It’s her turn to laugh and shake her head. “Oh man, I totally hear you. I once got stuck on ‘cross-stitch.’”
I can’t hold in my snort and actually have to set my drink down. “Wait, what? Cross-stitch? How was that even in the running in the first place?”
She grins and covers her face. “I know! I have no idea. I was trying to explore this idea of two souls weaving themselves into a fabric, and after ending the previous line with ‘chase it,’ my brain insisted on using the word ‘cross-stitch’ for whatever reason!”
I laugh again and return to my coffee. “I mean, it kind of works then, I guess,” I offer with another smile. “Guess we’re both shitty songwriters.”
She returns my grin, her blue eyes making a direct connection with mine. I suck in my breath at the sudden, volatile reaction of my body. Racing pulse, blood rushing to places it hasn’t in a long time. Shit. What is happening?
I wonder if she feels it too when she quickly looks away. There’s a tangible distance again, and I swallow.
“Is it true you have a ’43 J45?” she blurts before things get too uncomfortable. I’m stunned by the random question, but grateful at the same time. We still have food on our plates, and she hasn’t given up. I would have.
“How’d you know about that?” I ask in amusement.
She shrugs. “Not sure, actually. Just remember reading it somewhere.”
I shake my head with a grin. “Yeah. I’ve had it for a couple years. She’s my angel.”
Holland sighs. “I would seriously climb over dead bodies just to touch it.”
I laugh. “Uh, how about I just let you play it later.”
Her eyes ignite as her jaw nearly hits the table. “Wait, are you serious? You have it here?”
I grin, loving the light in her expression and the fact that my words put it there. “Yeah. It’s on my bus.”
“I…seriously?”
I shake my head, still laughing. “Seriously. We’ll meet up later. Wait until you hear this thing. It’ll blow your mind.”
She’s already drooling which only cements my offer. “I still don’t believe you. Nope, you’re lying. You’re just trying to torture me.”
I snicker. “Even I’m not that cruel. I’m serious. Whenever you want.”
“Yes! Let’s go!” she cries, throwing down her fork, and I laugh again.
“Well, you can finish your food first. We’re not on for a while,” I remind her. She sighs and picks it back up.
“Ok, fine. I’m not kidding, though, Luke. If you’re messing with me, I will gut you.”
I grin and hold up my hands. “Whoa, take it easy. I swear. She’s all yours for as long as you want her.”
Her hard gaze continues to bore into me until she finally seems satisfied with my promise. I’m still grinning as she settles back into her seat.
“Have you played The Mercer Center before?” I ask, resuming the conversation.
She shakes her head and pokes her fork at a slice of pineapple. “No, I haven’t. What about you?”
I nod. “A couple times. I love arena concerts. The energy is phenomenal.”
“Yeah? Sweet. I’m looking forward to it.”
“You may want to keep both ears in the whole time, though. The echo there can be…”
“Can I sit?”
Holland turns around at the new voice, and I glance up at the intruder. I’d seen him coming but was hoping to delay the interruption as long as possible. I’ve only spoken to him once so far and it wasn’t exactly a brotherly moment.
“Oh, hey, Wes! Yeah, have a seat. Just chatting about The Mercer Center. Luke says it’s a killer venue.”
“Hey, man. Morning,” Wes says, and I return his forced greeting.
“We played it on our last tour. It was pretty sick,” I explain.
Wes glances at me. “Really? You weren’t on the last tour though, right?”
I freeze.
“Wes…” Holland hisses, and I swallow hard.
“No, I guess I meant the one before that then,” I manage, my heart pounding.
Wes shrugs, and I swear there’s something dark in his expression. “Oh ok. Hey, you know what? Touring gets old. I totally got it when you left.”
I stifle my glare and start to gather my trash. “Sure. Thanks,” I mutter. “I should get going.”
“Hey, man, sorry. Didn’t mean to upset you. I just… you know… We all need a break every so often. No big deal.”
This time, I don’t even bother with polite pretense. He’s certainly not as he meets my gaze with a clear challenge.
“Enjoy your breakfast,” I spit, rising from the table.
“Luke!” Holland calls after me as I move toward the waste bin. I don’t want to turn around. I don’t need to see her face. I don’t need to know she agrees her lead guitar player is acting like an ass, but has to stay loyal to him anyway. I definitely don’t need to see his smug expression. I saw the obvious smirk before I was able to escape. They all love how far I fell. Watching me shatter for public consumption. I know it, I’m not an idiot, but it doesn’t mean I have to let them see how weak I still am.
I’m in the hall when footsteps clap toward me. I don’t want to turn around but have no choice when a hand grabs my arm and tugs me to a stop.
“Luke, I’m sorry.” It’s Holland looking up at me with a sincerity that touches something deep, something forgotten. “I don’t know why Wes said that stuff. He didn’t mean anything by it.”
“No? I’m pretty sure he meant a lot by it.” Her face falls, and I sigh. “Look, Holland, I get it. I’m not saying I don’t deserve that shit, but I also don’t need to sit around listening to it. Besides, I have to go see Gary about a problem with my pedal board anyway. We can do the ’43 another time.”
“Luke, wait! Just…”
I pause and give her the floor, but suddenly she doesn’t seem to know what to do with it anymore. There’s that look again. Like she’s fighting herself more than anything. After a few more awkward seconds, I force a polite smile. I know she means well and deserves that at least.
“Seriously, thanks for the chat. I needed to laugh for a bit. Good luck tonight,” I answer.
She still looks like she wants to say something but doesn’t. Or can’t. Or won’t. I don’t know, but it’s not my problem.
“Thanks, you too,” she returns finally, and we exchange another awkward smile before going back to being unnatural strangers.
∞∞∞
I’m in a weird place as I make my way out of the building. Torn between yesterday’s emotional reconnection with Ellie’s ghost and today’s sudden acknowledgement of Holland, I feel the guilt mount, almost anger at my traitorous body that’s still reacting to the effect of Holland’s penetrating, deep blue eyes. I close my own for a moment, trying to decide what to do next. I’m not ready for the bus and probing gazes of my friends, but I also have nowhere else to go. I kind of feel like writing, but I don’t have anything except my phone at the moment, so even that’s out. The weariness of the last few days is starting to catch up with me, which isn’t helping matters.
I sigh and drop to the steps outside of a service entrance, breathing in the warm morning air. The back of the building is alive with activity at this hour, and I find the din of muffled voices, idling truck engines, and crashing pallets, strangely comforting. There’s a pattern, an order to the chaos. An organic relationship between each role and sound that links them to each other and their world. Life makes sense for these people, in this block of time. They know what to do next, how they fit. Meanwhile, I can’t even seem to figure out the journey from breakfast to lunch.
I shift when I hear the door open behind me so the employee can pass, but am surprised when no movement follows. I open my eyes and squint up, nearly flinching at the blurry silhouette leaning over me, encased in sunlight.
“Took care of your pedal board issue already?” Holland asks with a knowing grin. She drops beside me on the step, for
cing me to adjust my position. Her body is close, so close that I can smell the clean, fresh scent of her hair as she brushes against me. It’s not her fault, the stairs are narrow, and I swallow. There goes the dam on my blood again. God, it’s so annoying, and I’m so not in the mood to deal with it.
“Just enjoying a moment of peace and silence,” I respond, trying to sound much more relaxed than I feel.
Her gaze flickers to the line of trucks backed into the loading docks.
“Yeah, it’s quite the sanctuary out here,” she teases. I cast her a quick grin in spite of myself and shake my head.
I can feel her eyes as I look away again and focus on nothing in particular. Just as long as it’s not her. I don’t understand what she wants from me.
“So are you stalking me or something?” I toss casually.
“Don’t even pretend you’re not used to it.”
I smile again as she continues her assault on my sour mood, and can’t believe I’m suddenly shy for some reason. No, I’m not used to being stalked by Holland Drake. I have a feeling I’d never get used to that.
“Honestly, no. It’s been a while since I’ve been properly stalked. I’ve been in hiding for a long time.”
“So I’ve heard. Lucky for you, I’m not your typical stalker. Definitely just a gateway fangirl.”
I laugh and glance over at her. “A gateway fangirl? What does that even mean?”
“Um…I don’t know. I think it means I’d go through your garbage, but not steal your dog or anything. I’ll have to check with your fan groups for clarification.”
I can’t stop it, and she grins when I double over in laughter. “Oh my god.” I wipe my eyes, drawing in a deep breath.
“You know, you’re not what I was expecting,” she blurts next, jerking us in an entirely new direction. Nope, not a chance I ever figure out her maze. My gaze shoots back to her at her boldness.
“Really. Well, people usually expect the worst from me, so that’s either good news, or extraordinarily bad.”
She smiles and cocks her head a bit, studying me. “Good, I think. Which could be bad. We’ll see.”
I’m not sure what she means by that, but I’m afraid to ask. Whatever it is, I’m not ready for it. She’s not either, even if she doesn’t know it yet.
“It’s just that you’re intimidating, you know?” she continues, and I let out my breath, caught off guard again. It’s like she’s purposely trying to taunt social etiquette.
“Huh?”
She’s grinning so I know she likes throwing me off balance. “What? Like you don’t know that about yourself? I’m the first to call you out on the enigma thing you’ve got going?”
“I’ve never had anyone tell me that to my face, no. Intimidating, how? Sure it’s not just you who finds me intimidating?”
I swear she blushes a bit as she shrugs, but I don’t feel badly. She started the “smash all social barriers” game.
“No, I doubt it. You’re…I don’t know. Untouchable.”
I laugh again, I can’t help it. Untouchable. Sure. I’ve been Life’s fucking punching bag since the day I was born.
“Untouchable? What does that mean?”
It’s her turn to stare off. She’s carefully considering my question. I can almost see the spark of intelligence, the depth, flashing across her face as she scans the scene around us.
“What’s your middle name?” she asks finally.
I stiffen. “What? Why?”
She studies me again for a second and finally leans back against the railing. “See? That’s exactly what I mean. That wasn’t even an intrusive question. But your instinct forces you to defend. To hide. Mine’s Elizabeth. Holland Elizabeth Drake.”
She sighs, and when her eyes change, I find myself getting drawn in all over again. “Like I said, you’re an enigma, Luke. You’re a dark, beautiful painting locked high on the wall behind a protective shield of glass. We all love to approach at a safe distance, but that’s it. We admire, we stare, we even drool, many mock and hate, but none of us can imagine trying to touch it, to solve the mystery and get behind the glass. You wouldn’t let us even if we wanted to. You’re comfortable up there, out of reach.”
I almost snort as I’m finally able to force my eyes away. “Oh yeah? You got all that from two conversations?”
She laughs softly. “Heck, no. I got all that from hours of listening to Callie gush about you. Our two conversations just reinforce it.”
My gaze turns to a glare as the blood starts to boil. “Callie told you all that? She wouldn’t do that.”
She seems affected by my heated reaction. “Of course not. She only talks about you as a friend whom she loves and respects. I read into the rest on my own, comparing what she says in sharp contrast to your reputation and what everyone else thinks. I trust her judgment, which means it’s obvious people don’t really know you. That there’s something else going on. Am I wrong?”
I stare into the distance again, not sure how to answer that, but positive I don’t want to.
“Do you always just say whatever you think?” I counter instead.
She laughs. “If you think this is bad, you should hear all the things I’m not saying right now.”
I glance over, and despite the momentary darker mood, can’t help but crack a smile at her expression.
“Really? How intriguing.”
She shrugs, but doesn’t resist my gaze.
“Ok, fine. You want to play this game?” I challenge. “What were you going to tell me on the bus yesterday but didn’t?”
Now, she definitely does blush and looks away. “I was right not to say anything. It’s not going to come out any better now.”
I continue staring at her, determined to throw her off her game as well. I can be a damn stubborn painting when I want to be. Finally, she mutters a curse.
“Ok, ok! I was going to tell you that I don’t hook up with other musicians, especially on tour. I just wanted you to know that up front. Nothing personal, just a rule I have.”
My eyes widen in disbelief before bursting out laughing again. Her audacity is so funny and so freaking hot I can’t help it. “Seriously? You were just going to dump that on me right out of the gate? Do you start off every relationship with that warning?”
I can tell she’s embarrassed, but amused at the same time. “No. Only when I think my rule could be an issue for me.”
There it is again. The sudden rush of searing blood. Shit. I draw in a deep breath.
She grins. She caught me, knows she got to me. “Come on, Luke. You’re an insanely talented, walking, talking Greek god bad boy. You even have the sexy accent, tortured soul thing going on. Is there a woman on this planet who could resist you if you wanted her?”
I smirk to hide my own reaction to her words, and tear my eyes away from her. “I can name a few.”
“Besides Callie,” she laughs. “And let’s face it, Casey Barrett isn’t exactly far off himself.”
I grin and shake my head. “I’ll tell him you said that.”
“You better not. I love Callie. She’d kill me.”
“No she wouldn’t. She’d laugh and tell you you’re absolutely right. Then thank you for noticing and ask if you wanted some tea.”
Holland chuckles. “She would. It’s true.” She quiets. “Anyway, sorry if this is just making things more awkward. I just…I don’t know. Life’s too short to play games with people. I like to be open and just put the truth out there. How else can we deal with it and know where we stand? Our world is complicated enough. Why not simplify what we can actually control?”
I don’t look at her this time. She may feel that way, but it’s so far from where I’m at that I don’t even know how to respond.
“Does that approach work for you?” I manage finally.
Her eyes are on me. I can feel her tracing me, and I’m afraid to look. I’m terrified of what her gaze does to me.
“Does deflecting work for you?”
I
instinctively glance at her now and still. She doesn’t let me look away this time. She’s searching for something but I have no idea what. I doubt she’ll find it, whatever it is. God knows there’s not much left to find.
“Usually it works pretty well,” I respond.
She nods, then softens. “Well, it won’t with me, Luke,” she explains gently, pulling herself to her feet. “I’m just warning you. I have no idea if we can be friends or not, but you should know that I don’t believe in bullshit. I guess that should have been my warning yesterday instead.”
And with that, I’m alone again on the steps, staring at a line of rumbling delivery trucks, breathing in warm late-summer air, wondering what the hell just happened.
∞∞∞
I decide I want to run my own sound check today. My strange conversation with Holland still has me off balance into the afternoon, and I need to reset before tonight. Besides, I never did get my writing time in, and I could use some relaxed creativity. Casey agrees, and even Eli and Sweeny reluctantly follow when I tell them I have a new song I want to work on. Callie is parked in the front row, her encouraging smile beaming off her face as she waits patiently for us to get our shit together.
“Is this the butterfly song?” Casey asks as we settle into our positions.
I can see Eli and Sweeny nearly choke. “Wait, what? You get clean and suddenly we’re doing butterflies?”
I shoot Casey an annoyed look. “Can you not call it the butterfly song?”
He shrugs. “What? Ok, fine. But that’s what it’s about, right?”
“No. It’s about metamorphosis. Working title is ‘Metamorphosis.’”
“So butterflies.”
I roll my eyes and can hear Callie laughing from her seat. “It’s ok, Luke! I love butterflies!” she shouts up to us. “So do all your teen girl groupies! You just need a four-part harmony and coordinated dance to go with it!”
“It’s not about fucking butterflies!” I cry in exasperation, even as I shake my head with a grin.
“Don’t get mad! I’m just saying, is there a butterfly in it or not?” Casey asks, and I almost throw my guitar at him.
Tracing Holland (NSB Book 2) Page 4