Fallen Stars (Stone Bay Series Book 3)

Chapter 10

Drivingthrough the Stone Bay amphitheater lot, I steer the car toward the section designated for Seven members. Barely after ten in the morning, the place is packed.

Shuttles transport residents and tourists in from the overflow parking at town hall and the performing arts center. Clusters of people swarm the gates. Children dance and talk animatedly as they tug their parents toward the carnival games and rides. Hints of fried food and sugar and salt float through the air. Upbeat music bounces off the amphitheater and echoes for miles.

I loiter next to my car near the entrance and compose myself. Mentally prepare to walk around with Abigail all day and appear genuinely happy to be her boyfriend.

Thinking of anyone other than Oliver as mine makes me queasy. Although the shift in our relationship is new and we haven’t put a label on what we are, the idea of being with anyone else is unfathomable.

But this thing with Abigail gets our families off our backs—mostly—and allows us the freedom to spend time with who we want to without being lectured.

After dinner with Oliver, Emina, and Nero, Oliver and I hung out in his apartment for hours. Sat pressed against each other on the couch and watched a movie. And then another. When he took my hand and threaded our fingers, I held on to his tighter than comfortable.

Opening myself up to him is the best decision I’ve made. Scary as hell, too, but worth every terrifying second.

Late in the night, I held his face in my hands and devoured his lips once more. Every cell in my body screamed to stay at his place. Pleaded with me to strip him bare and get to know him in a new way. Whispered in my ear to lie with him and fall asleep with our limbs tangled until the sun came up.

But Oliver needed to be up early for the festival, and I didn’t want to fuck up this incredible opportunity for him or the band. So, I went home. Alone.

Before my head hit the pillow, I sifted through and cleared out notifications on my phone. It’s then that I noticed a missed text from Abigail, the timestamp during dinner at the Moss house.

Abi

We should ride together tomorrow. For appearances.

Well after one in the morning, my reply was simple.

no

When I woke a couple hours ago and checked my phone, she hadn’t responded. Not that I care either way. It’s best to keep the lines drawn and visible. If that upsets her, it’s not my problem.

Inhaling a deep breath, I head for the gates, enter the pandemonium, drop a couple hundred dollars in the charity donation box, and linger in the periphery of the crowd. This isn’t the first town event I’ve attended—as a member of a founding family, we are more or less obligated to appear—but I am one of the few Seven that shies away from the crowd.

“There you are.” Voice saccharine sweet, Abigail approaches with her parents, brother, and a young boy. She invades my personal space and hooks her arm around mine. Glowing smile on her face, she leans into my side. “Have you met my nephew, Tucker?”

I force down the urge to yank my arm free and shove her away. This whole situation is my fault, but I never gave her consent to touch me without advanced warning. Something we will discuss today.

Lips pursed, I shake my head. “No, I haven’t.”

Ray Calhoun III—also known by many as Tré—extends a hand my way. “Been a while.”

I ease out of Abigail’s hold and take his hand. His grip is firm, a hint calloused, but otherwise benevolent. “Nice to see you again.”

Hand on the boy’s back, Ray nudges him forward. “This is my son, Tucker. Tucker, this is Levi West, Aunt Abi’s boyfriend.”

I mentally cringe and pray it doesn’t show on my face.

“He does all kinds of cool stuff with computers.”

A spitting image of his father, Tucker doesn’t give me an ounce of attention. “Can we play games now?” Annoyance laces his tone and I bite my cheek to keep from laughing.

I’m over it too, kid.

Ray III shrugs and chuckles. “Priorities.” And then he steers Tucker away from the group and heads for the row of games.

Abigail shifts closer. I counter her move, add a few more inches of space between us, and cross my arms firmly over my chest. Her smile falters for a beat, but returns fast enough for others not to notice.

“Levi,” Angel Calhoun says, my name sunny and refined on her tongue. “Abigail says you’ve been working a tremendous number of hours recently.” She sips the mimosa in her hand. “Is it on a project with your father?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Undoubtedly, my father continues to give the impression I will follow in his footsteps and assume a role in town politics. As though what I do professionally is unsavory.

“No, ma’am. Politics aren’t my thing.” Nor is my father. “I’m a partner at Tymber Woulf Security and Investigative Services. We recently took on a large case and it’s kept us quite busy.”

“Busy enough to lessen your time with Abigail.” It’s more a statement than a question and she says it with practiced finesse. Though her tone doesn’t come across as irritated, I read between the lines effortlessly. Angel Calhoun wants the best for her daughter.

If only she knew I am not what’s best for her. Unless she wants a friend.

“I barely have time for myself.”

As the words leave my mouth, my parents, brother, and his girlfriend enter my periphery. My mood instantly plummets.

Less than an hour into the day and I want to rip my hair out. The facade, the elitist mentality, the mountain of bullshit… I am more than over it.

Artificial smile on his face, my father pats my back. “Stubborn, this one. But we’ll get him in town hall sooner or later.”

“Or never,” I mutter, stepping away from him.

The group sparks up generic conversation about things that don’t hold my interest. As my father gloats about himself and what he’s done to improve Stone Bay, an uneasy sensation sparks to life in my chest. Seeing as my attention isn’t focused on the group chatter, it isn’t anything they’ve said that has me ill at ease. No, this feeling is… different. As though I’m being watched.

I scan the group and find no one looking my way. So I widen my search. Visually roam the bustling crowd. Flit from one person to the next and search for anyone with eyes on us. One face after another, I come up empty.

A hand on my forearm startles me and I catch the last of Angel’s words. “…leave these two be and let them have the day together.”

“Thanks, Mom.” Abigail kisses Angel on the cheek, then her dad, Ray Jr. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

The families disperse and we are left alone. Abigail inches closer to me, but I skirt away from her and maintain a comfortable distance.

“Sorry,” she mutters. “Just trying to keep up appearances.”

“Whatever.” The word comes out a little cold. I take a deep breath and try to dial down my inner asshole. “This was my idea, I know. But I’m not comfortable with touching. At all.”

She pulls her phone out of her pocket and drops her attention to the screen. “They think we’re a couple, Levi. Couples touch each other.”

Although she has a point, my counterpoint is better. “True. People that want to be in a relationship do touch each other.”

A soft hum dances over my skin and I scan the crowd once more, looking for Oliver.

“But we were forced into this,” I continue. “Fake dating was a solution to shut our families up. This, our fake relationship, is all for show. Remember?” I glance at her out of the corner of my eye. “You have a boyfriend. And I have… my own life.”

“Yes.” A smile brightens her expression. “I know this is fake. I know I have a boyfriend.” She scans the crowd. “But shouldn’t we be a little more convincing around our families?”

“No.” I widen and cut that invisible line separating us deeper. “Not all couples do PDA. Considering neither of us wanted this for years, it wouldn’t be weird for us not to touch.”

“Fine,” she huffs out as a man in khaki shorts and a navy button-down approaches. In a blink, her entire mood shifts. At the sight of him, Abigail comes to life.

“Hey, baby.” He steps into her, wraps his arms around her waist, and hoists her off the ground. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

Abigail giggles as he peppers her neck with kisses. “Put me down.” She playfully slaps his shoulder but has a look that begs him to never let go.

When her feet finally hit the ground, he hooks an arm around her shoulders and tugs her into his side. “Hey, man.” He extends his free hand. “You must be Levi. I’m Desmond.”

Strange as this is, I take his hand. “Nice to put a face to the name.”

“Same.” He presses his lips to her hair, kissing her often. As if he will never have his fill. “Thanks for doing this for her.” He waves a hand around. “The fake boyfriend thing.”

“It’s not weird to you?”

He glances down at Abigail at the same time she looks up at him. “At first, yeah.” His gaze returns to mine. “But after hours of explaining it, I get it. Quid pro quo.” He shrugs. “Abi’s still mine and her parents aren’t on her ass every day to marry some rich guy she barely knows.”

Guess that’s a good way to look at it.

Desmond changes the direction of the conversation and asks questions to get to know me. I do the same in return. And the more we chat, the more I like him. A nurse at the retirement home, he’s quite passionate about caring for others, especially the elderly. Overall, he’s a pretty chill guy. Likable. Kind.

The hum from earlier is back and stronger than before. I scan the crowd and, after a moment, spot Oliver. Our eyes meet and the low hum morphs into this endless rush. I can’t help but smile as I wave him over.

Oliver sidles up to me, a bright, toothy smile on his handsome face. “Been looking for you. You just get here?”

“Half hour or so ago.” My hand twitches at my side, desperate to touch him. So I shove it in my pocket. “Ollie, this is Abi and her boyfriend, Desmond.”

They exchange hugs and handshakes. Desmond studies Oliver a moment, his brows pinching together. My stomach knots the longer he looks, as if he’s trying to puzzle him out. Maybe who Oliver is to me.

“You the drummer in Hailey’s Fire?”

Relief washes over me at his question.

“I am.” A blinding smile lifts the corners of Oliver’s lips. “You’ve seen us play?”

“A couple times. Love the sound. Like old school and alternative with a twist.”

Oliver reaches up and grabs the back of his neck. It’s not a nervous habit of his I’ve seen. But maybe it’s equivalent to my hand in my pocket.

He wants to touch me and can’t. Not here.

“That’s the vibe we’re going for.” He nods, then turns his attention toward me. “I need to get back.” He gestures over his shoulder with a pointed thumb. “We go on soon. But I wanted to find you and say hi. Maybe we can hang after?”

I feel Abigail’s eyes on us. Hear her unspoken questions lingering in the air. I do my best to ignore it and focus on Oliver.

“Sounds good.”

Unexpectedly, Oliver closes the distance between us, wraps his arms around me, and slaps my back once. A hug most would see as friendly. But I don’t miss the extra squeeze at the end before he releases me.

“Cool.” Turning to Abigail and Desmond, he gives a brief wave. “Was nice meeting you. Enjoy the show.” And then he jogs off.

Desmond releases Abigail, cups her cheeks, and kisses her as if no one is watching. It’s uncomfortable to witness and ends quickly. Thank goodness. He rests his forehead on hers. “I should go too. Shift starts in an hour.”

Giving them privacy, I walk to the pretzel cart nearby and order two pretzels and lemonades. As I’m handed the order, Abigail approaches the cart. I hand her a drink and pretzel then grab us napkins.

“Thanks,” she whispers, her sunny disposition gone.

We wander over to a cluster of shaded picnic tables and sit across from each other. Several minutes pass in silence as we pick at our pretzels and get lost in our own thoughts. As I pop a piece of pretzel in my mouth, she speaks up.

“So, Ollie…” She stares down at the table. “He’s your boyfriend?”

I clutch my throat as the bite of pretzel gets lodged and cuts off my airway. Repeatedly, I smack my chest. Fire flames my face as sweat coats my skin.

Abigail bolts from her seat. “Oh god.” A second later, she hits my back. Hard. “Shit.” Thwack.

Someone at a nearby table comes over, my face hot with embarrassment and lack of oxygen. Arms band around my chest, fists situate beneath my ribs, then there’s a forceful thrust up. In one go, the bite dislodges and I gasp for air.

“Slow and steady,” the man coaches.

Once I catch my breath, I guzzle half my drink and thank the man. Soon, the chaos and excitement at the tables dies down. I do my best to ignore what prompted my near-death experience in the first place. Abigail’s question.

But of course, she isn’t having it.

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

I don’t answer.

“No one knows, I assume.”

Still, I remain tight-lipped.

She reaches forward and sets a hand near me on the table. “I won’t say anything.” A softness fills her expression, something akin to sympathy. “Promise.”

My molars gnash together. “Can we talk about something else? Anything else?”

“Sure. Sorry.” She winces, then lifts her hand from the table and holds it between us. “Let’s agree now. Friends, and nothing more.”

Personally, I want to throw this whole situation in the trash. Forget I ever brought it up. But Abigail is a nice person. Her boyfriend is a great guy. They deserve happiness. As do I. We need to make this work for a little longer. Until I wrap up this case at work and have time to sort out my personal life.

I can do this. Be friends with Abigail.

For her. For me. So she can be with Desmond. So I can be with Oliver.

Reaching across the table, I take her hand. “Friends. Nothing more.”

Will this day fucking end already?

What I thought would be two or three hours of schmoozing and appeasing my and Abigail’s parents has turned into an all-day event.

When Hailey’s Fire started their set, Abigail and I moved closer to the stage. Teens and adults cheered and whistled and sang along with their songs. Hailey riled up the crowd as Trip plucked the strings of his bass, his gaze on Hailey more often than not. And Oliver… fuck, he looked fantastic behind the drums. Sweat beading his skin and dampening his hair. The way his muscular arms contracted and flexed as he got lost in the music.

Every show I’ve been to, every practice I watch, my eyes are locked on Oliver most of the set. I admit my attraction to him plays a major role in my ogling. But it isn’t just that. When Oliver sits behind his drums, something magical and inexplicable happens. He isn’t just playing music. He is the music.

But it’s been hours since Hailey’s Fire played their last song. Hours since I’ve seen Oliver. And too many hours of close proximity with my family and the Calhouns.

My father has informed no less than two hundred people that Abigail and I are dating. Bragging that he knew years ago we would be a perfect match. Oblivious of reality, my father couldn’t be further from the truth.

String and post lights glow around us, gradually outshining the fading sun. For the umpteenth time, I scan the crowd for Oliver. When his set ended, he probably stayed with Hailey and Trip or sought out Kirsten, Skylar, and Delilah—his other close friends.

The air around me shifts and grows insufferable with each breath. Goose bumps dance over my skin as my stomach cramps uncomfortably.

“Would you stop fidgeting?”

I jolt then stiffen as my mind registers my father’s voice. Clench my fingers into fists until my knuckles burn. Gnash my molars as irritation ripples through my veins.

Twisting to look at my father, I keep my expression blank. “If I actually wanted to be here, if any of this interested me, it’d be a nonissue.”

His top lip twitches as annoyance sparks in his eyes. Countless unspoken words linger in the air between us. But he won’t give them a voice. Not now. Not when the majority of the town watches on. Not when his true persona may jeopardize his mayoral role and the townsfolk’s perception of him.

One thing matters to Jefferson Thornhill-West. His public persona. After that, my mother and brother.

“Did you not agree to join Abigail today?” He glances down at his watch, purses his lips, then shifts his gaze to the sky. “Your behavior reflects on her now that you’re together.”

I jerk back an inch as my nails dig into my palms. “You have got to be fucking joking.”

“Watch how you speak to me, boy.”

With a subtle shake of my head, I shift my attention to the crowd and let my eyes lose focus. For a moment, I lose sight of my surroundings. Then fire licks my skin as fury heats my blood. In a blink, everything sharpens.

“I’m not a fucking boy,” I grit out. “And I’m not some damn toy to dress up and flaunt around town.” My hands twitch at my sides as I glance at his profile. “I am not you. Nor do I ever want to be.”

I need to get out of here. Now.

One foot in front of the other, I walk away from my version of hell.

“Where are you going?”

I don’t stop or spare a glance over my shoulder, which will undoubtedly anger him more. “To piss.”

Weaving through the endless sea of townsfolk, I slow when I spot Oliver in the distance with friends. Vivid, addictive smile on his handsome face, he laughs a beat before Skylar shoves his shoulder. And then his laughter dies down as awareness lights his expression. His attention darts from one person to the next in the crowd until our eyes lock.

Under his surveillance, I come alive. For the first time in hours, I take a full, deep breath.

An odd pang surfaces in my gut. An edgy spasm in my side. Both of them small, bitter reminders that I’m not an anonymous person in Stone Bay. That I have eyes on me.

I jerk my chin away from the main festivities. Oliver gives me a nod, but waits to follow.

The farther I get from the food and games and entertainment, the fewer people I pass. Twilight fades as darkness sets in. The last tent glows behind me as I trek farther and head for the trees, desperate for the obscurity, eager for the anonymity.

Leaning against an evergreen trunk, I face the festival and wait for Oliver. Equally as eager to see me, he doesn’t make me wait long.

Backlit by the party lights, I lick my lips as my eyes trail down his silhouette. The closer he gets, the more my eyes adjust and take all of him in.

He’s changed since the show. A black graphic tee hugs his biceps, but rests comfortably over his chest. Loose-fitting jeans sit low on his hips and only serve to amplify his natural swagger. And fuck me, he looks mouthwatering.

The moment he spots me next to the tree, he picks up his pace. Heart pounding in my chest, he gifts me a smile I swear he reserves for me.

“You’re still here.”

Pushing off the tree, I nod as I inch closer to him. “You looked great on stage.” I tap the side of my legs over and over. “Couldn’t take my eyes off you.” Saliva pools in my mouth and I swallow. “The crowd loved you.”

Oliver stands inches away, the heat of him dancing over my skin. His finger hooks in the belt loop of my pants and he tugs me closer. “Don’t want to talk about the show.”

“No?”

The show is the last thing I want to talk about. But the swirl of nervous energy and adrenaline throughout my body has me rambling and twitchy.

Breath warm on my lips, he shakes his head. “Later.”

“Later,” I repeat and take a deep, shuddering inhale.

Before I exhale, Oliver’s mouth is on mine. Urgent and greedy and unrelenting. He licks the seam of my lips and I quiver before opening up for him. His eager hands drift to my hips, grip me with bruising force, and haul me forward until the bulge beneath his zipper rubs the length of my erection.

Fisting his shirt, I deepen the kiss as I moan into his mouth. I take and taste and grow impossibly harder. My body begging for more—his hands, his lips, his tongue on my skin. Desire thrums through my veins and fuels my already intense feelings for Oliver.

I surrender to the desires I’ve hidden for so long. Forget about obligations and Stone Bay and any preconceived notions I’ve had shoved down my throat all my life. I live in the moment and free my mind and heart.

Releasing his shirt, my hands drift down his chest. Lower and lower. Dipping beneath the worn cotton of his shirt, my fingers skim the waistband of his jeans and the soft skin just above it. He sucks in a sharp breath and tries to pull back. But I keep him pinned in place.

“Ollie…” His name is raspy, breathy, a plea. “Let me feel you.”

His hands on my hips fist impossibly harder before his grip loosens and drifts up my body. Forehead pressed to mine, he cups my cheeks and stares into my soul.

I see the fight in his eyes. The eagerness to say yes because he wants this as much as I do. The resistance because he fears what will happen once we take this step. Once we become more than friends.

“I’m scared, too,” I confess softly. “So damn afraid.”

Worry creases the corners of his eyes as they dart between mine.

“Afraid of what we may lose. Frightened we may never be the same.” I close my eyes, inhale deeply, then meet his gaze with renewed strength. “But I’m more terrified of not being with you. Petrified of not admitting what I want, taking my shot, and missing out on the greatest relationship of my life.”

Oliver’s expression softens as he melts into me. “Levi…”

“Let me feel you.”

When he doesn’t respond, when he doesn’t pull away or spew a rebuttal, I take it as a good sign. That he’s considering it.

His thumbs stroke my cheeks once, twice, and then his lips are on mine again. Softer this time. Tender yet starved. With each stroke of his tongue on mine, the air around us thickens. Intensifies. Amplifies.

I pop the button on his jeans and pause. He doesn’t retreat or break the kiss. No, he curls his fingers into my hair and deepens the kiss.

My heart pounds viciously in the confines of my rib cage as I drag his zipper down. My hands shake as I graze the waistband of his boxer briefs. He gently rocks his hips forward and moans into my mouth, encouraging me.

In this moment, time is measured in heartbeats. Nothing and no one exists except him and me and the feelings we’ve shared but have been too frightened to admit.

My fingers dip beneath his underwear and we both gasp. A loud thump echoes through the trees a moment before a boom, crack, fizzle ripples in the air. The night sky turns red as I gently fist his length.

Thick and hard and throbbing in my hand, I slowly stroke the length of him. His jaw slackens as my hand moves up and down, root to tip. I lick his bottom lip. Relish in the pleasure written in his expression. Swipe my thumb over the head of his cock and smear the precum.

Fireworks light the sky in various colors and highlight the undiluted lust in his eyes. I stroke him harder. Faster. Shove his pants and underwear lower.

And before I second-guess myself, I drop to my knees. Lick the length of his cock, then wrap my lips around the head and take him to the back of my throat.

“Oh, fuck.” He fists my hair and hisses.

While the sky ignites, I fuck Oliver with my mouth. Show him how much I want this. How much I want him.

“Shit.” His grip on my hair tightens. “L… Jesus, fuck.”

His dick swells in my mouth. I reach around and clutch his ass. Hold him in place as I suck faster and add a little teeth. His muscles lock up a breath before he comes down my throat. I dig my fingers in his ass and suck him off until he trembles beneath my hands.

Releasing him, I stare up at the man I’ve wanted as more than a friend for far too long. He pulls up his underwear and pants, adjusts himself, then drops to his knees so we’re eye to eye.

In his gaze, I see awe and wonder and something akin to love. He lifts a hand to my jaw and strokes the pad of his thumb over my lips.

“You’re a literal fantasy.”

A smile stretches my cheeks painfully. “Right back at ya.”

He drops his forehead to mine. “What now?”

One firework after another brightens the night sky through the trees.

“Not sure.” I drop a chaste kiss to his lips. “But as long as it involves you, nothing else matters.”