"A little." Fuck, it's cute when she's nervous.
She sighs into my chest. "I'm sure you've lost friends, more than I have."
"It's not a competition." I run my fingers through her hair. It's sweet that she's mourning the loss of her friendship. She goes into everything head first. I'm sure she was the same with this friendship.
And with ending it.
Every inch of me wants to comfort her. I hold her body against mine. I press my palm into the space between her shoulder blades. My hand is on her bare skin. From the way she's rubbing my arms with her fingers, I can tell the touch is doing things to her.
I want more. I want my hands all over her body. I want to hear that soft sigh of pleasure fall off her lips as I touch her and taste her. I want her screaming my name.
"Why does it take such a long time to realize everything is different?" she asks.
"It's hard to notice when they change a little bit every day."
She pulls back enough to look into my eyes. "You... you're a good guy."
Not sure about that.
Her blue eyes bore into mine. "If you ever are upset with me, please tell me. Or if I'm changing, becoming too obsessed with my loser stoner boyfriend—"
"You're into stoner guys?"
She shakes her head. "Anything like that. Tell me if I've got my head up my ass. Or if I've ever hurt you. Most of the time, when people hurt me, I stop trying. I don't want that to happen to us."
"Promise you won't drink that much again."
"Ever?"
"If you have to drive."
She nods. "Okay, I promise."
"I will be mad if you break that promise."
"I know." She smooths her skirt and leans back into her seat. Then her hands are playing with the strap of her safety belt. "I won't. I always keep my promises."
I believe her.
If it was anybody else, I'd say bullshit, but I believe that she'll keep any promises she makes to me. I trust Piper. I trust Piper in a way I don't trust anyone. Not even the other guys in the band.
I turn on the car and pull onto the street. It only takes a few minutes to get to the freeway.
We're quiet. I turn the radio up but that doesn't help fill the silence. It's a twenty minute drive back to her house, but it feels like it takes three hours. The air is heavy with frustration.
I sigh with relief when I park in front of her place.
She shifts in her seat, clearly uneasy. "Will you get back to your bike okay?"
"I'll take a cab home and get it tomorrow."
"Maybe I can take you? Today was my last midterm. There's this audition I was thinking of doing tomorrow, but... I don't think I want to do it now." She plays with her purse.
"Go to the audition."
Her eyes meet mine. "Okay. But only if you agree to let me take you to your bike. It's my fault you're stranded."
"I can handle it."
"I want to. Can I? Please."
Damn, she's polite even when she's tipsy. I'm not sure how to react. Nobody is this polite with me.
Nobody looks at me the way Piper does.
I nod. "Okay."
"I'm sorry, I... I just feel like this stupid kid who was trying too hard to be a bad girl. I really am a nice girl, I guess."
"That's not a bad thing."
"It is."
"Why?"
"Guys don't like nice girls."
"Asshole guys don't like nice girls."
She looks me in the eyes. "Do you like nice girls?"
"Come on." I get out of the car and help her out of the passenger seat. I know what she's doing.
I lock the car and help Piper inside. Her fingers dig into my arms. She rests her head against my shoulder.
There's no sign of Mal or Ethan here, but there are streamers and party hats.
"Do you want some?" She points to the cake on the counter. "Mal and Ethan threw me a Spring Break party."
"No thanks." I have to smile at the mental image of usually gruff Mal in a party hat. "I'm glad you called me."
She looks up at me with those big blue eyes. "Yeah?"
I nod. It's a lot better than the alternative. And it means she trusts me. Nobody fucking trusts me. Not after all the shit I pulled last year.
"I'll let you get to bed." If I don't leave now, I'm going to invite myself to join her.
She looks up into my eyes as she slides her arms around my neck. Her lids flutter together as she rises to her tip toes to kiss me.
She tastes like citrus and cheap booze, but under that is Piper.
Her lips part. She arches her back, pressing her body against mine, inviting me to take her.
My entire body is humming with the kind of energy I only feel on stage.
I want to take her to her room and make her come.
Which means I need to leave. Now.
I pull back.
She looks up at me, her eyes filled with desire.
I take a step backwards and reach for the door. "Goodnight."
Her voice gets low, seductive. "Goodnight, Kit."
It takes every bit of self-control I have to convince myself to head home.
Chapter 10
Piper
It's bright in here. And loud.
What is that horrible noise downstairs? I brush my teeth and wash my face in the bathroom, but the splashes of cool water aren't doing anything to ease my pounding headache.
Drinking sucks. You feel dizzy and out of sorts when you're tipsy then you feel like shit the next day.
The lowered inhibitions are a perk. As much as I hate that Rory and I aren't friends anymore, I'm glad I got everything off my chest.
After I get dressed, I make my way downstairs.
Ethan is fixing coffee in the much-too-bright kitchen. His spoon smacks into his ceramic mug at an ear-bursting volume.
He pours me a cup of coffee then gets out the half and half and sugar. "Still don't know how you drink it as sweet and creamy as you do."
It's too bright for banter. "Thanks." I fix my drink normally but it tastes too creamy.
"You slept late." He nods to the time on the microwave—almost noon. "When did you get in?"
"Before you, obviously." Fuck, is it really noon? Auditions ended an hour ago.
"You look like shit."
"Thank you." I top off my cup and take another sip. Better. "What was she this time— blond, brunette, redhead? Did you even notice?"
He cocks a brow. "You really want to know?"
"UCI is on spring break."
"And?"
"NYU might be on spring break."
Ethan shoots me a death glare.
"You could call Violet. Apologize for dumping her because she was mourning her brother."
"She's the one who left."
"You forced her to leave."
"Even if that was true, and you know it's not, she's the one who left."
"Do you even enjoy fucking strangers?"
He stares at me. "This didn't work over winter break. It didn't work last summer. Why do you think it's going to work this time?"
"I believe in true love." I flip him off as playfully as I can. It's still bright. And loud. And I'm remembering something about promising to take Kit to get his bike.
I know he can handle it on his own, but it's my fault he's parked on some random street in Long Beach. I want to help him fix it.
Ethan shakes his head at me. Oh, Pipes, don't you see that's not how things work in the real world where the grown-ups play.
I'd let it go if Ethan really seemed happy. But I can tell he doesn't get anything out of sleeping with strangers. I can tell he misses Violet—the two of them were together for three years and they were the happiest couple anyone had ever seen.
Violet is practically my older sister. She taught me how to do smoky eye. She taught me how to blow dry my hair. She taught me how to pick out shoes that are cute and comfortable. My mom isn't around to help with girl stuff and Ethan and Mal aren't exact
ly experts.
"You have plans today?" Ethan takes a long sip of his coffee.
"I'm going to head to L.A." I study Ethan's expression. He seems to accept my answer as not needing more detail. It's ridiculous that I need to explain myself. I'm nineteen. I'm an adult. I shouldn't have to justify my plans.
Even if I'm lying by omission.
Maybe I'm being paranoid. Ethan isn't looking at me in a particularly suspicious or protective way. He occasionally growls at my jokes about screwing around, but that's about it. Those don't even phase Mal anymore. If anything, he enjoys teasing me back. He's gotten really good at it.
Ethan nods. "Be home for dinner?"
"Depends on traffic." I finish my coffee with a long swig. "You heading out?"
He nods to the practice room. "I'll be here all afternoon."
Despite my headache, I have to smile. Ethan is a perfectionist. If I had more energy, I'd tease him about it.
Instead, I hug him goodbye and trudge upstairs with another cup of coffee.
My phone is sitting on my desk, fully charged, completely free of any important text messages.
I try not to read into it. I did promise Kit I'd give him a ride to his bike. I'm doing that.
Piper: Hey. You up?
Kit: You slept late.
Piper: It's spring break.
Kit: Even so.
Piper: Already got the lecture from Ethan.
Kit: You feel like shit?
Piper: There's a hammer pounding on my forehead.
Kit: Good.
Piper: Good?
Kit: You won't drink that much again.
Piper: Oh, right. That's true. Are you home?
Kit: You need to work on your booty call skills.
Piper: How about: I'm not wearing any panties.
Kit: Is that true?
Piper: Maybe. Are you home?
Kit: And dressed.
Piper: But you go commando.
Kit: Still not a great pick up line.
Piper: How about: I want you to ride me like you ride your motorcycle.
Kit: Better.
Piper: You do better.
Kit: If I do better, you won't be able to move.
Piper: Yeah?
Kit: You'll be too wet and needy.
Piper: Try me.
Kit: Not a good idea
Piper: I can handle it.
Kit: You can't.
Piper: How do you know?
Kit: I know. I am home.
Piper: I promised to take you to your bike. You still need a ride?
Kit: Depends on the kind of ride you mean.
Piper: You know what kind I mean.
Kit: Yeah, I've been at the gym in my building all morning.
Piper: Okay. I'll leave in ten minutes. Should take an hour.
Kit: Put on panties.
Piper: I make no promises.
I shift my weight between my legs. I've only been at Kit's place once, and it was because he didn't have a choice.
This is different.
He practically invited me here.
I take a deep breath and knock on the door.
From inside, he says, "it's open."
I shouldn't be dizzy, but my head is spinning. After another deep breath, I turn the knob and step inside.
Kit is upstairs, standing in the frame of his bedroom door, clad in only jeans. His back is defined. His shoulders are strong. And he has this black tattoo running down his side. Words. I can't read them from here, but I want to. I want to run my fingers over his skin until I feel the ridges from the ink.
What does it say?
What does it mean to him?
He steps inside his bedroom and pulls a t-shirt on. Then he's back in the hallway, his dark curly hair falling to his shoulders, his dark eyes fixed on me.
"I thought you were dressed," I tease.
"Took a shower." He runs a hand through his wet hair to prove it.
I want my hand in that hair. I want his hand on me. Fuck, I want him so badly I'm dizzy.
"You look like shit." His smile spreads over his cheeks as he moves closer. "I'm glad."
"Do I really?" So much for my makeup counteracting my dark circles.
"You want me to say you're pretty?"
"If that's what you think."
He gives me a long, slow once over. "You're a pretty girl." His dark eyes fix on mine. "A pretty girl who looks like shit." He half-smiles. "That's the best you're going to get."
"I'll take it." I'd prefer you taking me, but I realize it's not the best moment for it.
He moves closer. Close enough to touch me, hug me, kiss me.
He does none of those things.
He simply exists near me.
My body is buzzing. It wants his hands, his lips, his cock. I've never thought about another guy in those terms. I had boyfriends in high school, made out, but I was always too afraid of sex to actually consider it.
When I think about Kit... I want all of it. It feels new and exciting, not terrifying.
His eyes stay glued to mine, studying mine. His lips part but he doesn't speak.
I know enough about sex to read his body language. He's turned towards me. His shoulders are strong, proud. His hands are at his sides. It's like he's making a point of gluing them to his sides.
Like he's reminding himself not to touch me.
I rise to my tip toes to pull him into a hug. A hello, nice to see you, my friend hug.
His arms wrap around me. His palms go flat against my back.
His body is hard.
His breath is warm on my neck.
He smells so fucking good.
It's impossible to convince myself I can be his friend when he's this close.
But what's my other option?
Being his friend is a lot better than being his nothing.
And Kit is my friend.
A good friend.
Kit breaks the hug. He brushes past me to grab his leather jacket off his coat rack. "You eat lunch?"
I shake my head.
He chuckles. "Too queasy?"
"It's not nice to enjoy other people's pain."
"Just glad you'll learn your lesson."
"I did."
"Let me guess— you want something greasy."
I admit nothing.
He slides his arm around my waist to lead me out the door. "There are food carts down the street."
"Won't you get recognized?"
"It's just suits this time of day. They barely look up from their cell phones." He checks the door is locked then leads me to the elevator.
I press my back against the mirrored wall. My reflection confirms that I look tired. Sick even. I smooth my fit and flare dress and fix my ponytail but that only helps so much.
Kit leans against the wall, next to me. His eyes meet mine through the reflection. His hand brushes against mine.
That simple touch sets my body on fire. I'm acutely aware that we are alone in this elevator. There may only be eight seconds left in the ride, but that's eight seconds we could spend pressed together.
Kissing.
Touching.
Fucking.
The elevator ding pulls me back to reality. Only reality is Kit staring at me through our reflection, his gorgeous dark eyes filled with something I can't place.
Kit nods to the door. "This way."
This time, he leads without touching me. A few steps and we're outside. It's bright today. It's bright everyday but it's worse downtown. The sun is bouncing off the concrete.
I dig through my purse for my sunglasses. That's better. It's still bright. And loud. But I don't feel like I'm being assaulted with light.
We walk a few blocks in silence. He doesn't mention anything about our kiss.
Maybe that's for the best.
Finally, he breaks the silence. "You go to your audition?"
I shake my head. "I slept too late."
"Can't let you take me to my car unless you went to your
audition."
"I'll go to another one."
His eyes meet mine. He holds up two fingers. "I'm collecting interest."
"Fair. I'll do two auditions." My eyes go to the ground. "I've been thinking more about acting, how I could pursue it in a practical way."
"Lots of people do."
I nod. Yeah. They do.
"You're stubborn enough you could make anything work."
"I'll take that as a compliment. But let's talk about this later. I'm tired."
He nods.
The next block takes us into the shade of a skyscraper. There are three food trucks parked at the curb and another three across the street.
The one in front of us is Vietnamese food, ban mi sandwiches and pho.
My stomach growls at the thought of a bowl of noodle soup.
"Beef pho and a Vietnamese iced coffee?" Kit asks.
I nod.
He points to a bench down the street. "Save our seats."
"Okay. Thanks in advance for lunch."
His brows screw then ease. "You're always polite."
"How else should I be?"
"No, it's good. Just different." He slides his leather jacket off his shoulders and nods to the bench.
I want to stay here with him, but I'd rather not eat standing up. I make my way to the concrete bench and take a seat. I lay his jacket in the spot next to me, that clear seat's taken sign.
The sun is exacerbating my headache. It makes it hard to appreciate the beautiful blue sky. Usually, I love staring at the concrete mecca of downtown LA. Today, I'm more interested in my shoes.
They're canvas sneakers in pastel pink. They scream innocent kid. But that's a lost cause.
I watch Kit from my seat on the bench. There's something cat-like about him. He gives off I don't need you or your attention vibes.
Does he really believe that?
I get caught up contemplating the matter until Kit takes the seat next to me.
Dangerous Crush: A Rock Star Romance (Dangerous Noise Book 2) Page 9