, I don't care. I don't care about tomorrow or what happens after Ethan's show in New York. I don't even care about my birthday next week.
This moment is what I care about.
I nearly squeal with glee when he slides a plate of scrambled eggs and a halved avocado in front of me.
"Rock god, sex god, avocado god." I stare into Ethan's gorgeous blue eyes. "That's a dangerous combination."
He grabs the hot sauce and slides into the seat across from mine. "Shouldn't it be an avocado goddess? They're an awfully feminine fruit." He traces the outline of a halved avocado. "It's got a shape to it."
"Pervert!"
He laughs. "Not in a sexual way. In an all life springs from the womb kind of way."
I stick out my tongue in distaste. "Did you become a hippie when I wasn't looking?"
"No. Still a rock star."
"You really are." I scoop avocado onto my eggs. Then hot sauce. "Don't you get recognized at the gym?"
"There's a fancy gym at the mall next to main street now. I get is that him stares, but people know better than to interrupt."
"Rich people would never want to seem uncouth."
"Or admit to liking the commoners' music." He digs into his eggs. "These are good."
"You made them."
"Still, didn't expect them to turn out this good."
I reach over to run my fingers through his hair. "You're good at lots of things."
He looks me in the eyes. "Do I make you happy?"
"Yeah, you do."
"Then I'm good at the two things that matter to me."
"Making eggs and making me happy?" I tease.
"Music and you." He takes another bite. This time, he chews slowly. His voice gets soft, cautious. "We have to leave in a few hours. The show tonight is in Albany. They're three hours ahead of us."
"Sure." I take a few bites. The eggs really are good. And I really do appreciate Ethan cooking and making tea. He's really taking care of me.
Right now, life really is perfect.
The next few days with Ethan are a blur of afternoons on the bus, evenings at shows, and nights in his room.
Joel is no longer arranging his own transport but he isn't talking to Mal either. The two of them seem content to give each other the cold shoulder indefinitely.
Between studying and job applications, I stay busy enough to stay out of the fray. One of the genetics labs in Orange County wants to hire me, based entirely on my published articles, resume, and cover letter. Ethan will be home all summer. He'll be home whenever he's not on tour.
We could be together.
It's a great lab too. On paper, it's perfect.
I should wait to hear back from the labs in other parts of the country. They might offer better salaries or more responsibilities. They might be better for my future career.
None of that seems as important as being someplace that feels like home. My parents' place has plenty of room to grow on that front, but being with Ethan, that feels like home.
I force myself to arrange a Skype interview, to make sure it's a good fit, but deep down, I know I want to take the job.
This time, I'm ready to bend.
I just hope Ethan is ready to meet me halfway.
The show at Madison Square Garden is like something out of a dream, even from my spot on the side of the stage. That's Ethan, the man I love, the guy who grew up dreaming about performing on the famous stage, playing to ten thousand screaming fans. This show is huge, at least twice the size of any of the previous tour stops.
I force myself to take in all the Dangerous Noise guys. Mal and Ethan have a fun stage dynamic. They riff off each other's energy, tease each other, even swap places and guitars mid song. The singer stays coy and untouchable. Ethan stays energetic and welcoming.
Joel shows no signs of his frustration with Mal. He's an animal on his drum kit and he captivates the crowd every time he pauses to wipe his sweat with his shirt or blow kisses.
Kit is in his corner of the stage, rocking his bass guitar, inviting the crowd to look but not touch. Every time he brushes his mass of curly hair from his eyes or waves at the crowd, a thousand women scream his name.
Right now, there's no doubt in my mind that the four of them belong here. There's no doubt that the frost between Joel and Mal will fade. There's no doubt that they'll go on to record platinum albums and win Grammys.
After Mal and Ethan take turns teasing the headliners, the lights go down, the crowd screams, and Ethan goes straight to me.
His strong arms envelop me. His heart is beating so hard I can feel it against my chest. This is what he wants, everything he's ever wanted.
Can I really ask him to give up any of it?
My thoughts evaporate as he presses his lips to mine.
When the kiss breaks, he looks into my eyes. "Stick around. I have a surprise for you after the show."
"Oh yeah?"
He nods. "You'll love it." He kisses me again. It's hungrier this time. "It will be a while."
"That's okay." I brush a strand of dark hair from his gorgeous blue eyes. "Go tend to your fans."
"You can come with."
I shake my head. "I don't need to incite the rage of the jealous fangirls who want you to themselves."
He cocks a brow. "You wouldn't defend my honor?"
"What honor?"
He laughs. "Vi, I…" His eyes go to the floor, then they're on mine. "I'm glad you're here." He pulls me into another tight embrace. "Now stay here. Or at least stay around."
"I will."
I kiss him goodbye then watch as a dozen people stop to offer congrats or support. Sinful Serenade is halfway through their set when Ethan finally clears backstage.
After their show—they're as amazing as always—I hang out with Joel, then Kit, then Mal. They take turns chatting with fans, entertaining me, and avoiding each other.
It's well past midnight when Ethan scoops me into his arms. "Come on." He nods goodbye to Mal and leads me out to the stage.
The room is cleared out except for staff. The stage is empty except for the mic stand, a few amps, and a guitar. Not just any guitar but Ethan's guitar.
His blue eyes light up. "You want to be a rock star?"
I shake my head, but my feet have other ideas. I walk straight to the mic stand and look out at the empty auditorium. The place looked massive from backstage but this goes beyond massive.
This is insane.
How does he play when the room is packed? I can barely manage to stare at the empty seats without trembling.
Ethan slings his guitar over his shoulder. He motions to someone in the sound booth. His lips curl into a smile. "I know you know this one."
The lights go on. They're shades of blue and purple and there's a spotlight on me.
Familiar notes fill the room as Ethan strums his guitar. He's playing the intro to my favorite song, I'm Only Happy When it Rains, by Garbage.
His eyes meet mine as he starts the first verse.
Oh God, he wants me to sing it.
I shake my head. I can't sing on stage. I don't care that the venue is almost empty. The mic is still hooked up to the amp. Someone is going to hear me.
Ethan laughs as he starts the song over. He moves up to the backing vocals mic. "Vi, I've got all night."
"Doesn't New York City have quiet hours?"
"Volume is turned down low enough nobody outside can hear." His eyes light up as he smiles. "If you don't play rock star now, I'm gonna have to drag you on stage at our next show."
That sounds mortifying.
He raises a brow as he restarts the intro. All the joy i
n his expression flows into me.
I close my eyes as I let out the first line. Nerves rise up in my chest then settle. My voice gets louder. I pour my feelings into my performance.
This song deserves everything I've got.
By the second verse, I have my eyes open. I stare out at the empty seats with as much confidence as I can muster. I shift my hips, wrap my hands around the mic, and sing like I'm a fucking rock star.
When the song fades into the outro, Ethan looks at me. He speaks into the mic. "Crowd is demanding an encore after that." He cocks a brow. You game?
I nod. I am. This is fun.
He plays another Garbage song, I Think I'm Paranoid. I relax enough to sing every word with passion. Then he's playing another one of my favorite songs. Another. Another.
He plays and I sing until the stage manager, Jim, is motioning for us to cut the lights.
Ethan holds up his guitar and bows to the non-existent crowd. "Show's got to end sometime." He throws his guitar pic into the stands then he pulls another from his pocket and presses it into my palm. "You make a good rock star."
"No, I don't." I intertwine my fingers with his. "But it's fun pretending."
The next day, I show Ethan around all my favorite touristy landmarks—the mecca of commercialism that is Times Square, the tranquil sanctuary of Central Park, the gorgeous views from the Empire State Building—then I move on to secluded spots—the Strand bookstore, real New York bagels, the view from the top of the NYU student center.
In his heavy coat and a Yankees cap, Ethan blends in enough he isn't recognized. It's a rainy, grey day, but my heart is floating on blue skies and sunshine. Everything, even getting caught in the pouring rain on our way back to the subway (I'm too stubborn to take a cab), is fun with Ethan.
Life is fun when he's around.
I'm alive when he's around.
The four-block walk from the subway to my apartment is cold and windy, but with his arm around my waist and his smile lighting up my heart, I don't feel the chill.
My hands are wet. I fumble over my keys. Ah, there.
I look back to Ethan as I press the key between my palms. "We haven't talked about what happens tomorrow."
"Something you want to say?"
I nod. "Stay here with me. Until your next show."
"The show is Monday. You sure you want me here all weekend?"
I nod. "I need you here all weekend." I press my forehead to his. "Promise you'll stay."
His voice is sweet, earnest. "You need me here?"
"Yes."
"Then I promise I'll be here." He presses his lips to mine.
I sigh as I pull back. Ethan will be here, in my apartment, all weekend. We have a whole weekend to explore New York City and to christen my bed as ours.
This is good.
No, this is great.
I turn the lock, open the door for Ethan, and step inside.
Athena is sitting in our tiny living room on the couch. Her long hair is in a ponytail. She's wearing makeup—something she never does when she's home alone.
She takes us in with a knowing look. "You were right. He is hotter in person. Especially as a Yankees fan."
Ethan laughs as he takes his baseball cap off. "Afraid I prefer the Angels."
"That's okay. Different leagues. Besides, we could kick your ass any day of the week."
"Those are fighting words," he says.
"Bring it on." She holds up her hands as fists in a playful let's go stance. "I'm not a guitarist. I don't have to worry about my hands." She winks at me. "Though, I guess Violet worries about your hands too so—"
"Oh God." My cheeks turn red. I hide behind my hands for a moment then I collect my senses. "Athena, this is Ethan. Ethan, this is Athena. She lives right there." I point to her door. "She goes to NYU too, but undergrad."
They shake hands and exchange hellos.
She turns to me. Her voice shifts to that tone that means she's up to something. "You know, Violet, it's rude to ignore your best friend." Athena looks to Ethan with approval. "I understand your reasons, but I can't excuse them. I just want you to know that you earned the embarrassment you're about to receive."
Oh God.
Ethan's eyes light up. "Did she?"
"Oh, she did." Athena leans against the wall. Her eyes meet Ethan's. "The first time we talked about you, it was because I caught sight of Violet's 'Dangerous Noise' Google alert. I was gushing about how hot your lead singer is—"
Ethan laughs. "We get that a lot."
"The way he sings all breathy and groaning. It's—" She fans herself. "I know he's your brother, but you must realize it."
Again, Ethan laughs.
"Violet let me go on and on. She sat there nodding, until she blurted out that the two of you used to date."
Ethan laughs. "Did she?"
"Turns out, she also has a Google alert just for you."
Ethan looks at me. He raises a brow to say is this true?
I keep my lips zipped. It's bad enough my cheeks are burning.
"I had to talk her down a few times after she saw you photographed with a lingerie model." Athena laughs. "She was so jealous I thought she'd turn green."
"You were jealous?" Ethan's voice is earnest.
I clear my throat. "Well, it's only natural—"
"Don't play dumb. You probably hoped she'd get jealous. Didn't you?" Athena folds her arms.
"Did you?" I ask.
"Honestly, Vi, I assumed you were over me."
"Really?" I ask.
He nods.
"I wasn't," I say.
"You should have seen the way she tried to tell herself she liked that Denny guy." Athena shakes her head. "He was more boring than plain toast."
"Oh yeah?" Ethan asks.
"Yeah, total white bread, no butter, nothing," Athena says.
"He was nice." I fold my arms. That's really all he was.
"She could have done better you know." Athena looks at Ethan. "Whenever we go out, Violet has to turn down at least a dozen guys. They love that hot goth chick who won't take your shit thing."
"I'm sure you do alright on that front," Ethan says.
"Alright?" Athena looks to me and winks. "He better be as good in bed as you say he is to treat your friends this way."
"Oh God." Hiding behind my hands does nothing to help me here.
Ethan smiles.
My break from mockery is short lived. Athena blows me a kiss and goes right back to embarrassing me.
"Once, she scribbled out a model's face on a tabloid page. It was really tacky." Athena mouths I love you to me.
My blush spreads to my chest. I have to hide behind my hands. "I got that magazine at the dentist."
"That doesn't make it right," she says.
"I hate you," I mutter.
"I hate you too." She moves in for a hug and squeezes tight. Her voice drops to a whisper. "You really okay with him here?"
"Yeah."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure."
She pulls back and shoots Ethan a knowing smile. "I'll get out of your hair for a few hours. This project is kicking my ass. I'll concentrate better at the library." She packs her laptop in her messenger back and steps into her boots.
"Thanks," Ethan says. "Owe you one."
"You could send us tickets to a show. Your band is just okay, but Sinful Serenade is fucking awesome. And their drummer is so…" Athena fans her face.
"You know he's got a cock piercing," Ethan says.
Her eyes bug out of her face. "I thought that was just a rumor."
"Rumor's true," Ethan says.
Athena blushes.
Ah, at least she's suffering embarrassment too.
"Damn." She winks at me then looks at Ethan. "Drummers are the hottest."
He laughs. "Are they?"
"Oh yeah. But guitarists aren't bad either. And Violet speaks very highly of your skill with your hands," she says.
Ethan looks to me and smiles.
I'm blushing so hard my entire body is burning.
She pulls him into a close hug and whispers something I can't hear. He whispers back.
Athena nods goodbye as she steps out the door. "Be good or be discreet!"
"You too."
The door slams shut behind her. It's one of those doors that always slams.
Ethan gives me a long once over. "We have a few hours."
"We do."
"You want to eat first?"
"No."
He smiles. "Me either."
Chapter 33
Ethan
The tiny bedroom is pure Violet. Black bedspread and sheets, glittery rose decals on the walls, stacks of sci-fi DVDs piled high on her dresser.
Four math posters hang over her desk. One has a triangle with a hippo lying on the hypotenuse. Another has a pi symbol telling the square root of negative one to get real. Honestly, I'd have no idea what it meant if didn't own a t-shirt with the same design.
She catches me looking at her posters and blushes. "I'm still a math geek."
"I love that you're a math geek." I love that she has a place where she can be herself.
I love that she's inviting me into it.
It's difficult to resist pinning her to the wall immediately. I do it for long enough Violet can explain the jokes on her other math posters and show off her sci-fi collection.
I unbutton her coat and slide it over her shoulders. She does the same to me. Her lips find mine.
I kiss her with every ounce of hunger in my body. Being in her room is making me dizzy. It's a good dizzy. A this is intimate enough to last forever dizzy.
She digs her fingers into my hair as she moans into my mouth. Violet has always been a hell of a kisser, but she's more passionate now. She's giving more of herself.
I scoop her into my arms and lay her on the bed. Her groans vibrate down my throat. She rocks her hips against mine.
I peel off her boots, her jeans, her socks. I drag my hands up her calves and over the smooth skin of her thighs.
Her eyes get heavy with lust. "Ethan." She pulls me into a deep kiss. "You need to be naked now."
"You first."
Dangerous Kiss (Dangerous Noise Book 1) Page 22