Taut Strings: A Rock Star Romance (River Valley Rebels)

by Gabrielle Sands

  A minute later, we were sitting back down and digging into the tiramisu.

  “By the way, Molly,” Ezra told her when we were halfway through dessert. “I know we’re keeping Adeline away from you during your last few weeks at home. If you ever want to swing by the studio, you’re more than welcome.”

  “Thanks, I may take you up on that,” she answered. “When she’s not with you guys, she’s at the gym or at the bar, so I need to try to get as much time with her as I can somewhere.”

  “You work out?” Silas asked, glancing at me.

  “Yeah. Helps me clear my mind,” I responded with a shrug.

  Molly laughed. “Don’t let that overly casual response fool you. Adeline’s a gym rat. She says it’s her church. I say she goes there to ogle the hot guys.”

  I wanted to kill my sister. Instead, I gave her a tight smile that I hoped was effective at communicating how dead she was going to be when we got back home.

  “To be fair, I’m sure they’re all ogling her, too,” Cole chirped, and I turned my attention to him.

  He sat leaning back in his chair, a devious smirk on his face, and leisurely surveyed whatever he could see of me.

  I grew warm under his examination. I liked my body. It wasn’t too muscular but was well defined and most importantly, strong. Sure, the look wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but I didn’t train so that men would find me attractive. Still, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t feel a little proud of the results of my hard work.

  Trying to will my growing blush away, I said the first thing that came to mind. “If any of you guys ever want to train before or after one of our sessions, let me know. I could always use a partner.”

  “How about tomorrow?” Ezra immediately asked.

  I hadn’t expected any of them to take me up on the offer this quickly. Clearly, I’d misjudged.

  I nodded at the drummer, keeping my expression carefully neutral. “Sure. Let’s meet at eight.”

  By the time we bid the guys goodbye and got into the car to drive home, it was almost nine. Relief swept through me, like I’d just finished a final exam and knew there’d be no more classes on Monday. I hadn’t realized just how much tension I’d been holding all evening until it bled into the air around me and disappeared.

  “That was so fun,” Molly gushed, scrolling through the pictures she’d taken and labelling the ones she liked the most. She was animated, her eyes bright in the reflection of the glowing screen.

  I put the car in Drive and began to pull out of the lot. “Next time, if there is a next time, could you try not to embarrass me?”

  She snorted, obviously not threatened by my tone.

  “I couldn’t embarrass you in front of those guys if I tried. Ade, they’re all crushing on you. Hard.”

  I furrowed my brows, trying to remember if my sister had had an opportunity to sneak some alcohol at dinner. “What are you talking about?”

  My peripheral vision dimmed as she tapped the phone off and lowered her hands into her lap. Something about the movement struck me as particularly serious.

  “They were staring at you all night, Ade, looking away when they thought you might catch them, then drifting right back when your attention was elsewhere. It’s like you have some kind of a gravitational pull on them.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I dismissed. “You’re imagining things.”

  I could feel her looking at me, trying to read something in my face. “You didn’t notice it because you were too focused on making sure I didn’t tell them too much about who you are. Next time, pay attention and you’ll know exactly what I mean.”

  I bristled at her calm, assured tone. “They’re my coworkers, Mol. My employers, actually. They don’t need to know all that much about me, and I didn’t appreciate you volunteering information like it was yours to give. It’s not professional.”

  “Why are you trying to draw this firm line between them and you? People make friends at work all the time. People get married to their coworkers, for God’s sake. Our parents worked together right out of college and were married a year later. Half the people at their wedding were coworkers who felt responsible for getting them together. Mom showed me pictures from the wedding and pointed out the crying office manager who set them up on their very first lunch to go over some reports. You’re being weird about this. I think I know why, and it has nothing to do with you wanting to be professional.”

  Sometimes I forgot how shrewd my sister could be. It was easy to classify her as a typical Gen Z teenager, obsessed with appearances and likes and online popularity, but beneath the superficial outer layer, she held a deep understanding of people and the world around her. I didn’t know if it was instinctual or a result of what we’d gone through, but she’d managed to surprise me many times.

  “You’re overthinking it.”

  “I’m not,” she countered. “You see something in them that scares you. They are what you could’ve been if you hadn’t given up on your dream after a single rejection. Not only that, I think you’re starting to realize you can still choose to pursue that dream, but the prospect of putting yourself out there again terrifies you. So you’re keeping your distance, treating it like any other job. Pretending it’s not fate sending you a message.”

  I kept my mouth shut, not knowing what to say. I wanted to tell her she was wrong, that she’d misread things, but I couldn’t do it. I felt at home in the studio, much like I did inside a concert venue. Despite the tension with Abel, I was thoroughly enjoying working with the guys, and spending all day making music. Was I worried about getting used to this? About filling my head with old dreams that hadn’t panned out once and were unlikely to ever pan out? Yeah, I was. But that was because I was smarter now than I’d been at seventeen. Being chosen for this four-week project was just a lucky accident, and lucky accidents didn’t translate into a career that paid the bills.

  And if fate was sending me a message, how was I supposed to interpret the fluttering sensations I got when Ezra smiled at me, or when Silas taught me something, or when Cole pulled me into a friendly embrace? What about the goosebumps that erupted over my skin whenever Abel’s intense gaze landed on me? If fate was doing anything, it was playing some messed-up mind games with me.

  Molly sighed at my silence, and there was something akin to pity in the sound. “Don’t be so quick to cut them off, Ade. All I’m asking you to do is to give them and yourself a chance.”

  That night, I lay in bed, staring at my ceiling and the faded glow-in-the-dark stars I had stuck up there when I was thirteen. My phone buzzed on the nightstand beside my head. It was Molly sending me the pictures from the dinner.

  I clicked on the first thumbnail. She had taken a shot before we were ready, when Abel and I were still looking at each other, and the rest of the guys stood angled in our direction. My breath hitched in my chest. I couldn’t read their expressions, but there was something possessive in their body language. Their attention was all squarely on me.

  What if Molly was right? What if they were interested in me?

  No. That was a possibility I could not allow myself to explore. This gig was too important, I needed that twenty grand, and I was enjoying the process way too much to jeopardize it by doing something stupid. As I began to drift off to sleep, another thought flickered inside the darkness of my mind.

  If I felt like being stupid, who would I even choose?

  ADELINE

  In the morning, Ezra showed up at the gym seconds after me, just as the clock ticked past eight. He wore a loose hoodie over what looked like a tank top, and shorts that stopped mid-thigh, sparing very little of his muscled flesh from my sight.

  I had to have a pep talk with myself in the mirror in the locker room. Forget about what Molly said. They’re not crushing on you. You’re the first woman to ever work with them on an album, so a curious look here and there means absolutely nothing. Don’t stare at his ass. Don’t stare at his thighs. Above all, don’t stare at his crotch, no mat
ter how it bulges from beneath his shorts.

  Ezra was waiting for me at the squat rack. His hoodie was off, and the arm holes of his tank top were cut low enough for me to see the muscles running up his ribs and the taut outline of his side abs.

  Dear God.

  “Do you need to warm up?” he asked, giving me a friendly smile.

  “I jogged around the neighborhood this morning before coming. Let’s just do a quick warmup set before loading up.”

  We squatted with the bar before starting to put on more weight for each set. I was weak. I stared at his excellent glutes while I spotted him. Then, when we moved on to the leg press, I couldn’t help but appreciate the striations in his calves. He wasn’t bulky, like many of the roid-bros at the gym, but his body was tight and defined in all the right places. He looked like he could fuck for hours standing up, holding all of my weight on him.

  I groaned at that thought, earning a curious glance from him. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, just getting a bit sore,” I lied. “I think I’m ready to wrap up after the next set. It’s almost nine.”

  By the time we finished, I was a sweaty mess, as was typical for leg day. We collapsed onto a big mat and started to stretch.

  “Want me to help?” Ezra asked while I was doing pigeon pose on the ground.

  The thought of his hands on me made my thighs clench.

  I should say no.

  “Sure.”

  A second later, two warm hands were pressing down on my lower back, pushing me deeper into the stretch. It felt divine, the perfect blend of pain and pleasure. I groaned for the second time in an hour, earning a chuckle from him. “Flip onto your back.”

  I did as I was told, and he kneeled by my side, lifting one of my legs and hooking it in front of his shoulder. His reddish hair was messy, and a strand was sticking to his forehead. He looked delicious.

  “Where did you learn this?” I asked, my eyelids fluttering in pleasure.

  “Thailand. I spent a few months there when we weren’t touring a few years ago. Took a course in Thai massage,” he explained, while inching my leg farther up.

  “That must’ve been nice to live in a foreign country for a while.”

  “It was one of the best things I’ve ever done,” he said. “Being away from everything allowed me to really relax. During those two months, I was only responsible for myself, and I felt so light for once.”

  I forced my eyes open to meet his gaze. “Do you feel responsible for the rest of the guys?”

  In the quiet moments during our rehearsals, I’d often see Ezra staring out into space with a sorrowful expression, as if something had taken him out of the present moment. He wore that same look on his face now, and I could tell he was looking at me without really seeing me.

  “Ezra?” I asked gently.

  He blinked and saw me once again. “I do. They’re my brothers.”

  Slowly, he lowered my leg and came over to the other side. “Abel is our front man onstage, but behind the scenes, I fell into some kind of a leadership role when we first started.”

  “I can see why,” I told him with a smile. “You have a knack for it.”

  The corners of his lips turned up. “What do you mean?”

  “You just seem to have a calming presence over the other guys. They listen to you. I think they’d be tearing each other’s heads off without you,” I told him.

  His fingers traveled down to my thigh, rubbing my quads with firm strokes. I had to bite back another moan.

  “I can see how playing that role could get exhausting, though,” I added after a moment, thinking about how I felt something similar at times when it came to Molly.

  “Yeah,” he agreed. “I just feel like I… Well, you’re probably going to think I’m an awful person for saying this, but sometimes I just want to stop playing that role. Then, when things go wrong with the band, maybe I won’t feel so goddamn guilty about it.”

  Ezra finished with my right leg, and I propped myself up on my elbows to look at him.

  “I don’t think you’re an awful person at all. In fact, I’ve felt that way myself before.”

  “With Molly?”

  I swallowed. Did I want to tell him about our situation?

  “It’s admirable that you’re trying to help your parents pay for her education,” he continued, and I bit back the truth I was about to share with him. “Taking that on must feel like a lot.”

  He curled his fingers around my calf and started to massage it, earning a hiss from me.

  “Yeah. Well, it’s the right thing to do.”

  Ezra nodded, keeping his focus on his hands. I plopped back down on the mat and tried to keep my brain from turning into mush. Despite the heavy topic, his hands were working magic on my body, and heat was pooling between my legs. He switched to my other calf, and I bit my lip, telling myself that getting turned on in the middle of the gym floor was completely inappropriate.

  “You’re really tight,” he noted at some point, and I blubbered something incomprehensible in response as my mind definitely went there.

  When Ezra’s face hovered over mine, I was sure he could make out my blush.

  “Done.” His cheeks also wore some color, but that must be from the workout we’d just done.

  As we walked toward the change rooms, a young woman stopped Ezra and asked him for an autograph. She gave him admiring looks as he signed inside a notebook she produced before asking for a hug.

  “I’m all sweaty,” he explained with a rueful smile.

  “Oh, I don’t mind,” the fan assured him. I couldn’t hold back a snort, and Ezra gave me a dark look in response.

  “I’ll…see you outside,” I told him and rushed to the shower.

  When I came out, Ezra stood by the door with two smoothies, and I burst out laughing at the embarrassed expression on his face.

  “She’s never going to wash that shirt again,” I told him as he handed me one of the drinks.

  “Hey, you gotta do what you gotta do to please the fans.”

  “I think you underdelivered over there if you were looking to really please her,” I teased, earning a gruff laugh in response.

  “So does that happen often to you guys?” I asked him as we walked through the parking lot.

  “It’s not so bad here. River Valley is small enough, and people are used to seeing us around every few years. In LA, it’s definitely crazier. We’ve had people follow us to our homes, or burst into hysterics when they meet us, which can get messy. We like interacting with fans and always try to take the time to chat and whatnot, but sometimes it does get a bit intense,” he concluded.

  “Poor you,” I said in a mocking voice, “having to deal with all those nubile fans throwing themselves at your feet.”

  He laughed again. “It’s a tough life.”

  I noticed he didn’t deny that it did happen, and I felt a pang of irrational jealousy. He was a rock star, for fuck’s sake. Of course he slept with groupies. Even if he weren’t a famous musician, his looks alone would ensure his bed never got too cold.

  When we made it into the studio to begin working on the second track, the rest of the band was already there.

  “You guys have that post-workout glow,” Cole commented. “It’s not too different from Ezra’s post-coital glow, actually. You are coming from the gym, right?”

  I choked on my smoothie. Ezra came to my aid by slapping me on the back.

  “Jesus, Cole. You want to kill her? Adeline’s not used to your dirty mouth.”

  “If you want to get more familiar with it, Ade, just let me know. It takes appointments, especially with beautiful women.”

  Thankfully, I had recovered enough to respond to that myself. “I’m sure you’re all booked up for the rest of the year.”

  Cole grinned, “I’ll clear my calendar for you.” His hazel eyes zeroed in on me, and the devilish grin on his lips set fire to my insides.

  “Are you going to flirt all day, or are we going to play
some music?” Abel snapped in an irritated voice, and I turned away from the bassist. After my morning with Ezra, how the hell was I now also turned on by Cole?

  The next song we rehearsed quickly proved to be challenging. The bridge had a rapid arpeggio that I kept messing up, and I was getting increasingly frustrated.

  Abel had spent the past half hour watching me like a hawk, which only added to my irritation. He hadn’t said anything, but that somehow made it even worse. I was sure he was judging me silently, probably trying to figure out how to fire me without the rest of the guys getting up in arms about it.

  When it came time for lunch, I volunteered to pick it up with Silas. I needed a break to clear my head and let my fingers rest. Sometimes stopping and coming back to a difficult track was what it took to get through it.

  “The studio is closed tomorrow,” Silas told me as we pulled up to a drive-through.

  “How come?” I asked, pulling out the scrap of paper where we’d written down everyone’s orders.

  “They’re doing some maintenance.”

  I rattled off the order, and we moved to the other window. “Shit. I wanted to come in early tomorrow to keep practicing.”

  Silas dug in his pocket before pulling out a credit card and handing it to me. “Here, put it on our expense account. If you want, you can come over, and I’ll help you work on it at my place. I had an extra bedroom soundproofed a few years back so that the neighbors wouldn’t complain about me playing at all hours of the night.”

  I couldn’t very well pass up on some one-on-one coaching from Silas. He was a good and patient teacher, and every time he offered me feedback, it made me a better player.

  “That would be awesome.” I glanced at him while waiting for the cashier to return the card. “I have a shift at the bar at six pm, but I can come in the early afternoon if that works for you.”

  “Let’s plan for one pm?”

  “That works great. Are you sure you want to spend your day off helping me?” I asked, not wanting him to feel like he owed me anything. “I can keep practicing on my own if you just want a day to chill.”