Ardent Strangers

by Samantha Kately

  “Last night I thought it would be kind of edgy having a stalker song for our demo,” he says, “but given what you’ve told me today, I don’t know if this one’s a good idea.”

  “Weirdly, it helps,” I admit.

  “If it helps…” He nods, then smiles a fraction. “So that’s our demo, then?”

  “Yep.”

  “Let’s throw it on the site. We’ve got an hour until deadline.”

  Before we know it, we are engrossed in the Original Star website, which is going crazy with hits. Aaron is in control of the mouse, and its little arrow hovers over the ‘Submit demo’ button. We both share a look, and I see a rare moment of nerves pass through his eyes.

  “Press the submit button, Aaron!” I say, throwing my hands up.

  He nods, then takes his sweet time before giving the button a tap.

  I laugh, whacking him on the arm. I go quiet the second I see, “Congratulations on entering Original Star. Good Luck!” on the screen.

  It’s done. Now we wait.

  Aghh! I don’t know what to do with myself now the hype is over.

  Aaron glances over at me and I swear he’s feeling the same thing. He springs out of the chair and puts the kettle on. Needing the warmth, I accept the mug of tea. As I only own two mugs, he has given me the Mozart mug, which I hold tightly, my freezing hands winning the battle over the memory of my parents’ gift.

  We place the laptop on the coffee table and stare at the website with bloodshot eyes. There are only minutes and seconds left as the countdown ticks away to the deadline. At midnight, the thousand odd demos will become accessible to the voting public, heard and seen by millions of people. They will judge, post comments, and vote. I’m even worried that our band name might come under scrutiny, a last-minute decision inspired by our fake romance this afternoon.

  Ardent Strangers—I repeat our new name in my mind, letting it grow on me. Aaron thought it had a dark mysterious feel, like how we first met—how we were thrown together almost serendipitously under tragic circumstances. (The same could be said for Nathaniel and me, although I never mention that fact.)

  Annoyingly, Aaron seems fine, sipping his tea.

  “Nervous?” I ask him, wondering if he actually is.

  “A little,” he says, eyes glued to the screen. “You?”

  “Totally.”

  He grunts and sips his tea.

  I take his distraction as a moment to get something off my chest. “Can I tell you something?” I take his next grunt for a yes, then begin to ramble, “I can’t stop thinking about the other night with Nathaniel. When the ambulance workers arrived he’d had this outburst, explaining how he’d had just attended his friend’s funeral. He never told me.” I stare down at my tea, thinking back to the time I’d stood on the sidewalk and watched my parents’ crushed car, how Nathaniel couldn’t completely confide in me. “I was like the worst person to stop and help him. I mean, I’d been talking about attending a silly wedding. I feel like I let him down.”

  Aaron blinks tiredly but grabs the guitar beside him. “You didn’t.” He strums the start of our demo.

  “Did you know his friend by any chance?”

  Worst thing to say! Aaron has gone still, his gaze set darkly on the guitar. I’m close to leaping from the chair and locking myself in the bathroom.

  “I…” I breathe. “I’m sorry.”

  Aaron stands quietly, places the guitar against the sofa and walks to the unlit kitchen, the light from the living area casting it in shadows. He looks out the window, rinses his cup, then turns and hurls the hearts and flowers mug at the floor. Porcelain shatters in a loud explosion.

  I sit there, stunned, and sip my tea.

  Damn. I’ve just sipped out of my parents’ Mozart mug for the first time ever. Strangely, it seems almost insignificant compared to the sight of Aaron bent over the sink, clutching it with both hands. The man is in bare feet, surrounded by broken porcelain. And after the Jeremy attacks, I’m a little freaked out by men breaking things.

  Having no idea whether to flee or go to him, I find myself sneaking across the room and grabbing the broom before he bleeds everywhere. I hope I haven’t misread Aaron’s character completely.

  The sound of bristles sweeping up porcelain seems too loud, but I continue to sweep around him until I’ve collected every last fragment. I’m sweeping it into the trash when he clears his throat, and says gruffly, “His name was Damien. Nathaniel’s joint business partner and co-founder. My brother.”

  Brother? I clutch the broom for support, staring at the straining muscles along Aaron’s back. He is so quiet, so still.

  Did you know him, by any chance?! Why, oh why, did I say that?! Aaron’s been dealing with so much, yet he’s the one looking out for everyone—including me. Sure, Nathaniel might have lost a friend, but Aaron lost a brother.

  I step closer to Aaron, strong and imposing Aaron, and my heart aches for him. Fingers shaking, I lay my hand on his back, deciding whether to say I’m sorry. He’s so tense, I can barely stand it. I have this compulsion to hug him, hold him, because I doubt he’s let anyone near him since his brother died. He’d continued working. I guess he’d been distracting himself the way I had after my parents died. Three days later I’d returned to the café, mostly to get out of the house and away from the sympathy flowers, to forget for a while.

  “Evangeline,” he says, his voice a warning that I should back away fast. “Unless you want me to lay you down on that counter behind us and have my way with you, get your hand off me, because honestly that’s all the sympathy I can deal with right now.”

  Breathless, I stare at my hand between his heaving shoulder blades. “I…” What am I meant to say to that? (I should take my hand off him.) My hand remains right where it is. “I know you only said that to push me away, to shock me. I get it. But you can talk to—”

  “You don’t think I’m serious?” He turns, my hand ending up on his chest.

  “You’re serious?” I whisper. “You want that?” Could I do that? I’ve never had a one-night stand. My hormones must be wreaking havoc on my unconscious because I imagine his kiss.

  “Don’t tempt me.”

  I’m completely frozen, nervous. I need to know I can get past my fears of Jeremy, that not all men are jerks. Aaron might be angry, but it’s not directed at me. He’s been protecting me since we met. Jeremy had never done that once. This is different. Aaron is different. I keep telling myself until I realize it’s true. I reach up and run my finger along his lips.

  He raises a brow, then wastes no time in pulling my body flush against his and claiming my mouth. I feel it all: nerves, fear, lust, music, all wrapped in a tight bundle. He presses against me, and I’m distantly aware of my hands sliding up his chest. His kiss intensifies, and I moan into his mouth.

  “Do that again,” he murmurs.

  “Make me,” I whisper against his lips.

  He grunts, then kisses me tenderly. Even as he walks me backwards and parts the dishes on the counter, I can’t keep my mouth from his. He swiftly lifts me up onto its surface. His large hands grasp my rear, then slide up to the hem of my sweater, pulling it off. Seeing my black lace bra, his gaze darkens further, and as his hands skim my body I can’t resist leaning into his touch.

  “Christ, Evangeline. I don’t want to hurt you,” he says.

  “You won’t.” I hope. “Hurt me physically or emotionally?”

  “Both.”

  “I trust you.” I think? No, I do.

  Aaron eyes me sternly. “Are you sure about this?”

  “Yes.”

  His hands slide up my legs. “How long since…?”

  “Seven months.” I look away. “I haven’t trusted anyone—”

  “Hey, I didn’t know. We can stop—”

  “Until now.”

  A pained expression crosses his face. “I can’t give you a relationship now. You understand that, right?”

  “I don’t want to jeopardize the music or
the housemate thing either, but this is one night.”

  “It’s not that. I’m not in a good place right now.” The ache in his voice is horrible. He buries his head in my neck, and murmurs, “Damn, I want you.” Then his hands slide from my legs and he stumbles back as if he’s woken up from a bad dream.

  “Aaron,” I plead, sure he’s about to flee into his room.

  Aaron walks out of the kitchen, gripping his hair. He stops by the sofa, then mumbles something. I hug my chest, feeling the cool air sweep my skin. I’m partially naked—rejected.

  He storms back to the counter. “Tell me no.”

  I hold the challenge in his eyes, determined not to say a thing. He stands back and rips off my boots. I gasp as he grabs my hips and slides my leggings off in one clean sweep. I’ve never felt more aware of my body than when his eyes rake over me and fill with heat. Aaron’s hand trails over my breasts and down to my belly. I rise up onto my elbows to watch his fingers slip lower, shocked at how I come alive at his touch. My elbows give out and I collapse onto the countertop, watching him, wanting him.

  Aaron kicks his jeans and briefs to the floor and I see his impressive form. I’m kind of startled. How is this possibly going to work between us? My gaze travels up to his face.

  He grunts distractedly. “Don’t overthink it, Eve.”

  He’s right, of course. My smile turns to a gasp as he settles between my legs and he consumes me for the first time. Honestly, I’m scared to move.

  He reaches down and rubs his thumb soothingly against my jaw. “You okay?”

  I nod a little too rapidly. “Go.”

  As he moves us slowly back and forth, we both moan softly. He repeats the action with the same excruciating control, and I think I’m becoming addicted to the feeling. His dark gaze roams over my face and to the bounce of my body, and I lose track of how long we keep up this intense pace. Writhing, I reach for the edge of the counter, sending who knows what crashing to the floor.

  A light sweat glistens over his face and neck, and his shirt is gone in seconds. There’s a small scar above his right nipple—a bullet wound? I try not to slow at the sight of it, but there are two similar wounds on his lower ribcage, a long scar passing beneath them.

  This man is scarred in too many ways. I’m starting to understand why he needs to leave it all behind and have this dream of music, no matter how transient it may be. As we move together in sync, I want that dream for him, and as part of our duo I might even be able to give it to him. Aaron’s mouth seeks out mine and we never break the kiss until our bodies are tangled and we are gasping each other’s names.

  The hotline that ruined my life

  Iwake up incredibly warm, surrounded by Aaron’s arms. I have no idea if he’s awake, but as he nuzzles into my hair and sighs contentedly, I am beyond happy.

  That happiness is a short spark that fizzles quickly, for the sunlight gleaming around the curtains feels like a curse, a sign that our night is over. I feel traitorous—I’d agreed to Aaron’s terms—but now I want more. Something changed when we entered that contest. Aaron slipped into my life so easily it’s as if he’s always been there.

  I can’t do a relationship right now, he’d said. And I get it. It’s been less than a week since he lost his brother. I’d been a mess for months after my parents died, but him? He hides it so well. I don’t know how he does it, how he doesn’t smash more than one paltry mug. Yet here he is, lying calmly around me, as if the world is as it should be.

  It’s not. Not mine, not his.

  His hand sweeps across my belly, leaving a trail of tingles that I’ll remember for the rest of the day. The warmth of him shifts away, and I grab his arm before he can rise from the bed.

  He peers back at me, eyes distant, shoulders tensed. “You shouldn’t look at me like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “What you’re thinking, it’s not a good idea.”

  I bet he’d be packing his bags if he knew what I was thinking.

  Aaron sits on the edge of the bed, somber. “I can’t give you anything else.”

  “Not even one last kiss?”

  He is silent.

  I’ve asked too much.

  The mattress shifts and his breath sweeps over my cheek. As Aaron leans over me, his hazel eyes are heated and his mouth is almost upon mine when he pulls back. “No.”

  “But it’s one simple kiss.”

  “You don’t understand, do you?”

  “I do,” I answer honestly. “You wanted the one night, and now it’s over. It’s what we agreed to. I just need it to feel…finished.”

  He sits on my hips, straddling me, possibly unaware that he is completely naked—magnificent—because he scrunches his hair almost painfully. “One more kiss like last night and it will only be the beginning.”

  “The beginning?”

  “One more kiss and I’m going to regret it.”

  My jaw drops and I go to push him away, but he leans over me, his hair falling around my face. “Eve, it’s only been three days and we’re already bandmates and housemates. That’s more than I’ve committed to with a girl in my whole life.” He sighs. “Frankly, the past week has been miserable, with the exception being you. I’d like to hold onto that for a while longer, before I screw that up as well.”

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  I wait for him to leave the room before I ready myself for work. I feel disconnected, like I’ve screwed up everything. I had to ask for one last kiss! I should have known better.

  Walking out into the living room, I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it wasn’t a mug of coffee—our last remaining mug—passed to me by Aaron, finally dressed in a hoodie and jeans.

  I see the time and choke on my coffee. Work starts in ten minutes!

  “I’m doomed!” I say, splashing coffee down my sleeve.

  “Let me guess…the apocalypse is coming and nobody told me.”

  “Close. I’m late!”

  “You are,” he says, then lazily bites into his cheese toast and passes it to me. I gobble it down in seconds, starving after last night’s activities, which given the conversation several minutes ago might never happen again. Correction—will never happen again. But Aaron knows exactly the right thing to say to make it impossible to forget him, “I’ll stop by later for lunch, let you know how we’re polling.”

  Ah, yes, the competition. Today’s the day.

  I nod. “That would be good, thanks.” Ughh, that sounded too polite. I gulp my coffee down, grab my bag, and rush to the door.

  “Evangeline?”

  As I turn, I’m gently pushed back to the door by Aaron’s embrace.

  “Just one,” he says.

  My heart skips. “One?”

  His kiss is agonizingly gentle. Then it is gone.

  “New deal,” he says.

  “I’m listening…”

  “We wait until we’re out of the competition. We live together, get to know each other, then see if we still want this. There’ll be no torturing each other with dating other people on the side. Just us, waiting.”

  “You’re sure about this?” Only a moment ago he was ending it. He’s going to change his mind about this new deal. I can feel it.

  He tips my head back and lays a fleeting kiss upon my lips. “Yes.”

  I cling to the door handle and slide out of his arms, remembering that I’m late for work, but mostly I know that if I stay another moment I’m not going to leave. I’m halfway out the door when he snatches my hand and kisses the back of it, his gaze filled with heated thoughts that I like far too much. I take my hand back and smile. “I probably shouldn’t say this—”

  “Say what exactly?”

  “But I hope we get evicted in round one.”

  His eyebrows raising is the last thing I see as I walk out the door.

  A tiny girl with pigtails darts around my legs and I squeak as the meals stacked in my arms come close to sliding off the plates. When I finally deliver the plates to the t
able no one complains about their meals. Just as well. I don’t think I could handle another person complaining today. Weirdly enough, most of the complaints have been about Tasha.

  As soon as I arrived this morning she was in a foul mood, and customers noticed it, too. I tried talking to her, but she walked off. Not long after, Penny pulled her aside. When Tasha returned from the kitchen her eyes were cast to the floor. Penny looked livid. That was four hours ago. Tasha’s mood has barely improved, even now the lunch rush has gone. Which means it’s almost my lunchtime. I’m hungry, tired, and dare I admit, way too keen to see Aaron.

  The door chimes and my gaze darts toward it. I try not to show my disappointment when an elderly woman and her daughter enter. I take their order, then wander back to the kitchen.

  Maybe he’s not coming.

  I slap the lunch docket on the pass and Quinn snaps it from my fingers.

  “Hey, Evie, what’s up?” he asks, breaking my daze. “Hope you’re not worried about the Original Star votes. Penny and I have voted like ten times already.”

  “Then thanks ten times over.” I focus on his warm smile, because the spider web tatt peeking out from under his chef’s jacket is creeping me out like usual.

  “Hey, it’s a pretty damn good song. You and this Aaron guy have some serious chemistry on that demo.”

  “Yeah?” I say, a little forlorn but hopeful.

  “Ah, I see…”

  “What?”

  “It’s become complicated between you two.”

  I warm my hands under the counter. “Honestly, how do you always know this stuff?”

  He shrugs. “He’d be a fool to let you go.”

  “He’s going through a difficult time right now, so we’ve decided to wait until after the competition. Then maybe we will, you know…”