Tempting

by Crystal Kaswell

  "That was a long time ago." I cross and uncross my legs. I appreciate that Piper sees my side of things, but I don't want to talk about this with her. Hell, I don't want to talk about it with anyone.

  Ethan threw me away. If I give him the chance, he'll throw me away again.

  "Yeah, that's true. And you know I get it if you want nothing to do with Ethan romantically. But if you do… if you still love him… well, he still cares about you, Violet. He's not happy without you," she says.

  "He's a millionaire rock star now." It's not that I doubt people with money, fame, and success can have problems. It's more that Ethan has always put music ahead of everything. How can he have the success he's always dreamed of and still be miserable?

  "Hmmm." Piper takes a deep breath. "He's happy on stage, when he plays, when he goes and talks to fans. But other times… I think he misses you."

  Is that really possible? Ethan didn't say a single word to me after he dared me to leave. Nearly two years passed.

  He had a million chances to reach out. He had a million chances to get me back.

  My stomach twists. This conversation is making me nauseous.

  Need to change the subject. "Tell me more about your classes."

  She looks at me with concern, but she still takes the bait.

  We arrive just in time for the sound check. After greeting a few roadies—Piper knows everyone and everyone adores her—we hang out by the side of the stage.

  The stage lights are bright enough it's hard to see anything but Ethan on stage, his guitar strap pulling his t-shirt down his chest. He looks good from behind, especially in those tight jeans. The man has an ass to die for. His back is strong. Those broad shoulders…

  Damn. This isn't working. I fetch two water bottles—one for me and one for Piper—and perfect my I don't give a fuck about you, Ethan face as I make my way back to the stage.

  Only when I catch a glimpse of my reflection, I can see every crack. My lips are fighting a smile. Because there's Ethan with his guitar, looking at me between songs.

  The only solution is more eyeliner. And more lipstick. Hell, I'll add more blush while I'm there. My hair is all natural at the moment, but I can grab a bottle of Vampire Red and go from strawberry blond to the perfect crimson don't fuck with me or I'll kick your ass shade.

  Sure, changing my appearance isn't going to do anything to convince my mind or my heart that all this is okay. But it will convince everyone I'm the kind of girl who doesn't take shit.

  His eyelids press together as his fingers glide over his guitar. He rocks his hips and throws his body into his playing in this perfect mix of you want to fuck me sexy and guy who can't believe he's actually standing on stage in a venue this big gleeful energy.

  He stays lost in his playing until his turn is over. Then he's handing his guitar to a roadie. His eyes fix on mine. His lips curl into a smile.

  Mine do the same. It's a reflex. There's no way to fight it.

  Friends.

  We're going to be friends.

  I'm there. I can be friends with the guy who broke my heart when he was supposed to paste it back together.

  I'm not about to admit I can't handle it.

  He takes a step towards me. His eyes go to something else.

  Is that Tom Steele?

  It is.

  Tom saunters into the room like he owns the place. And, really, he does. Tom is the Sinful Serenade drummer and he's the most famous guy any of us know. But he doesn't need fame to own every room he steps into. He oozes playful charisma.

  It's the same charisma that drew me to Ethan, though Ethan is more obvious about wearing his heart on his sleeve. Or he was. Or I was particularly good at seeing that side of him.

  Fuck, this is confusing. But Tom was my friend or close to it, and I am happy to see him.

  "Okay, I'm here. You can start having fun now." Tom slides off his sunglasses and flashes his million-dollar smile. He nods to Ethan and spins on his heels—he's wearing fuchsia Converse—to face us. "Hey, Pipes. You miss me?"

  "It's been three days since I last saw you," she says.

  "Bet it's been miserable," he says.

  She laughs. "Always miserable without you, Tom." She goes to hug him hello.

  Ethan was in one of Tom's bands when the two of them (plus Tom's bassist brother Pete) were in high school. The band broke up the way most high school bands do, but Tom has always stayed in touch. He was already famous when Ethan and I started dating, but he still made a point of coming to Dangerous Noise shows and visiting the Strong family every time he was in Orange County.

  His eyes go wide as he takes me in. "Fuck, Violet Valentine. Is that really you or is Ethan into some fucked up I need a woman who looks like my ex shit?"

  "It's me," I say.

  Tom's eyes widen as he looks back to Ethan. "How the fuck did he get you here?"

  "Mal offered me a gig," I say.

  Tom nods. He gives me a once-over. "You two fucking again or what?" His voice is matter of fact. To Tom, this is a normal question.

  Piper laughs.

  Ethan shrugs as if he has absolutely no opinion on whether or not our bodies are joining.

  His voice tells a different story.

  "No, we're not," Ethan mutters through clenched teeth.

  "I'd be upset about that too if I were you." Tom motions to me. "Get your cute ass over here and hug me hello."

  He raises a brow—trust me.

  Is he really trying to make Ethan jealous?

  I look at Ethan for a split second. He's smiling through clenched teeth.

  He is jealous.

  Well, I'm not about to snub an old friend because my ex is jealous.

  I hug Tom hello. "I don't flirt with married men."

  He steps back and shows off his wedding band. "I don't flirt with anyone but my wife."

  I laugh. "I haven't seen you in forever."

  "You look good. That's a nice top. Garbage is the shit." Tom leans in to stage whisper. "Plus, you get to remind Ethan what he's missing with your tits on display like that."

  "Uh…" My cheeks are burning.

  "Hey, if I had those tits, I'd show 'em off too. Do me a favor, Violet." Tom looks me in the eyes.

  "Depends what it is," I say.

  "Fair. I'm a demanding man." Again, he leans in to stage whisper. "Keep making Ethan's life hard."

  "What do I get?" I shrug as if I'm not thinking about making Ethan hard.

  "My undying devotion isn't enough?" He mimes being stabbed in the gut.

  I laugh. "If you were single, maybe."

  "I can throw in making Ethan miserable and horny," Tom says.

  Dammit, I'm hot all over.

  Tom laughs.

  Ethan cuts in. "You want to play with Joel's drum kit or something?"

  Tom laughs. "No, I'm playing exactly how I want to play. It's real good to see you, Violet. Give him hell for me."

  Tom winks at me, then at Ethan. He moves on to giving Joel a hard time, grabbing one of his drum sticks and attempting to play half Joel's part.

  Ethan steps closer. He's not wearing his frustration anymore. His blue eyes are bright and his lips are curled into a half-smile.

  "Let me take care of this." He motions to my suitcase. "I'll show you to the bus." He looks to Piper, still hanging out by the sidelines. "You want to grab dinner?"

  "Have to talk to Mal," she says.

  Her eyes tell a different story. Her eyes are fixed on a handsome guy dressed in a black button-up, designer jeans, and motorcycle boots. Oh, that's Kit. The Dangerous Noise bassist has a mass of curly black hair, dark eyes, and sculpted features. He's also got an eyebrow piercing. The man is beautiful enough to grace magazine covers. And he's got that whole tall, dark, mysterious thing going on too.

  Rumor has it his tongue is pierced and said piercing is divine, but then I'm not about to admit to reading celebrity gossip.

  "Always going over my head," Ethan teases her.

  She manages
to pull her eyes away from the bassist. "He's the boss-man."

  Ethan hugs his sister goodbye. "I know it's a school night, but say goodbye before you leave, okay?"

  She nods and whispers something in his ear.

  He whispers back.

  I try, hard, not to swoon over what a caring brother he is.

  After Ethan releases her, he turns to me. "The four of us travel on our own bus. Well, plus you and our driver. The rest of the crew, roadies, and our tour manager, travel on their own bus."

  I nod, but I'm not really thinking about these technicalities. I'm thinking about how Ethan and I are going to be alone on that bus.

  Ethan grabs my suitcase and guides me towards the sides of the room. Piper, genius woman that she is, uses the opportunity to go up to Kit. They exchange friendly-looking words and a hello hug.

  But I can't consider the implications. Ethan's arm is around my waist. His body is warm and he smells good, like sweat and like Ethan.

  We move through the crowded backstage area and out through the side door. Sure enough, there are several black, unmarked tour buses parked in the massive lot.

  Ethan leads me to the one on the far right. "Your drive okay?"

  "Yeah, great. Piper seems really grown up."

  "She is. I hate it."

  "Overprotective older brother?" I ask.

  He nods, pulls open the bus door, and leads me inside.

  It's big. There's a seating area with a TV and a couch, a section of six bunks with privacy curtains, and a small kitchenette.

  Ethan places my suitcase on one of the bottom bunks. "This one is yours."

  "Great. Thanks." I shift my weight between my legs. I'm still right at the bus's entrance. He's all the way over there. Only the bus is small enough that all the way over there is only five feet.

  He moves closer.

  Closer.

  Closer enough to touch me, hug me, kiss me.

  He looks down at me. His breath is steady. His blue eyes are filled with something I can't place.

  His lips look soft.

  But I can't think like this. We have to be friends. He'll throw me away again, and I won't survive that.

  I take a step backwards. I need to say something, do something. "I… I'm hungry."

  I swallow hard.

  God, I really have no tact.

  "I was going to get tacos at a place down the street." He grabs an Angels cap from one of the bottom bunks. "You want to come?"

  "Won't you get recognized?"

  "Not with this." He pulls on the baseball cap.

  "Yeah, right. Go Angels. How are they doing?"

  "Season hasn't started yet." His lips curl into a smile that lights up his eyes. He's endeared by my nervousness. "Place has great guacamole."

  Damn, my weakness.

  Okay, dinner. I can do dinner. Friends have dinner, and Ethan and I are friends.

  "Sure," I say.

  He slides his arm around my waist and guides me off the bus.

  We're friends.

  Just friends.

  But the way he's touching me doesn't feel remotely platonic.

  Chapter Nine

  Violet

  The Mexican restaurant down the block—it's more like half a mile—is a hole-in-the-wall place. Its menu is scribbled in chalk above the counter, but then I don't really need to look at the menu. I already know what I want.

  Ethan and I get in line.

  As usual, he is effortlessly cool. I'm a nervous wreck but I'm doing an all right job keeping that to myself.

  I press my lips together. "Your cap is really red."

  His smile lights up his eyes. "That is the team color."

  "Yeah, but won't it mess up your hair?"

  "Lots of guys wear baseball caps on stage."

  "Not the ones who bounce around and pull off their shirts mid-set."

  Ethan cocks a brow. "Have you been coming to Dangerous Noise shows?"

  I lean in to whisper in his ear. "You're more famous than you think you are."

  My cheek brushes his neck as I pull away. He's warm and the skin-to-skin contact is setting me on fire. I want more of it.

  I want all of it.

  Ethan takes off the cap and shakes his head. His hair falls back into that effortless style.

  "That isn't fair," I tease. It really isn't. I have to blow dry my hair to get it to cooperate.

  He shrugs, still effortless.

  Ethan's voice drops to something low and serious. "Piper was happy to see you."

  "She's sweet."

  He holds up his buzzing cell phone. "She keeps texting to tell me not to fuck this up."

  I study the expression in his bright blue eyes. He seems sincere. But what does that mean? It's almost like Ethan agrees with Piper that he fucked things up between us.

  It's almost like he wants me back.

  But that's ridiculous.

  Hell, it's impossible.

  I try to say something, anything, but my tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth. What am I going to say? I'm not going to ask him if he wants me back. That doesn't matter.

  Ethan and I are over. Forever.

  I'm not giving him the chance to break my heart again.

  The person in front of us finishes ordering. Ah, finally.

  I step forward and order. "Veggie and cheese enchiladas with green sauce."

  "And a side of guacamole," Ethan adds.

  "With chips?" the cashier asks.

  "No," I say.

  "But with extra corn tortillas." Ethan winks at me.

  Is that a friendly ah, you're so predictable the way you always order the same thing (which isn't true—sometimes I order tacos) wink?

  It must be.

  I can play that game too. "Four steak tacos with extra onions and chipotle salsa."

  Ethan laughs.

  The cashier looks at us like we're crazy. He nods to the salsa bar at the end of the counter. "Salsa and toppings are self-serve."

  Ethan pulls out his wallet.

  I grab his wrist. "Let me."

  He shakes his head. "It's part of my per diem. It's the band's money, not mine."

  "Okay." I chew on my bottom lip. It still doesn't feel right letting him pay for me, but I can tell he's going to insist.

  After Ethan pays, we get salsas and waters and take our seats in a cozy booth in the corner. This place is cute. The orange walls are decorated with Day of the Dead paintings. The furniture is all tan and brown and there are cacti on every table.

  This really is a cozy booth. Ethan's feet are touching mine. When he shifts his weight, his knees touch mine.

  I pull my legs onto my bench seat and cross them. That doesn't do anything to ease the nerves fluttering in my stomach.

  Ethan's blue eyes are fixed on me. His expression isn't platonic. He's looking at me the way he used to—like I mattered to him more than anything else.

  His phone buzzes. It's loud enough I can hear it.

  He pulls out his phone. "I'm turning this on silent."

  "What is she saying?"

  He glances at the phone then his eyes are on mine. "Piper doesn't get that the two of us are just friends."

  "Right. Yeah. We're friends. Just friends. I mean, we're not really friends yet, but we're going to become better friends." I grab my water and chug. Ah, that stops the babbling. But my throat still feels dry. My stomach is still twisting in a really unpleasant way.

  That look in Ethan's eyes is doing things to me.

  My thoughts are interrupted by our food. I dive into my enchiladas before I can say anything else. They're hot enough to burn the roof of my mouth but they're also amazing. The tomatillo sauce is perfectly fresh and tangy.

  The two of us being just friends is a good thing. It shouldn't make me feel empty and achy.

  His phone flashes. He glances at the screen and shakes his head.

  "I… uh…" I take another bite and chew slowly. "How has the band been?"

  He looks at me like he'
s judging my intentions. I guess he deems them acceptable because he smiles. "Good. Mal and I had just joined when things ended between you and me." His voice is even and matter of fact about our breakup. It's like he's reciting a date in history class. "Fans really responded to us on that first tour. People liked what I brought on guitar. And you know the way Mal sings all breathy and needy. Women love it."

  I nod. Mal does sound like he's in the middle of fucking a woman when he sings. "He's hot."

  Ethan laughs. "We waited until we had a fan base to sign a deal. Put out our first record, toured more, put out our second record. We're finally at the point where we can cut back to touring five months a year instead of eight."

  "Yeah?"

  He nods.

  "Using any of that time to date?" Yet another tactless comment. Awesome.

  Ethan laughs. "That was smooth, Vi. Really smooth."

  "Thank you." My cheeks are burning.

  "No, I don't date."

  "No?"

  "I fuck. Dating is too much commitment."

  "Yeah, right, of course." Again, my stomach twists and my shoulders go tense. What does it matter that Ethan doesn't date? I don't want to date him. I don't.

  "What about you?"

  "I was seeing someone last year. He wanted to get serious, but I wasn't ready for that."

  I study Ethan's expression. His brow twitches. His eyes fill with frustration.

  He's jealous.

  It's wrong and immature, but I want to make him more jealous. "He was crazy about me. A great guy. A business student, stable, really willing to put me first." Only I didn't feel anything when Denny kissed me. It was nice but that was it. I never craved him. I never missed him. I never came close to loving him. He was a great guy but he wasn't Ethan.

  "That's great." Ethan tries not to clench his teeth but he doesn't quite pull it off. "How is school?"

  His brow stays furrowed.

  He's really jealous.