by M. H. Soars
I rise onto my tiptoes and kiss his jaw. “Tell me you don’t want me to kiss you and I’ll step away.”
I keep on placing feathery kisses on his jaw, on the corner of his mouth, while Oliver stays rooted to the spot, unmoving. But his self-control doesn’t last long. His hand finds its way into my hair. He grabs a handful and tugs it, pulling my mouth away from his skin. He stares at me intensely before he crashes his lips against mine for a wild, merciless kiss. After all this time without him, his tongue tastes like the purest nectar, it infuses my body with heat, and I want to meld myself to him. With his free hand, Oliver pulls me flush against his body and I can’t miss the bulge of his erection pressing against my belly. I want to touch him, but he has me locked tight against his body. I can’t move, I can’t do anything besides be lost in his kiss.
A car honks in the background and Oliver pulls away. His breathing is shallow and his gaze is feverish, wild. Even in the darkness I can read the desire in his eyes.
“Oliver…”
He takes another step back, increasing the gap between us.
“We can’t do this, Saylor. Go back inside. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Sugar, you’ll thank me later.”
He turns on his heel and before I can stop him, he’s already sliding inside his car. He peels out of the parking lot as if the devil is after him.
Shit. What have I done?
Seventeen
OLIVER
I drive for hours, only going back home around four in the morning. Once there, I take a cold shower and still I can’t fall asleep. She kissed me. She fucking kissed me and I couldn’t do anything besides run the hell away. What other choice did I have? I couldn’t take advantage of her while she was drunk. But damn if it didn’t kill me to leave her behind while all I wanted was to get her into my car and fuck her until she screamed my name from the top of her lungs.
I head to the studio down in the basement. The place is immaculate, as if no one was ever here. All boxes have been emptied, flattened out, and disposed of. I turn the light on but keep it dimmed, and venture into the room. Saylor’s beloved guitar is in its case, propped up against the wall next to the amps. I touch the weathered case, but I know better than to open it. I got everyone brand new, top of the line instruments, everyone except Saylor. She would never have traded Rita—her guitar—for anything else.
I keep walking until I reach the acoustic guitar mounted on the far wall. This one I bought on a whim. I dabbled with the instrument when I was in high school, but I never got to play well enough to attempt a performance in public. No, the guitar had been Sebastian’s thing.
Still, I take the instrument from its place and sit on the leather couch, propping it on my knees. The first strums reverberate so loud in this empty room that they almost startle me. It takes me a few attempts before I can actually make a tolerable sound with it. Before I know it, I’m playing the only song I ever learned, Faith by George Michael. In high school, Bas was the casanova, the brooding guy every girl was in love with. So I bet with him that if I played this song, I could score more girls than him. I can’t remember if I did or not. I screwed my way through the female population of that prep school like I was on a mission, broke more fucking hearts than I could count. I was so rotten.
I don’t know how long I mess with the guitar, but I wake up with someone shaking my arm. I open my eyes with a start and sit up, not knowing where I am for a second.
“Relax, dude. It’s me. Did you sleep here?”
Charlotte peers at me with a smirk on her face and a cup of coffee in her hand.
I rub my eyes. “What time is it?”
“Ten o’clock.”
“Bloody hell. Why did you wake me up then?”
“Because Allan is already here, working like a bee.”
I grab her coffee and take a big sip of it.
“Hey! That wasn’t for you.”
I stand up and keep the beverage out of her reach. “Too bad. Shouldn’t have awakened me.”
“You’re such a jerk.”
I give her a toothy grin and walk out the door. Since I’m awake, might as well see what Allan is up to. I head to the common area—I can no longer call it the living room—and I find the guy already glued to his laptop. He has his headphones on, completely oblivious to the world around him, as he listens to his favorite tunes.
I clap his shoulder and he almost falls off his chair. Pushing his headphone off, he looks at me, startled. “Jesus fucking Christ, Oliver. You almost gave me a heart attack.”
I pull up a chair and peer at his laptop screen. “What are you doing working so early?”
“It’s ten in the morning. Garin asked me for content for the press release about Wreck of the Day. He thinks he can pitch a story to Teen Vogue provided that we can release a single within a couple of weeks.”
“Also, the CW is looking for songs for one of their new shows. They love up-and-coming bands. If they pick Wreck of the Day, that might even mean an appearance in one of the episodes.”
“It sounds like we need a couple of hits, then,” I say.
“I really like the song they ended their show with at Ray’s Venue. The audience responded really well to it.”
“Good. We can book studio recording time as soon as Saylor provides her clean bill of health.”
“Uh, what? You didn’t tell me you were asking the band that.”
“No, not everyone, just her.”
Allan stares at me through slits. “Why?”
“Because she’s fainted a couple of times in my presence.”
“Oh, shit. You don’t think she’s pregnant, do you?”
“No.” Not that it would be the end of the world if she were.
“Okay then. I’ll remind Saylor today.”
“Good, you do that. I’m going to grab some breakfast. Do you need anything?”
Allan shakes the white plastic bottle next to him. “No, thanks. I’m good. I’ve got my protein shake.”
I roll my eyes. “Suit yourself. I’ll see you in a few.”
Eighteen
SAYLOR
I wake up with the mother of all hangovers. My mouth is dry and it tastes like there’s something rotten inside. Slowly, I open my eyes and find out I fell asleep on my bed with last night’s clothes on.
Ugh. Last night. I have a vague memory of attacking Oliver’s mouth outside of the Goulas. Did that really happen? I can’t remember the last time I drank to the point of amnesia. I want to believe that it was all a dream, but the tingling sensation on my lips tells me that we did kiss.
What am I going to do?
A knock on my door interrupts my mini freak out moment.
“Saylor, are you up?”
The voice is muffled and my slower than usual brain takes some time to recognize it. “Yes, who is it?”
“It’s me, Mandy.”
“Mandy?”
I’m out of my bed in a flash, almost tripping over my discarded shoes as I stride out of my bedroom. I cross the small living space and take notice of its state of disarray. No time to worry about it now. I open the door all the way with a jerky movement, startling poor Mandy who had been looking away from it.
“What are you doing here? Did something happen?”
Mandy looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Jeez, how much did you drink last night? Did you forget about our breakfast date?”
I search my brain and come up empty. “Was it today?”
Mandy shakes her head and pushes me out of the way as she ventures into my small house. “Boy, I can’t believe I missed last night’s shenanigans.”
She stops in the middle of my living room and places her hands on her hips. “What happened here? Were you hit by a mini tornado?”
My gaze skids around the messy room. It definitely wasn’t like this before I left the house yesterday.
“Something like that. If only I could remember. My brain is fuzzy as hell.”
Mandy turns to look at me. “Come on. Hop into the shower and put some clean clothes on. I’m hungry.”
“Where are we going?”
“Some place down in Hermosa Beach one of my classmates told me about. I’ve been dying to go for ages.”
“Ugh, okay fine. Feel free to spread some of your organizational magic powers around.” I give her an impish grin and she rolls her eyes.
“You know I will. I can’t stand messy places. I swear if you hadn’t forgotten about our date, I would say you left your room untidy because you knew I was coming by.”
“Are you implying I’m taking advantage of your compulsive cleaning behavior, Monica Geller?”
Mandy throws a pillow at me. “I’m not Monica! Now shoo before I leave without you. Did you miss the part where I said I was hungry?”
An hour later, Mandy parks on a side street near the shore, and we walk to the café in Hermosa Beach she can’t stop gushing about. My headache has intensified, and now I have hunger pains to add to this fantastic morning. There was no coffee left in the kitchen at the Goulas residence by the time we left and my caffeine deprived body is running on fumes.
I’m never drinking again.
It’s already past ten in the morning and for a Tuesday, it’s pretty crowed. All tables outside are taken.
“They’re too busy. It will take forever for us to get any food. Let’s go to McDeath.”
“No way. I didn’t drive all the way here for nothing.” Mandy keeps on walking and I have no choice but to follow her.
I’m distracted and don’t see when she stops abruptly, so I bump into her.
“Wha—“
“Hey, isn’t that Oliver?” She points at a table at the far end of the outside area.
I follow her gaze and sure enough, Oliver is there, sitting alone at a table with his sunglasses on and a cup of coffee in front of him. He seems distracted, looking out at the ocean. A big knot forms in my throat and my heart does several back flips. Of all the cafes in Hermosa Beach, Mandy had to bring me to the one Oliver prefers. That’s just great.
Before I realize what Mandy is doing, she’s already walking in his direction.
“Where do you think you are going?” I whisper as I trail after her.
“I don’t think we’ll get a table any time soon and I’m starving.”
“I don’t want to sit with him.”
My reply falls on deaf ears, and it’s too late to bail without Oliver seeing us. He has already turned his face in our direction.
“Hi, Oliver. Do you remember me?” Mandy greets him and I frown at her back. When did she become this outgoing person?
“Mandy. Of course I remember you. How’s it going?”
“Pretty well. Are you here alone?”
Oliver tilts his head lightly and I know that he’s looking at me now, even with the sunglasses. “Yes. I’m here alone. Would you like to join me? I just put my order in.”
Mandy is already pulling up a chair. “If you don’t mind. Saylor is in a piss poor mood, and I’m afraid that if I don’t give her coffee soon, she will bite my head off.”
“You don’t say. Too much red wine last night perhaps?”
There’s no teasing smile on his lips and I swallow a snarky remark. He’s angry at me and he has every right to be. I can’t believe I threw myself at him last night.
“Yes, it seems so. The Goulas are party animals. I can’t remember a thing.” I lie. Some details are fuzzy, but I vividly remember kissing him last night.
Oliver only nods, he doesn’t make a comment to my statement. I wonder if he believes me or not.
The waitress returns to our table and I order a large cup of coffee before anything else. Five minutes later, after small talk carried on by Mandy and Oliver, my friend excuses herself to go the restroom, living me alone with him.
I pretend to be very busy with my coffee.
“I came to the Goulas last night. Do you remember that at least?” Oliver asks casually.
“Yes.” I don’t make eye contact.
“Bloody hell, sugar. You can look me in the eye.”
I glare at him. “It would be easier if you didn’t have your sunglasses on.”
He pushes the accessory up his head. “Better now? Listen, you don’t need to walk on eggshells around me. What happened last night wasn’t a big deal. We have a past, you were drunk, it was just a kiss. No harm, no foul.”
My jaw drops. Here I was worrying he would be pining over me. It seems he has truly moved on, despite what his sister says.
“I’m sorry about that. It won’t happen again.”
He takes another sip of his coffee before he continues, “I actually came to the Goulas last night because I wanted to talk to you.”
I lean back and cross my arms. “If you’re going to ask about my health certificate, I already got an appointment with my doctor.”
“No, it’s not about that, but it’s good to know. We need to start recording A.S.A.P. There are two things I want to discuss with you. The first is about the collaboration with Scott Rowan. He didn’t like any of the songs we sent him. I believe they are too edgy and different from his style and we want to meet him in the middle.”
“What exactly do you have in mind?”
“A ballad.”
If Oliver had asked me to write a slow song a few months ago, I would have had no problem doing so. But writing a love song in my current state of mind, I don’t know how I’ll be able to do it without revealing it’s about him.
“When do you need it?”
“As soon as possible.”
I groan and look at the ocean. I’m a professional. I can do it.
“What’s the second thing you wanted to discuss with me?”
Oliver glances over my shoulder. “We can talk later.”
I follow his gaze and see Mandy coming our way. He already mentioned my faux pas so whatever he wants to discuss with me won’t have to do with our relationship. We just talked business which leaves me dying out of curiosity. What does he want to say that he can’t in front of Mandy? I guess I’ll just have to wait.
“I want to tell you something as well,” I say.
Oliver raises an eyebrow at me. “Okay. Go ahead.”
“Nah, we can talk later.”
I smirk at him. I could tell him about the Senator in front of Mandy. She knows about him, too. But I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to tease Oliver as well.
“Touché.”
He finally grants me a smile and my stupid heart reacts accordingly. Moronic, useless muscle.
Nineteen
OLIVER
I decide to order my breakfast to go and leave the beach side café as fast as I can. I came there for some time alone with my thoughts, and being around Saylor so soon after that damn kiss is not helping me get my mind in order.
I was glad she didn’t react badly to my news that Scott Rowan didn’t like any of her songs. Maybe she was still feeling too mortified about the kiss to give me any grief over it. I almost told her about the note I found then and there, but in hindsight, her friend’s interruption worked out for the best. That wasn’t the right place to drop the bomb on her.
In the end, I didn’t need solitude but a busy day at work. Who knew I would enjoy working behind the scenes of the music industry so much? The day goes by fast and I don’t even notice how late it is when Charlotte comes bouncing into the living room, all dolled up to go out.
“What are you guys doing? It’s past eleven o’clock.”
I give her an elevator glance and raise an eyebrow at her. “And where are you going this late on a Tuesday night?”
Charlotte rolls her eyes. “Seriously? I’m meeting friends for drinks, not that it’s any of your business.”
“Whatever. I thought you wanted to move to L.A. for school, not for a change of party scenery.”
“Who says I can’t do both? Besides, I can only start school next semester. I need to occupy my time.”
>
She heads to the door and Allan shuts off his laptop.
“I should get home. I’m beat.”
I’m ready to hit the sack myself. I know the girls were using the studio today. I heard them practice earlier, but Renegades HQ is ultra quiet now.
I turn off my laptop as well, but before I head to my room, I take the stairs down to the basement. I don’t know why I feel the need to check the studio out, everyone must be long gone. There’s a faint light coming from under the studio’s door. Someone must have forgotten to shut it off. I push the door open, expecting to find the room empty, but I see Saylor sitting on the couch with an acoustic guitar propped on her knee and a piece of paper next to her. She looks up when she hears me.
“What are you still doing here?” I ask.
“How late is it?”
“It’s almost midnight. Allan just left.”
She puts the guitar away and stretches her arms. “Shit. I lost track of time.”
My eyes involuntarily drop to her chest and I try my best to keep my cock from reacting as I walk closer.
“Are you working on the ballad?”
Saylor drops her arms to the sides and lets out a sigh. “Yes. It’s awful.”
“Impossible.” I pick up the sheet she had been working on.
“No, it really is. I haven’t written a ballad in a long time.”
I pull up a chair and take a seat in front of her. “Play it for me?”
Saylor’s eyes widen a fraction as panic seems to flitter in her gaze. What is she afraid of?
“Come on. It can’t be that bad.”
“Alright. But you can’t rescind your contract after you listen to this.”
“I won’t.” I smile, hoping to encourage her.
She picks up the guitar again and plays the first two verses of her work in progress. I didn’t know how much listening to her sing, accompanied only by an acoustic guitar, would affect me. My heart is thundering in my chest and I’m afraid she can hear it from where she sits.
“I told you it was bad.”
I shake my head to get my brain to work again. “No, it’s not bad at all. I like the melody, but maybe we could tweak some verses in the lyrics.”