“Nothing,” he says, but his eyes are hard. “Not when that’s what both people want.”
I feel the sharp sting of rejection. “And you don’t want me, that’s what you’re saying?” I snap, pulling the rest of the way out of his arms.
“Of course I want you,” he practically growls. “But not if you can’t be real with me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It would be more than a hookup, and you know it.”
“Oh, God.” I cross my arms. “What do you want from me, Lennon? You want some declaration of my feelings? This isn’t a Victorian romance novel.”
If I thought his voice went cold before, it was nothing to the way it sounds now. “You know that’s not what I’m saying. I don’t do bullshit, Haylee, and I don’t do lies.”
“So you’re calling me a liar?”
“You’re not being honest about us right now. We’re more than a hookup, and you know it.”
“Well, I don’t want more than a hookup,” I say, my voice sharp. I feel like I’m about to start crying, which is so stupid. This entire thing is stupid. And my buzz is completely gone. “I need a drink,” I mutter, looking around for the waiter.
His face hardens. “Why did you start drinking so much tonight?”
“Oh my God.” I glare at him. “You don’t get to lecture me.”
He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’re right. But you don’t get to use alcohol as an excuse to get with me guilt free.”
I take a step back, feeling stung. Is that what he thinks this is?
Before I can respond, he’s turning to go. “Take care of yourself, Haylee. I’ll see you around.”
“Lennon,” I call after him, but my voice sounds strangled, and he doesn’t turn. I watch as he weaves through the dancing crowd, his shoulders hunched. I don’t look away until he’s out of sight, disappearing into the darkness of the club. I have only one thought.
He’s completely right about me.
Chapter Eleven
Lennon
We spend the first morning of our week in Paris at the venue, taking a tour and meeting the production team that we’ll work with for the broadcast. They take us up into the balcony so we can get a sense of the size of the stage. It looks small from up here even though I know that the venue, though not the biggest we’ve ever played in, is larger than what we usually play. I lean against the railing and wonder if Haylee has ever played anything bigger then feel angry at myself for thinking about her so much.
“Hey, Len,” Levi says, joining me at the railing. “Karen wanted me to ask you to lunch.”
I cock an eyebrow at him. “Really? You haven’t seen her in weeks, and her first full day with the tour—her first full day in the most romantic city in the world—and she wants to have lunch with me?” I smirk at him. “What’d you do to piss her off?”
He makes a face at me. “Lunch with you isn’t exactly my top choice, bud, but for reasons that I can’t quite comprehend, she says she misses you.”
I grin at that. I like Karen. Like her for Levi. When she came out on tour with us last summer she changed him, transforming him from an uptight worrier (mostly my fault) to someone who could actually have some fun once in a while.
“Sure,” I say. “Lunch sounds good.”
We meet Karen back at the hotel and walk the few blocks to a cafe the concierge recommended. We’re staying in the Latin Quarter, and the neighborhood is littered with restaurants, patisseries, and cafes. The smell of baking croissant is pretty much ubiquitous.
“I can’t believe I’m in Paris,” Karen says, looking around happily. “You know, before I met you guys I’d never been farther away from home than Atlanta.”
“I’m just happy we have the chance to actually spend some time here this time,” Levi says. He has his arm wrapped loosely over her shoulders, and every once in a while he’ll reach up to finger her hair. I wonder what it would feel like to be that comfortable with Haylee. Stupid to think about, I tell myself. She would never want to be in that kind of relationship with you.
“You’re spacing, buddy,” Karen says, reaching for her wine glass.
“Sorry.” I blink a few times to clear my head. “What’d you say?”
“I asked if you had the chance to see much of the city on the last tour.”
“A little bit,” I say, determined not to think about Haylee anymore. It’s nice that Karen is here. Levi looks happy, and God knows he deserves a little happiness. I don’t want to waste the day being mopey. “It’s a really cool city. Probably my favorite in Europe.”
“What’s the best thing to do?”
“If you like art museums, this is the place,” I say.
I expect her to make a face, the way my brothers do when the subject comes up, but she sits a little straighter. “Do you think they have anything showcasing photography?”
“I’m sure they do. Why?”
“Karen’s really getting interested in photography,” Levi says, his chest puffing out a little bit. “She’s great.”
She looks down at the table. Is she blushing? “Karen Simpson,” I say in mock shock. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you shy.”
“Shut the hell up,” she mutters, and I grin.
“That sounds more like you.” I grab another piece of bread from the basket. “I’m sure we can find something.”
“To be honest, I bet Paige already has the entire week planned out,” she says, grimacing at me. “I heard her saying she was picking something special for each of us.”
“Oh, God,” Levi says.
“We have a lot of work to do,” I remind him. “I don’t think we’ll be able to run around the city with Paige every day.”
“I’m sure she’ll find a way.”
Our food arrives, and we eat in silence for a minute. This is one of my favorite things about Paris, even more than the museums. Their culture of food—the predominance of restaurants, the focus on good wine, the way they linger over their meals, talking for hours—I love that.
“So, Len,” Karen says after a few bites. “What’s with this girl you’re in love with?”
I choke on my croque monsieur, and Levi pounds me on the back while I cough.
“Sorry,” Karen says, pushing my glass of water toward me. But she’s smiling.
“Who told you I was in love with her?” I ask when my eyes finally stop watering. “Because I’m not. We barely know each other.”
“You’ve hung out about as long as Sam and Cash did,” she points out.
I scowl, not really having an answer for that.
“Come on,” she says. “It’s just us.”
“I can’t imagine why I wouldn’t want to talk about my love life with the girl who tells Paige everything.”
“I do not tell Paige everything. I wouldn’t tell her this.”
“You haven’t really talked about it, man,” Levi adds. “And you’ve seemed a little down about it.”
I sigh, pushing my sandwich away. “Fine. She’s… I like her. We get along and…” I have a fleeting thought of the way her lips felt on mine and swallow. “Anyhow. She’s not interested in a relationship, so it doesn’t really matter.”
“She told you that?” Karen asks.
I nod.
“She didn’t look not interested in the club the other night,” Levi says, and Karen’s eyes light up.
“Flirtations in a club? Details. Now.”
“You really are as bad as Paige and Daisy,” I say. “Fine. We slept together back in England, and it was… it was pretty great.” I rub a hand across the back of my neck, uncomfortable. I was never really the type to share information like this. Probably a reaction to being grossed out by Cash’s oversharing in his really bad man-whoring days.
“Pretty great, huh?” Karen asks, waggling her eyebrows. “You want to elaborate?”
“No,” I say sharply. Then I sigh. “But after that she pulled away. Said we should just be friends.”
“Which still doesn’t explain the club,” Levi says.
“We went out dancing in Barcelona the other night—”
“God, I’m jealous I didn’t get to go to Barcelona,” Karen interrupts. “Was it amazing?”
“You want me to talk about this or not?”
“Sorry, sorry,” she says quickly. “Go on.”
“So we were out dancing and… I don’t know. There was a spark.” I think of the way she felt in my arms, the way her eyes remained so fixed on my lips as we danced. The way her skin felt like it was burning my palms whenever I touched her.
“Definitely a spark,” Levi adds. “They looked like they were gonna go to town on each other in the middle of the dance floor.”
“So what happened?” Karen asks.
“She asked me to take her back to my room.”
“What?” Levi practically yelps, sitting up straighter. “Why didn’t you go?”
I give him a withering look. “You look like a pre-teen at a slumber party right now, Levi. Chill.”
“I don’t even care.” He shoves a piece of bread in his mouth. “You Ransome boys are better than a soap opera.”
I direct my attention to Karen so I don’t have to see my best friend talking with his mouth full. “And then, in the next breath, she told me it would just be a one-night thing.” What words did she use? Friends with benefits. I grimace at the table.
“And you wanted more,” Karen says.
“Well, yeah. But it wasn’t just…” I sigh. “I mean, I’m a guy. She’s totally hot, and you know, the sex was…” I rub my hands over my face. “God, this is uncomfortable. I probably would have hooked up with her, honestly. But…”
“But what?” Karen asks, her voice soft.
I stare out at the people passing the cafe, the city vibrant and crowded around us. “It was like… she wanted me, you know? I could tell. But as soon as that became clear, she started drinking. A lot.”
Karen frowns. “You didn’t want to take advantage?”
“No, it wasn’t… I mean, of course I didn’t want to take advantage but…” It’s hard to describe what it felt like out on that dance floor. “It was like she wasn’t drunk,” I finally say. “Like, I was watching her drinking—really drinking, she could put Cash under the table—but she didn’t really change.” I shake my head, knowing that isn’t exactly right. “I guess she was laughing a little harder, maybe touching me more. But it… it didn’t feel real.”
“She was pretending to be drunk?” Levi asks, frowning.
“I don’t know. It felt like she was using the booze as an excuse.” I look between them. “Does that make sense? Like she couldn’t let herself want me otherwise but once she had some drinks in her, it was okay to flirt.”
“Hmm,” Karen says, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I wonder why she would feel like she couldn’t just be with you if that’s what she wanted.”
I take another few bites of my sandwich, thinking. “When we hooked up, her friend James—the bassist,” I tell Karen, “he came to the door later, woke us up. He wasn’t very happy about the situation.”
“Why? Do they have something going?”
I shake my head. “No. Not that I can tell. But… I don’t know. He told her she could get hurt, and I guess she agreed with him, because when she came back to the room she could hardly look at me. And then she pulled away after that.” I take a sip of water, not wanting to voice the thing that’s been bothering me. “Do you think it’s possible she heard about… August? You think that’s why she doesn’t want to be with me?”
“If that’s true, then she’s a bitch and I don’t want you to be with her,” Karen says, her voice harsh.
“I wouldn’t blame her,” I mutter. “I mean, come on. Who wants to date the crazy guy who—”
“Do not finish that sentence, Lennon,” Karen says. “I’m not going to let you talk shit about yourself.”
“Besides, man,” Levi says. “I really don’t see how she could find out.”
“You don’t think there are rumors?” I ask, eyebrows high. “Come on, Levi. We’re on tour with them. Roadies talk. Fans talk. I bet there are a dozen websites dedicated to figuring out what happened in August.”
“There’s a ton of talk,” he concedes. “But none of it has come close to hitting on the truth.” When he speaks again his voice is kind. “We monitor this stuff, Len.”
My stomach sinks at the thought of some intern somewhere whose sole job is to scour the internet to see what people are saying about me.
“I don’t think she could possibly know,” Levi continues. “But even if she did find out somehow… Len, does she really strike you as the type of person who would judge you for that?”
When I met her back in Los Angeles, my very first thought was that this was a girl who understood pain. There was something in her eyes then, something I’d been catching glimpses of ever since, something that told me she would understand what I’d done if I ever came up with the courage to tell her. And then, at the party, when she told me what happened with her stalker, it was obvious in her tone and behavior that the incident had a profound effect on her. And of course there was that night after the show in Glasgow, the way she went to pieces when that fan touched her. What did she tell me in Edinburgh? I’m really fucked up.
“No,” I finally say. “I guess I don’t.”
“Look, Lennon,” Karen says, leaning across the table a little to better meet my eyes. “If she’s someone that you care about, someone that might make you happy, then she’s worth an effort. A relationship like that is worth it, it just is.”
I think Levi must squeeze her hand under the table because she shoots him a quick smile before returning her gaze to mine.
“But if she’s not someone that can be honest with you—or if you feel like you can’t be honest with her—then this probably isn’t what you need right now, you know?”
I nod. Everything she’s saying is true. I worked too hard to get to the point where I am to risk my recovery on someone who can’t be open with me. Even if the thought of shutting her out makes me feel completely numb.
“I hear you’re doing really well these days.”
I glance up at her, ready to laugh, but her face is completely serious. “Who told you that?”
“I did,” Levi says.
“Why?”
The corners of his mouth tug up a little bit. “Because you are. You can’t see that?”
I shrug, feeling uncomfortable. I’ve been playing the role of the fucked-up one for so long now, it’s hard to imagine someone seeing me in any other way.
“You’re obviously sleeping better,” he says. “Because you don’t have those shadows under your eyes anymore. And you’ve put on weight, so you don’t look so scrawny anymore.” It’s his turn to shrug. “And you just seem like you’re enjoying yourself more.”
Am I enjoying myself more? The thought crosses my mind that any positive change he might be seeing in me might have something to do with proximity to Haylee.
“If you think she’s someone that can make you happy,” Karen says, as if reading my mind, “I’m all about you going for it.” Her voice lowers a little, intense. “And if that’s the case, there’s no one more capable of helping you than me.”
“Really?” Levi asks, smirking. “You make it sound like you’re part of some kind of relationship special forces.”
“If there’s one thing Paige and I know,” she says, shooting him a withering glare, “it’s how to get the girl.”
“And how would you know that?”
“Because we have watched every romantic comedy ever made,” she says simply. “We’re experts.” She turns away from a still smirking Levi to look at me. “I mean it, Len. You want this girl, I got some game. That’s all I’m saying.”
I can’t help laughing, she looks so entirely serious. “Thanks for the offer, Karen. I think I would want to try to practice my own game first.” I sigh. “Or not. Because
I think you might have been right about this not being the time.”
She nods, looking a little sad as she reaches across the table for my hand. “The time will come, Len. Maybe not with Haylee and maybe not right now. But it will come.”
Before I can respond, her phone rings.
“I thought we had a no phones at the table rule,” Levi complains as she reaches into her purse.
“We do, but this is Paige,” she says, as if that changes everything. “Hey, what’s up?”
I can hear Paige’s excited squealing from here. “That was today?” Karen asks, grimacing. “I thought—no, of course I trust you to keep track of your own schedule.” She sighs. “No, I did not mean to imply that you’re bad at planning. Fine. We’ll be right there.”
She hangs up and looks at us apologetically. “Guess who made plans for us today?”
“Why do we have to go?” Levi asks.
“Because she made plans for all of us,” Karen says, her voice turning dangerously sweet. “And you don’t want to be rude to my very best friend in the world, do you?”
“Of course not,” Levi sighs, reaching for his wallet.
“I got this,” I say, throwing down some bills.
“You know that paying for my lunch isn’t going to get you out of coming with us, right?” Karen asks.
“I wouldn’t dream of trying to bribe you.”
Karen grins, standing. “Good. ’Cause Paige said Intrigue is coming with us.”
***
Half an hour later we’re crowded into the tiny lobby of a building right across from the Seine. The amazing smells of food cooking drifts up to us from the basement, but my enjoyment of the atmosphere is dampened by the fact that there are thirteen people in a room obviously built for a much smaller number.
“What are we doing here, Paige?” Daisy asks, rubbing her swollen belly. “That smell is making me hungry.”
“You’ll get to eat soon,” Paige says happily. “Just wait!”
We don’t have to wait much longer. A woman Reed’s age enters from the basement and greets us. “Oh, good, you’re here,” she says in accented English. “Welcome to Paris Cuisine. I’m Marie, and I’ll be getting you set up today.”
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