by Eli Lang
For a long minute, we stood together, staring out at the miniscule yard and the back of the hill. Not far away, I could see more houses, creeping up other hillsides. Glass walls and small pools, narrow balconies like this one. The houses around here only got more and more expensive, more elaborate. I wondered how Ben had ever managed to afford a place like this to begin with, let alone turn it into this massive studio. Maybe he’d been born here. Or maybe he was simply very good at what he did, and had earned it.
“Your band—your friends—love you,” Nick said at last, breaking the silence. His voice was still low, and he didn’t turn toward me. “You’re not superfluous, or whatever you think you are. It doesn’t work that way. Like I said before.”
I sighed and rested my hands on the railing, close to his, but not quite touching. “I know. Ava . . . made that pretty clear.”
He did face me then. “The reason I was so angry, so afraid, the reason I asked you to leave—none of it had anything to do with your band or your brother. It was just that I didn’t want to get hurt again.”
I thought about what Ava had said this afternoon. “Do you think it’s possible to go into something like this and absolutely know you won’t get hurt?” I wasn’t trying to direct him toward an answer. I honestly wanted to know what he thought about that.
He shook his head. “No. But I think it’s possible to take precautions. And that probably means not getting involved with someone who’s already hurt you once before.”
I closed my eyes against the sunlight and his gaze. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“I know. But you did, Quinn.”
I blinked and found that he’d stepped closer to me.
“I’m not asking you to promise me this will work out perfectly.”
I raised my eyebrows at him and smiled. “That’s almost what you were asking last night.”
He drew in a sharp breath, then paused, and shook his head. “I know. I was confused and worried. But I wanted too much, too fast. All or nothing. Not a maybe. I shouldn’t have asked for that. And,” he added, “I shouldn’t have made you walk home alone. I didn’t think of it until maybe an hour later. I’m sorry, Quinn.”
It was me who shook my head this time. I ignored the bit about me walking home too. “You didn’t push at all last time. I wanted to see you again, back then. I wanted . . . I wanted whatever was between us to go somewhere. I didn’t mean to let it stop. But I was . . . I panicked so bad, Nick. It was like everything I knew about myself was a lie. And I didn’t want you to see it. But it didn’t have anything to do with you pushing too hard.”
He turned to face me. “I don’t understand. Why would what your brother did be your fault?”
I shrugged. I wanted to tumble inside myself, bury down, and hide all of my flaws and all of the mistakes I’d made. But that was what had gotten me here in the first place. “Because it made me rethink everything I knew about my life. I take care of people. That’s my job. It’s what I do. It’s what I’m . . . It’s what I thought I was good at. Some people want to be musicians, and some people want to be lawyers, and I . . . I didn’t plan to take care of people, but it’s what I do and I like it. But I didn’t take care of Eric. I wasn’t there when he needed someone.”
“But he did have someone,” Nicky said, so gentle it splintered something inside me. “He had Micah. And he had you. He could have reached out to you. But he didn’t. Because . . . I’m guessing he didn’t think he needed help. Even if you’d been there, I don’t know that you’d have been able to change anything. I know he must have known he could reach out to you if he needed. You were always there for him, Quinn.”
It was the same thing Ava had said, and Ty, and Micah. Maybe it was finally clicking. Maybe if I heard it enough, I’d start to believe it.
I reached for him, blindly, seeking comfort, although I was pretty sure I didn’t deserve it, and he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me. I put my head down on his shoulder, and he swayed back and forth, like he might have with Josh, soothing me. His hands were warm and solid against my back, his body strong, so I knew I could lean on him and he’d hold me up.
“I don’t want to let you down,” I mumbled into his shirt. “I don’t want . . . I want to be able to take care of you. And Josh deserves someone who won’t let him down, either.”
He brushed his hand through my hair. “I love that you want to protect Josh. But that’s my job right now. I don’t think you’d let him down anyway. But still. And as for me.” He dipped his face and kissed the top of my head. “I don’t want you to take care of me. Or not just one way. I want us to be partners in this, okay? We take care of each other. That’s how it works.”
I moved away enough to see him, to look into his eyes. “You still want this to work? Us. Even after last night. For more than . . . for after this, after we’re done recording?”
He smiled, shy and uncertain but so hopeful it made me all tingly inside. “Yes. I think . . . I’m pretty sure I wanted this to work between us from the second I saw you. All in charge and ordering rock stars around and making sure we all had enough lunch, that someone set my kit up right for me, that Bellamy wasn’t going out to smoke without his coat on. God, I fell for you right then. And I wanted . . . You took care of everyone else. I wanted to take care of you.”
I couldn’t think how to answer that, couldn’t figure out how to put everything inside of me, everything I was feeling, into words. All the confusion and the happiness and the worry and sadness and the sheer, unbelievable joy. So I kissed him instead. Moved forward and pressed my lips against his, held his hips. It wasn’t a deep kiss. Just . . . touch and closeness, and the desire to be near him. He tucked his hands into my back pockets and kissed me back.
When we pulled apart, he was still smiling, but this time it was wider and more sure, that grin I was used to. I reached up, brushed his hair out of his eyes, and smiled back at him. “I never wanted to end things between us. Not now. Not the first time. I just got scared.”
He sobered. “I know. And the first time, I really do understand that. I didn’t belong there with you, not then. But this time . . . There are two of us in this thing, you know? So you need to talk to me, instead of deciding what’s best and backing away. And . . .” He ducked his head and looked up at me through his bangs. “I need to listen. Instead of flipping out.”
I laughed softly. “Yeah. Well, we can work on that.”
He nodded back. “I’m still scared you’re going to hurt me, Quinn. But I think I’d rather try than not.”
I hesitated, but I had to ask. I had to be sure. “What changed your mind?”
He smiled and shrugged. “I think we’re going to try very hard not to do the same things as last time. Try not to mess up. Try to talk to each other. I think we’re already better at that than we were last time.” He let out a sharp breath. “I think I knew that days ago. That it was different now. But I wasn’t letting myself remember that last night because . . . I was angry, and I wasn’t thinking. I panicked. But I knew it days ago. I was afraid to admit it, though. Afraid to hope this might actually work this time.”
I took a deep breath. “Me too.”
“Come home with me tonight? I swear I don’t want to move too fast. But we can . . . talk about stuff, logistics, how this might work? And . . . I really want to spend some time with you, alone, before you go back to San Diego.”
“Yeah. Yes. Please.” I was still scared, about all of it. I still didn’t think I was going to be very good at this. And I was still afraid I was going to mess it all up. But that short period of uncertainty with Nicky, after knowing exactly how good it could be between us, had been awful. And like he’d said, I wanted to try my best to make sure it didn’t happen again.
We left before anyone else. Ty gave me a knowing look and a slight smile, and Ava patted me on the back and gave me what I was pretty sure was close to a leer. Everyone knew where we were headed and what we were probably going to get up to, and it
should have been embarrassing, but I didn’t care. I had Nicky’s hand in mine, and it felt incredible, and that was all that mattered.
I was exhausted from the day, and the night I’d spent on the couch, and Nick was worn out from recording and having Josh around. By some silent agreement, we didn’t put any pressure on our time together, or on each other. Since neither of us had gotten to eat any of the pizza at Ben’s and we were still craving it, we cooked together, like we had the first day. Nick had a frozen pizza crust, and we piled whatever ingredients we found appealing on it, and then wandered over to the couch with our drinks while we waited for it to cook.
I might have dozed for a few minutes. Nick shook me awake gently.
“Here.” He handed me a plate with a couple of slices on it and sat next to me. “Eat before you fall asleep, or you’ll wake up at midnight starving.”
I leaned over and kissed his cheek, which made him blush. He covered it by taking a bite of his own pizza.
I brought our plates to the kitchen when we were done, and stuffed them in the dishwasher. That was good enough for now. I wanted to get back to Nicky.
“Take me to bed now?” I asked, when I was sitting beside him again.
He laughed. “You mean you don’t want to fuck me over the couch?”
I stared up at him. His eyes were dark, and he was teasing, but there was something deep and intense in his gaze, something that hooked me and wouldn’t let me go. “I don’t care what we do,” I blurted out honestly. “I don’t care if you just want to lie next to me. I only want to be near you.”
His smile faded, but he didn’t look unhappy. With his free hand, he cupped my face, his thumb sliding over my cheek. Then he bent forward and kissed me, lightly, tenderly. My forehead, my eyelids, the bridge of my nose. My mouth.
“I could fall in love with you,” he said softly when he pulled back.
My heart pounded hard against my chest. “Yeah?”
He nodded and looked down, tracing his thumb over my bottom lip.
I caught his hand, stilling it. “Me too. It’d be easy.”
“Maybe we should plan to do that, then.”
I laughed, and his lip quirked up at the side. “Yeah. Maybe we should.”
I thought we might end up only sleeping tonight, without anything else after all, despite the way Nick had laughed. That would be fine with me. I wanted to be near Nicky. I didn’t care what form that took. I didn’t think he cared much, either. But I was more awake now, and when I followed him into his bedroom, I caught his hand, tugged him to me, and kissed him.
We shed our clothes and climbed into his ridiculously silky sheets, and he held me against him. It was simpler, this time, but no less fantastic. We ran our hands over each other and brought our bodies together, and finally he reached down and took us both in his palm. Then we rocked together, sharing kisses, panting into the darkness. When he came, warm against my skin, he made a sound somewhere between a moan and a sob, and I leaned forward and kissed him so I could taste it. It tasted of happiness and relief, worry and nerves, satisfaction and comfort. I kissed him and tried to give all of those things back, to let him know I felt them too. Then he squeezed his hand gently around me, and I could only push against him, needing him.
Afterward, we lay together, languid and lazy and too tired to move. This time when he kissed me, he was smiling, and it tasted even better. I could feel the curve of his mouth against mine, the sharp zing of sweetness that happiness brought.
He snuggled into my side and pressed that same smile against my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here.”
I could have teased him about how sentimental that sounded, but I didn’t. I didn’t want to tease him. And it made me happy, like he’d poured honey into my veins, and it was seeping into every part of me—slow and steady and sweet, the most wonderful, intoxicating sensation. “Me too.”
“When are you going back on tour?” he asked quietly.
I shifted so I was facing him, my arm around his shoulders. “Maybe six months? It isn’t set in stone yet. But the record label will probably want them out a couple months after the album drops. You?”
“Sooner than that. We’re going out with the album. Not the best idea ever, but Ty wants to get back on the road, and I don’t blame them. We’ll probably do a world tour this time.”
I brushed his hair back and kissed his forehead. “That’s a good thing. A big step.”
“Yeah.” He was quiet for a moment, like he was going to sleep. Then he said, his voice soft, “When will I see you?”
Ahh. I took a deep breath. “Let’s do weekends first? Make sure we actually like being with each other for all that time?” I couldn’t imagine not, and Nicky frowned like he couldn’t either, and wanted to argue it. But he nodded instead.
“I have Josh on weekends. So maybe we can do every other weekend, and some weekdays? Then we can have time to ourselves too.”
I nodded. “I like that.”
We were still and quiet for a while, lying there together.
“I don’t want to break this,” I said finally, my words only a breath of sound between us. “I don’t want it to . . . be overwhelming and to have me panic over something stupid and make the same mistakes.”
“I know. I don’t want that either.” He brushed his hand up my neck, into my hair, tugging gently. “I don’t think that’s going to happen. I mean . . .” He gave a laugh. “We’ll argue about stuff. I don’t have any doubt about that. But I think . . . we’ll be more careful this time. Don’t you?”
I nodded. I did think that. Especially now. Now that I realized what an idiot I’d been. Or was starting to realize I’d been. “Maybe we can meet up while we’re both on tour too? Or . . . maybe we could meet up while one of us is on tour? Stay together for a while? If things are still working between us?”
He perked up at that. “You want to?”
“If I can. If we decide it’s a good idea. If it’s okay with the rest of your band, and there’s space for me.”
He grinned and pressed a kiss to the side of my neck. “You make me happy. They know that. It’ll be okay with them.”
God, how had I gotten this lucky? I didn’t know. And I didn’t want to question it.
We talked a bit more, in half sentences and murmurs. Then we drifted off like that, wrapped around each other.
Rest in Peach finished recording a few days before Escaping Indigo. It wasn’t quite an ending—we’d still be around for a while, and most of Rest in Peach lived close enough that they could come and see us again before we left if they wanted. But it felt like an end. Closure, a resolution to the time we’d had together, tucked into the close, private, cocoon-like space of the recording studio. Hidden from the world, surrounded by music, and friends, and lovers.
I could admit that I was getting pretty sentimental over all of it, even though, in the grand scheme of things, it had only been a couple of weeks. It had been important, though. For all of us, for all the reasons.
Somehow, Tuck and Ty decided the best thing to do to celebrate was make everyone go to the beach. Nicky was excited about it. He bounced around like a little kid at the idea, and I had to struggle not to make any remarks about how similar he was to his son.
“We can go to the beach anytime,” I said, while he stood in my bedroom at the studio and I dug my swim trunks out of my duffel bag. “You live down the street.” I didn’t live far from it myself, in San Diego. A short drive and I was there. I saw it any time I went to Ava’s or Tuck’s houses.
Nick flopped over onto my bed and grinned up at me. “But it’s nice out.”
I quirked an eyebrow at him. “We’re in LA. When is it not nice out?”
He caught my wrist in his hand, his fingers circling my pulse point. “We get to go together. With everyone. I haven’t ever been to the beach with you. I want to see what you look like in the waves. With sand between your toes.”
I blushed. “You do not.” I’d found my swim trunks, and wanted
to hold them up in front of myself like some flimsy shield.
“Oh.” Nick’s smile deepened. “I do.”
I tackled him and pinned him to the bed. I couldn’t help myself.
We were late to the beach, of course. It wasn’t only Nick and me who had gotten distracted. Cara was still here, and she and Ava were spending an extraordinary amount of time making up for all that long-distance relationship-ing. And Danni and Ty were late meeting us at the studio, because Ty had been having some kind of fashion crisis. I couldn’t fathom what it had been. When they showed up, Ty looked stunning, decked out in a sleek black bathing suit and a swishy white-and-black skirt.
Between them and all the other musicians looking very much like rock stars, and Ben with his colorful tattoos, I felt unstylish and ungainly and out of place.
“This is why I like San Diego,” I grumbled to Nick while we laid out beach towels, and Cara hoisted up a couple of umbrellas so we wouldn’t all burn under the too-bright California sun. “It’s more laid-back. No one cares what you look like or what you’re wearing.” Okay, so that was a bit of an exaggeration. But at least San Diego was home.
Nick straightened up and stared at me. “What are you talking about? What do you look like?”
I gestured at myself, my wide shoulders, scruffy beard, the plain green T-shirt I was wearing. My flip-flops, worn and starting to fray. My battered, definitely not designer sunglasses. “Not like you. Not like . . .” I gestured at Danni, perfectly comfortable in a bikini, splashing through the waves with Tuck, who had this vibe to him, this way he carried himself, that said famous in big, bold letters.
Nick frowned. “Since when do you care about that?”
I sighed and sat down in the shade, my butt on the towel but my feet on the sand. It was blisteringly hot, until I buried my toes and got to the damp coolness underneath. “I don’t. I just . . .” I just wanted to be as cool as everyone else. I wanted anyone who saw us to think I fit with the rest of them. It wasn’t about looks so much as . . . style. Or . . . comfort. Or some intangible thing that the bands and Cara, Micah, and Ben had and I didn’t, quite.