Downbeat

by Jodie Larson

  I stare, stunned. “How’d you know it was my birthday?”

  He taps his temple. “I know everything.” I quirk a brow, which only makes him laugh. “The white button on your dress last night. I know that’s what they give to the VIP birthday guests.”

  “VIPs? Really? But, I’m a nobody.”

  Pax gets closer, threading his fingers through my hair and cupping my cheek, tilting my head so I have nowhere else to look but his eyes.

  “You are not a nobody. You’re a somebody, especially to me.”

  I flush, heat coating everything north of my toes. How can he say stuff like that? We barely know each other. Sure we flirt shamelessly, but it’s harmless. Only because I know there’s no chance in hell a guy like him will go for a girl like me.

  Feeling eyes on us, I pull away. We don’t need to make a spectacle with all these little kids around.

  Clearing my throat, I bite my lip and look around. “What should we do first?”

  Pulling a twenty out of his wallet, he walks over to the machine and grabs our tokens. “Whatever you want.”

  Skeeball is calling my name. It was my favorite. Probably because my dad always helped me throw the balls to get the big points in the corner.

  We manage to find two lanes open next to each other. Pax drops in the tokens for both of us and the balls roll down with the start-up music playing in the background.

  “Winner picks the next game?” he asks.

  Oh, he’s going down. “You’re on.”

  Wrong. So very, very wrong. Here I thought my experience as a six-year-old child would help me. Apparently not. Pax sinks ball after ball into the 100-point holes while I can’t get higher than 30. Every time I try for the corners, I miss and the ball rolls to the bottom, giving me a lousy 10 points.

  “Winner, winner, chicken dinner,” Pax gloats. He starts to do the Cabbage Patch and I can’t help but laugh at his ridiculousness. Tickets come streaming out. His ten to my measly two. Maybe at the end, we can combine them for two pencil erasers.

  “Yeah, yeah. Okay, winner, winner. What next?”

  A gleam shines in his hazel eyes. “Oh, I know.” Grabbing my hand again—I won’t complain—he drags me across the room where some sort of band game is set up.

  “Pick your poison,” he says, grabbing the drumsticks and sitting behind the digital set.

  “Oh, so you meant pick my poison other than those?”

  Pax shrugs. “Naturally.”

  Let’s see: a microphone or a guitar. Wow, those are terrible choices. I’m not about to sing in front of a bunch of strangers. I refuse to even do karaoke for drunk people. Though this would be better. Kids aren’t as judgmental. And odds are I don’t know anyone in here, nor will I run into them anywhere else. And since I’ve never played a guitar before…

  “That a girl,” Pax says behind me as I grab the microphone.

  “Whatever.” Quivers roll my stomach, almost to the point where I think I may puke. “What song?”

  He twirls the stick in his hand. Wow, he’s really good at that. “Your pick since you need to sing.”

  I scroll through the selection, finally recognizing “Should I Stay or Should I Go” by The Clash. Something my dad used to play when I was little. I smile and look over my shoulder. Pax is grinning.

  Oh crap. This is going to go as well as skeeball.

  After missing the first few notes, I find my groove, completely ignoring the kids surrounding us. Paxton is kicking my ass. Every once in a while, I sneak a peek and he’s perfectly in his element, at home behind the fake drum set.

  To no one’s surprise, I lost. The kids around us cheer as Pax stands and takes a bow. I put the mic back and turn to face him.

  “Play this a lot?”

  He chews his bottom lip and shrugs. “I dabble a little.”

  “Uh-huh. You seemed pretty at home back there.”

  “I like to play.” He takes the stick and taps the drum.

  I start laughing. “Okay, Garth, let’s go find something I can kick your ass in.”

  Yeah, there wasn’t anything I could beat him at.

  Glancing at my watch, I cringe when I realize how late it’s gotten. “Damn, I need to head home.” We still have to stop back at his place to grab my purse and clothes.

  Pax nods and lifts up his fistful of tickets. “First, prizes.”

  The ride back to his place was just as enjoyable as it was to the arcade. I can see the appeal as a woman to ride on the back of a bike. Your hands are constantly in contact with finely toned abs and the gentle vibration underneath really gets you going. Not that I can do anything about it. Not yet. Tonight, though. Tonight, I’ll have plenty of fodder for my imagination with Pax taking center stage.

  After gathering my things, I pull out my phone and am almost sad that no one called or messaged me. I guess it’s only been a few hours, so Jenny and Jayce are still at their park date. Probably for the best. He’ll sleep well.

  “Need a ride?” Pax asks, leaning against the counter in the kitchen,

  I shake my head. “I’ll get an Uber.”

  Draining his bottle of water in only a few gulps, he tosses it in the recycling bin and grabs his keys. “Wrong answer. Come on, I’ll bring you home.”

  I try to argue, but he holds his hand over my mouth, grinning like he’s already won whatever battle I was going to put up.

  “Come on. I’ll behave, promise.”

  I’ve heard that line before. Only this time, I believe him.

  We go slow down the road to my house, mainly so he can hear the directions. Part of me thinks it’s because he wants to elongate our time together. I wouldn’t fault him if he did. Our time together changed how I look at him. He’s no longer the stranger who flirts at work. Hell, I wouldn’t mind if he became more.

  He parks the bike in front of the house, shutting off the engine and leaving us in silence.

  I climb off the bike, already missing his body pressing against mine. “This is it.”

  Pax takes my helmet and places it in the compartment in the rear of the bike. Swinging his leg over, he joins me on the sidewalk with his hands shoved into his pockets.

  He looks up and down the street. “Nice neighborhood. Very quiet.”

  I nod. “Yeah, I’ve lived here most of my life.” Please don’t ask if I live with my parents.

  Instead, he takes a step closer, pushing his aviators on top of his head. Bright hazel eyes smile down at me, drawing me closer.

  As if on autopilot, my body takes over. Pax brings his hand to my cheek, running it along the crest until he threads his fingers into my hair—just like he did at the arcade. My heart kicks up a notch or two, practically beating out of my chest.

  I lick my lips. Pax’s gaze follows the movement. He takes a step closer until our feet are practically tangled together.

  Closing my eyes, I tilt my head and wait. Within seconds, Pax’s lips are on mine, softly moving from top to bottom, cradling them with such gentle movements. I moan and relax even more, opening my mouth so he can deepen the kiss.

  Stars spark behind my closed lids as his tongue sweeps through my mouth, knowing exactly how I like to be kissed. It’s as if we’ve been doing this most of our lives. Bringing my arms up, I wrap them around his neck, pulling us closer.

  If I don’t stop this soon, things will get out of control and I’ve had enough of that this weekend.

  Reluctantly, I break our kiss, missing his lips the minute I pull away. Paxton smiles and runs his hand through my hair again, this time tucking the strands behind my ear.

  “I’m glad you’re okay. Thanks for spending the day with me.”

  I blush and put some distance between us. “Thanks for saving me. I owe you one.”

  “Never. I’ll always be there to save you.”

  Not sure how he can say that, but I’ll let him believe it for now.

  I pick up the bag I dropped in the heat of the moment and start walking backward to the door.


  “Will you be in tomorrow?” I ask, hope evident in my voice.

  “You better believe it.” He gives a wink and sits back on his bike. “See you later.”

  With that, he starts his motorcycle and takes off down the road.

  Well, that was a turn of events. What could have been a tragedy turned into one of my better birthdays ever.

  I barely feel the ground as I walk to the front door, though it’s short-lived. Jenny whips it open as I reach for the handle.

  “Holy shit, tell me you did not just do that.”

  Drawing my brows together, I push past her and drop my purse on the front table. “Do what? You told me to talk to a member of the opposite sex. I did. And then some.”

  Jenny follows me through the house, including my bedroom as I try to close the door on her.

  “You failed to mention who you were shacking up with.”

  I turn and place my hands on my hips. “First off, I wasn’t ‘shacking up’ with anyone. Two, you wouldn’t know him so what does it matter?”

  She jerks her head back. “Are you kidding?” I stare blankly at her. “Oh, my God. You’re not.” Jenny takes my hand and sits us on the edge of the bed. “Kylie, I love you, but you’re such a blonde sometimes.”

  “Okay, kettle, how about you explain it then.”

  In all seriousness, Jenny grabs my hands. “Paxton isn’t your typical guy.”

  It takes me a few seconds to process her words. “How did you… I never told you his name.”

  “Wait here.” Jenny disappears but returns with her phone in hand. She has her music app pulled up and an album cover taking up her screen. I squint as I try to figure out why she’s showing me this picture.

  Then I see it. I don’t recognize the two guys in front, but the one on the left side is Brecken and the one on the right, with the dirty blond hair and eyes that I know are hazel, is Paxton.

  Lightning Strikes. His band.

  His band!

  No wonder he looked comfortable behind that drum set. It’s his job.

  My lungs deflate like someone had knocked the wind right out of me. He’s famous. And I had no idea.

  Shock runs through me as I stare at the picture.

  Well, he’s definitely different.

  The clock won’t move.

  Showing up outside the door right as the shop opens is too obvious. But this wait is killing me. What’s the appropriate waiting period to walk into a place of business and kiss the barista senseless because it’s all you can think about?

  Those lips, all luscious and sweet, like the finest candy only a million times better. I can’t stop imagining them. Every ounce of my body wants to do nothing but kiss her all day and night, marking her as mine.

  Mine.

  I’ve never been territorial. Nor do I believe women are possessions. But the thought of anyone else having her, tasting those sweet ruby lips sends me over the edge.

  Glancing at the clock again, I tap my foot against the rung of the stool.

  6:14

  Shit.

  Brecken walks into the kitchen, scratching his head. “Why are you staring at the clock?”

  The rhythmic tapping of my foot almost drowns out his question. “I need time to speed up.”

  “Seriously? Just go down there and talk to her. You spent most of yesterday with her, not to mention brought her home the night before. Shouldn’t you be past the whole ‘Does she like me or not’ crap?”

  If only it were that simple. At the arcade, I gave myself away, something I swore not to do. Kylie has no idea who I am, which means I can be a regular guy around her. Yesterday was amazing. She looked at me with no pretense or expectation. I haven’t had that in years. Even back in Kansas City, people knew who the Lightning Strikes were and wanted in on the attention.

  She’s different. I know I can’t keep the truth from her forever, but it’s tempting to keep us safe in our little bubble for as long as possible.

  “Can’t. We have that interview this morning.”

  Brecken pops a coffee pod into the machine and leans against the counter, arms crossed. “If you left now, you’d be back in time.”

  I shake my head. “No, because I’d want to stay there and talk to her all morning long. Even if she had customers coming to her counter every few seconds.”

  The asshole smiles. “You’re smitten.”

  “You’ve been with Lizzie too long. Lay off the cat videos, will you?” Who the fuck says shit like that?

  Breck, apparently.

  “Admit it.”

  “You’re such a chick.” I grab an apple from the fruit bowl and bite into it, delaying my answer. “Yeah, I like her. We all know it. I’m trying to play it right, not push or take things too fast. She’s not into the spotlight, which is refreshing in this town. I don’t want to scare her off before dragging her into our crazy world.”

  Breck grabs his mug and stands across the center island from me, resting his forearms against the granite countertop. “How long do you think you can keep this up?”

  That’s the ten-million-dollar question. “As long as I can.”

  Why do we even bother with interviews anymore? Every single one is the same, minus the location. Same questions, same fake enthusiasm, same ass-kissing.

  The whole time I had my smile plastered on, I kept thinking about Kylie and her stories about doing the same thing at work. Soon enough, my fake one turned into something real. That girl could bring a smile to my face at a funeral.

  As soon as the interview is done, we go our separate ways before our afternoon meeting with the label, giving me a solid few hours to spend at Grounded and see the woman who occupies my thoughts.

  Once again, the annoying bell chimes above my head, though I’m barely noticing it anymore. Only a few people in line, which is fine. Means I can watch her work, which is a thing of beauty.

  She hasn’t noticed me yet because she’s so focused on working the machines and greeting the next person in line with her fake, cheery voice.

  Until I’m one person away. I move my aviators to the brim of my hat and shove my hands into my pockets right when we finally connect. I smile wide, showing my teeth, conveying how truly happy I am to see her.

  Something flashes in her eyes. The levity in her features turns to unease. She’s nervous, almost scared. What the hell?

  The guy in front of me orders a plain black coffee. Kylie takes her time pouring the order and double checking the lid before handing it off to him. The stranger gives an unamused grunt before turning and exiting the shop, leaving the two of us with a fog of uncertainty hanging low in the air.

  Kylie looks up, the normal light in her eyes is gone, and plasters on the fake smile she uses for everyone else. “Welcome to Grounded. Can I take your order?”

  This can’t be good. What the hell changed from last night to today?

  “Uh, Kylie? You okay?”

  She taps the side of the computer screen, her bottom lip pulled tightly into her teeth. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Her voice is quiet, timid, and very unlike her.

  “Look, I don’t know what I did, but whatever it was, I’m sure I didn’t mean it.” I have no idea what I’m apologizing for. She hasn’t accused me of anything and to my knowledge, I haven’t done anything wrong.

  Except that one thing.

  Crap. She must have found out. And it wasn’t from me.

  Digging through her apron, she pulls out her phone, clicks a few buttons and twirls the screen to face me. There, plain as day, is a picture of the four of us on stage. One of our last concerts of the tour.

  “This you?”

  I honestly didn’t think she’d get this upset about it. “I can explain.”

  She shoves the phone back into her apron and frowns. “Look, I think you’re really sweet, but this will never work. You should find a different place to get your coffee from now on.”

  No. No, no, no, no. This isn’t happening.

  “Kylie,” I say, reaching out to grab
her hand. The coolness of her skin practically burns me. “Please, listen to me. Hear me out.”

  The girl I saw at the bar on Saturday comes out the back, sporting a similar frown on her face.

  “Is there a problem?” she asks.

  I shake my head, turning my focus back to Kylie. “Let me explain.”

  Kylie purses her lips, clearly at war with herself. “Why should I give you a chance?”

  Tentatively, I take a step forward. “Because there’s something between us. I know you felt it. Please. Give me five minutes. If you don’t want to see me again after that, I’ll leave you alone. But you have to hear me out.”

  She turns to the other girl, who silently nods. “Okay.” Kylie takes off her apron and stashes it behind the counter. “Five minutes.”

  I blow out a quick breath and walk to a table in the back corner. Luckily, no one was inside to witness our little stand-off. The less attention brought to us the better.

  Kylie pulls out a chair across from me, arms tightly crossed over her stomach. A defensive stance. She’s protecting herself.

  “Explain.”

  She wants the truth, deserves the truth. I take off my hat and set it on the table, running my hands through my hair to calm my worried mind.

  “When we first met, you didn’t know who I was. It was refreshing because you saw me as a human, the real me, not the fake person I am on stage or the person people want to use to gain status. I didn’t want to tell you because it’s been so long since I’ve had someone really see me. Then we started talking more and I couldn’t tell you.” I take a breath, trying to gauge her anger. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my job, love most things about it. Ever since I was a kid, I’ve dreamed of being a rock star. But if you ask me now, I still consider myself a regular guy. I want to play video games, eat street food, and hang at the beach. Maybe teach this Midwestern guy how to surf.”

  The beginnings of a smile threaten to crack her stone demeanor as her lip twitches in the corner. I think I’m getting through to her.

  Kylie opens her mouth, and for a brief moment, I hold my breath, torn between preparing for an onslaught of curse words or some semblance of understanding.