Reverse (Bittersweet Symphony Duet #2)

FORTY-FOUR “Wild Horses”

FORTY-FOUR

“Wild Horses”

The Sundays

Natalie

F eeling glum on the drive home, I do my best to bury my growing insecurity away. Did he turn off his phone to avoid a fight? I reconsider that train of thought because that’s not Easton.

I teased him about being whipped, but he must know it was said in jest, and I’m equally as enamored. He said I wouldn’t win in that standoff, but would he purposely not reply to prove that point?

“Stop it,” I scold myself as my seatbelt alarm dings, a ding I now associate with my boyfriend’s constant harping. Buckling up, I slow at a stoplight behind a row of cars and glance out of my window, pausing when I see Emo’s, an Austin venue the Dead Sergeants often played when they started out. This detail I remember well because, in the movie, it’s where Stella caught Reid singing in memory of her. I conjure the scene clearly—the actress who played Stella crying hysterically at the foot of the stage as Ben pointed out she was there. Reid had leaped from behind his drums and collided with her. For me, it’s the most memorable scene of the film. A substantial part of Reid and Stella’s history lines these streets, especially Sixth, the one I’m currently on. Briefly, I imagine a younger Stella roaming downtown Austin, daydreaming of making a name for herself in journalism while tirelessly working toward her future. An image of Reid behind his drums, fighting similarly for his own dream, skitters in as a horn blares behind me.

Jarred back into the present, I press the gas, my eyes lingering briefly on the well-known club.

Thoughts drifting back to Easton, stomach continually churning, Lexi and her past with Ben pushes into the forefront of my mind. This same type of insecurity caused Lexi to sabotage her relationship with Ben. Something else Easton warned me about. It’s then a decision quickly forms.

I can’t behave in the same way. I won’t. If I’m going to be the girlfriend of a rock star, I will have to suck it up.

I’m not the only one going through the mounting pressure of lying to everyone while keeping this relationship under wraps. I’m not the only one battling the pressure of my job. Easton’s enduring the same battles, if not more, due to the rapidly increasing spotlight. Maybe balancing our relationship while touring is becoming too much for him, and we need to talk this out.

At the same time, Easton’s a private man. Even if we weren’t hiding from our parents and went public, he would still be concealing our details—ferociously.

Facts.

I reason with myself that I’m feeling especially vulnerable because I spilled some of my heart into a text.

Unlocking my apartment door, I stand on the other side, letting my purse drop from my shoulder to the floor while I glance around the empty space. Deciding to grow the hell up, I shoot out another text for my sanity’s sake.

Have a good show tonight. X

I hit send and am surprised when I see reply bubbles instantly start dancing.

EC: It will be.

Unsure what to make of his cryptic reply, I text back as though I haven’t run through a gauntlet of conflicting emotions the entire day.

Feeling a bit cocky, are we?

EC: Maybe . . . Knock. Knock.

Who’s there?

EC: Joel.

A knock sounds on the other side of my apartment door, and I scream in surprise. Joel’s laughter echoes just outside before he speaks up. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this, Natalie.”

Opening the door, I can’t help my smile before I leap into his arms, relief coursing through me. “That’s Easton’s freaky timing, or yours,” I scold. “You two have these surprise attacks coordinated down to a science.”

“Come on,” he says as I pull away and beam up at him. “You have to get packed.”

“Packed?” I ask, my spirits lifting insurmountably as my phone rumbles in my hand.

EC: Do as you’re told, Beauty.

“Case in point,” I say, lifting the message for Joel to read. “It’s witchcraft.”

Joel chuckles, “We’re a well-oiled machine, don’t even try to figure us out.”

I narrow my eyes. “Do I want to know exactly how many women you two have practiced this act on?”

“You’re the first. How are we faring?”

“Meh.” I shrug.

“No more time for chit-chat, the plane is waiting, and we’re going to have to fight traffic to get to it.”

“It’s kind of presumptuous of him to assume he can summon me on a whim.” Even I can hear the bullshit in my statement. “What if I had plans?”

“Then I would have had to kidnap you because I was ordered to, in no certain terms, ‘collect his soulless ginger and get her side stage.’”

“Reid isn’t there?” I ask, excitement clear in my voice.

“Nope, he left this afternoon.” Joel claps his hands together. “No more time to explain. Easton wants you at the concert. We can get there in time for the second half if we hurry.”

“Hell yes! Twenty minutes?” I ask.

“Better shoot for ten.” He jabs a thumb toward the elevator. “I’ll wait downsta—”

“The hell you will! Get in here.” I yank him inside my studio, and he chuckles as I race to the fridge and pluck a Coke and a beer from the shelf before holding each up to him. “Thirsty?”

“I’ll take the Coke, sweetheart. I’m driving, and your boyfriend will have my balls if I take a sip of alcohol before I do.”

“He’s overprotective,” I say, another surge of relief coursing through me.

“Of you, yeah, he most definitely fucking is.” I hand Joel the Coke and lift a brow.

“Are you being cryptic right now?”

“Little bit,” he glances around. “Cute place,” he muses silently at the size of it before he pops the top of his Coke.

“Thanks,” I grab the remote from my ottoman and thrust it toward him. “Make yourself at home. I have every sports channel imaginable. I’m going to,” I jerk my head toward my bedroom.

“I’m good, go ,” he waves me away as I race to pack.