Roommates Box Set #4-6

18. Kylie

18

KYLIE

“But what else did you talk about?” Mason asked, sounding like a gossiping grade school student. It was Saturday, a day after my lunch with Alyssa, and we sat around the table, studying. Well, Jude stared at the mountains, but I figured since I did that so often, it was his turn.

“The usual,” I said. “Fashion. Celebrity scandals. Boys.”

Mason rolled his eyes. He had his shirt off again. For a while, I’d actually believed what Jude had said that first day about Mason being an exhibitionist, but Mason had laughed his ass off when I brought it up, telling me it was because he was always warm. “Come on, tell me. I sure forked out enough for your lunch. What’d you do, order the most expensive thing on the menu?”

“Yes,” I said, and he laughed, in spite of himself. With his money in my pocket, I’d taken Alyssa to a French bistro in downtown Denver. “We talked about the big group project she has to complete to graduate. You were right, she’s having some issues with the male group members. Turns out, men can be stubborn, overbearing, and bad listeners—who knew?”

Mason rolled his eyes. “Not all of us.”

I raised an eyebrow. “In your final semester, how many women were in your group projects?”

“One or two.”

“And how many of their ideas did you actually use?”

Mason stood up. “Anyone else want another margarita?”

“That’s what I thought.”

Mason went to the kitchenette, bringing back the pitcher of margaritas I’d made earlier. “Do you want some?”

“I’m good.”

Jude had been bringing home bottles of alcohol all week. Mason said it was because he now knew I was a bartender, but to me, it seemed more about guilt. I’d told Jude a million times that I was all right, but he still felt bad about what happened at the bar last week.

Mason split the last of the margarita between his and Parker’s glasses.

I thought of something else to tell him. “Alyssa aced her test in Ethics and Engineering.”

“That’s good.”

“Imagine someone related to you behaving ethically.”

He grinned. “It is kind of hard to believe.” Then, his expression grew more solemn. “Especially if you met my father.”

Right. His father. I didn’t know much, but from talking with both Mason and Alyssa, their father sounded like a cold man who’d all but guaranteed the two of them would be uncomfortable around each other. “What was Alyssa like when she was younger?”

Mason downed the rest of his drink. “I didn’t see her that often, maybe once or twice a year when I was home from boarding school. And then college. Mostly, I went to my grandfather’s when school wasn’t in session. My mom’s father, I mean.”

It was sad that in his effort to avoid his dad, he’d avoided his sister as well.

Mason’s gaze softened. “I remember one summer when she must’ve been nine or ten. She had friends over, and the other girls were all playing with dolls. But not Alyssa. She built a bridge so the dolls’ dream car could cross the creek out back. It was a pretty good representation of a tied-arch bridge.”

That made me smile, but I wished Mason had a better relationship with his sister. She’d already started looking for jobs. It might be their last few months of living in the same state. “You’ve got to spend some time with her before she graduates.”

Mason nodded, which seemed like a step in the right direction. “I just don’t know how to talk to her.”

“Talk to her like you talk to me. Only, you know, G-rated.”

Parker scoffed. “He doesn’t know how.”

“He’s a student. He can learn.”

Mason sighed, no longer in a joking mood. “There’s a lot of years of bad blood and resentment between us. But that’s not her fault.”

“That’s exactly why you need to spend more time with her,” I said, keeping the exasperation out of my voice.

“I’ll try.”

We fell silent as we went back to studying, but my mind returned to the assortment of booze Jude had purchased. There were a bunch of drinks I wanted to make for the guys. Who knew I missed bartending?

My phone buzzed and I checked the text. “Oh my God,” I said, breaking into a smile.

“What?” Mason asked, and Jude looked over from his spot by the window.

“My friend, Sierra, is coming to Denver.”

“Is that your Hollywood friend?” Mason asked.

“One of them.” It still blew my mind that I had two friends working in the movie industry. “Sierra’s the actress.”

“Is she pretty?” Mason wanted to know.

“Absolutely hideous,” I said, suppressing a grin.

Mason laughed, and Parker gave a small smile.

“It’ll be good for you to see your friend,” Jude said, standing up. “I’m going to go practice.”

He left the suite and Mason, Parker, and I looked at each other. “How long do you think he’ll be like that?” I directed my question mostly to Parker, who was the resident expert on melancholy behavior.

But Mason was the one who answered. “He’s extra upset today because he has to play at the bar tonight.”

“He feels like he betrayed you,” Parker added.

I snapped my book closed. Enough was enough. “The drunk asshole who grabbed me already ruined one night. It’s stupid to let him ruin another.”

“Tell that to Jude,” Mason said.

“I will.” I got to my feet.

“He uses the practice room one floor down,” Parker said. “It’s under where the weight room is on our floor.”

“Thanks.”

I stood outside the small practice room for a long time. The music flowing through the glass door was faint, but beautiful. It was something classical, but I didn’t think I’d heard it before. The music flowed and conveyed a haunting sense of longing.

But even more mesmerizing than the music itself was the way Jude moved. His fingers flew across the keyboard, but his whole body shifted with the music as well. His torso swayed from side to side with an easy fluidity. As I watched, his eyes closed and he bowed his head as his strong hands kept the piece going. It looked like it poured out of his soul and was channeled through the piano.

When he’d played drums at the bar, he’d been animated and excited with a sort of cocky energy. But today, he looked completely different. Like a world-weary traveler who’d seen it all. Who’d seen too much, perhaps.

The beautiful melody came to an end, and the last notes echoed around me. Jude slumped on the piano bench, as if he’d put everything he had into the music.

And maybe he had.

Tentatively, I knocked on the glass door with one knuckle. He looked up, an expression I couldn’t read crossing his face. Then he motioned me to come in.

The small room was barely big enough for the upright piano, Jude, and the bench, but I squeezed in. There was a wooden chair next to the piano, and I moved a folder of sheet music to sit down. “That was beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“And also sad.”

“It was supposed to be.” Jude’s eyes were on the piano, not me. I hated that he felt responsible for what happened to me last week.

“I heard you’re playing with your band tonight.”

A pained expression crossed his face. “I tried to get out of it, but there’s no one else who can play the drums. I?—”

“I’m glad you’re playing,” I said firmly. “You enjoy it. And you’re really good at it.”

“Even after what happened last week, you still think I should play there?”

“Of course. I don’t blame you—I blame Mason.”

Jude looked shocked. “What? Why?”

I blew out a breath. “Because he was right there with me. He’s a big, strong guy—coordinated and athletic. He shouldn’t have let it happen.”

Jude was clearly upset. “It wasn’t his fault, Kylie. He couldn’t have known what that jerk would do. Please don’t blame him. He would’ve never willingly let that happen to you.”

“Exactly,” I said, and Jude looked confused. “Think about what you just said, your exact words… only this time, apply them to yourself, not Mason.”

Jude’s alarm faded as he realized I didn’t really blame Mason. But he wasn’t willing to give himself the same benefit of the doubt he’d just given his friend. “I invited you there.”

“Yeah, you did. And I was glad you did. I wanted to go, and except for what happened at the end, I had fun. Would you still blame yourself if you’d invited me there and our car got rear-ended on the way over and I ended up with whiplash?”

“Yes,” Jude said, and I reached out to put my hand on his arm.

“Then that’d be dumb, too. The only one who's at fault is that drunk asshole who put his hands on me. It sucked, but it’s over, and I’ve moved on. I need you to move on, too, so I can have my friend back.”

He nodded, though I wasn’t sure he was convinced. “I guess I haven’t been much fun this week.”

I grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “The influx of booze has been fun.” Then I sighed. “But no, you haven’t been much fun—it was kind of like rooming with two Parkers this week. I don’t expect you to always be your usual good-natured self, but I hate seeing you beat yourself up over something that isn’t your fault.”

He released a deep breath. “I get that. But guilt’s not an easy thing to let go of.”

An evil smile formed on my lips. “Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. Our country’s crime and punishment system has a way of dealing with that. You do something wrong, you feel guilty. Then you’re punished and your slate is wiped clean.”

For the first time, Jude’s face showed interest. “I’m going to be punished?”

I nodded. “Yes. Right now, in fact.”

“How?”

I moved my hand back and forth, as if banging a gavel. “Your punishment is being subjected to me playing the only song I know.”

“Chopsticks?” he asked, sliding down the bench to make room for me.

“Even worse.” I settled next to him, hunting for the right key to start on. “ Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star .” I hit a key twice, searching for the next one. I was only off by one before I found it. As I continued to plunk out the tune—sort of—Jude leaned close to me to whisper in my ear.

“You’re right, this definitely counts as punishment.” But then he put his left hand on the lower keys and played some sort of accompaniment. It made Twinkle Twinkle sound a hell of a lot better. Of course, it also meant I had to play my part in rhythm, but I did my best to keep up.

Our last notes, slightly dissonant ones on my part, echoed through the room when we finished. Faintly, I heard someone playing the violin in another room over, and it made me grin. “The other musicians probably thought it was you playing that.”

He shook his head. “Trust me, they didn’t. But if they did, I guess it’s all part of my punishment.”

I put my hand on his jeans-covered thigh and squeezed. “I was serious about that. It’s over and done with. No more beating yourself up, okay?”

“Okay.” He placed his hand over mine. “Want to play something else?”

“That’s all I know.”

He smiled, and I was pleased to see that it actually reached his eyes. “Ah, but you forget, I’m a music teacher. I can help you.”

I was half intrigued and half terrified. “You’re going to give me a music lesson?”

“That’s too slow. Let’s fast-track you to the advanced class. Stand up.”

I did as he asked, and he turned the piano bench ninety degrees so it was perpendicular to the piano. There was barely room to do so, and the back of the bench touched the wall behind us. “Okay, sit back down.”

“Like this?” I perched on the short edge of the bench, my stomach quite close to the keys since there wasn’t a lot of room.

“Exactly.” He swung his leg over the piano bench and settled in behind me, his legs on either side of mine. Holy crap, I already liked the advanced class, especially when he reached around me to put his hands on the keyboard. It was like being hugged from behind.

“You’re in charge of these three notes.” His touch was light as he positioned my fingers over the right keys. “You’ll press all three at the same time when I tell you to.”

“Like a chord?”

“Exactly. You get an A+. Are you ready?”

Not for the music, but I was super into the way he was pressed against me, so I said, “Yes.”

He began playing, arms on either side of me. I still didn’t recognize the song, but this time, it was upbeat and lively. “Now,” Jude said in my ear.

I pressed my three keys, only a little late, and they sounded good. Grinning, I hit them again, but they didn’t sound as good this time.

“Wait for my signal,” Jude scolded. He continued playing and jaunty music filled the room. I got better at hitting my keys when he told me to. I didn’t know if it was conscious or not, but he squeezed his legs around mine when it was time for me to play my notes. I certainly wasn’t going to complain about that… not when it felt so damn good.

As we kept going, my admiration for Jude grew. He was so skillful, making it look easy. “How are you doing this?” I tilted my head back to ask. “Can you even see the keyboard with my head in the way?”

Warmth breath flowed over my neck when he chuckled. “First, you’re a short, little thing. Second, I don’t need to see to play.”

“Really?” I abandoned my keys, which I’d probably never locate again, to reach up and put my hand over his eyes.

“Ouch,” he said, the music coming to an abrupt halt. “No eye poking is allowed in the practice room.”

“Sorry. I just wanted to see if you could still play with your eyes covered.”

“A blindfold is less painful and more fun,” he said with a teasing tone in his voice. It was so nice that he was back to his normal self.

“I’ve got a better idea.” I smacked his thigh lightly. “Move your leg.”

There wasn’t much room, but he swung his leg to the side so I could wiggle out.

“Okay, now put your legs together.”

He gave me a mock-hurt look. “I’d never say something like that to you.”

I laughed. Once his knees were together, I climbed onto his lap, straddling him, holding onto his shoulders with our faces inches apart. “Now, play with your eyes closed and I’ll watch to make sure you don’t cheat.”

He grinned. “I can do that.” He peered around me to position his hands.

“You’re looking!”

“I have to get my hands in the right position to start. I’m sitting at least eight inches further back on the bench than usual.”

“Mm… eight inches. I like the sound of that.” I couldn’t help grinding my hips against his.

Jude grinned. “Be good.” He kissed the tip of my nose, closed his eyes, and started playing.

Damn, he was good. Even though his eyes were firmly shut, the music sounded just as good as before, even without my chord. Not being able to see the keyboard probably wasn’t even a challenge for him.

Hmm… maybe I should do something else to make it more difficult for him. I leaned forward and spoke in his ear. “Can you play while distracted?”

“Yes,” he said smugly.

I’d be the judge of that. I snaked my tongue out, flicking it across his earlobe. I felt his body flinch in surprise, but he didn’t miss a beat. So I tried again. This time, I captured his lobe between my teeth and tugged lightly.

“You’ll have to do better than that.”

I’d intended to. I flipped my hair over my shoulder to get it out of the way, angling my head to get at his neck. I planted several light kisses, nibbling along his smooth skin. He still didn’t make a mistake as far as I could tell, but the deep groan erupting from his chest sent shivers down my spine.

Inspired, I scooted closer to him, wrapping my knees around his hips and grinding myself against what was rapidly becoming a hard bulge.

“You don’t fight fair,” he said huskily. The music morphed into something slower and sultry. His eyes were still closed—how’d he done that?

I rolled my hips in time with the sexy music, and suddenly, one of Jude’s hands was on my back, pressing me to him. “Keep playing,” I ordered.

“You’re such a bossy little thing.”

He returned his hand to the keys adding harmony to the sexy melody. I peppered his face with kisses, making my way across his cheeks just above his beard. My hand plunged into his short hair and he groaned again.

“When do I get to touch you?” he asked.

“When the song’s over.”

I tilted my head, capturing his bottom lip between mine—and he hit the wrong note. I grinned in triumph. Slanting my mouth over his, I kissed him properly and was rewarded with his hips shifting under mine—and another wrong note.

“Sorry, am I distracting you?” I whispered, pulling my mouth away.

His eyes flashed open. “Just wait until the piece is over, and then I’ll show you what distraction looks like.”

Ooh, I liked the sound of that, but I still told him to close his eyes. He did, but he played faster. I ground up and down on him, rubbing myself against him as he raced to the end of the piece.

And then, it was almost there. I could tell the music was winding to a stop—and when it did, his arms immediately wrapped around me. His eyes were still closed and his hands were just as skillful as they caressed my skin as they were on the keyboard.

His mouth sought mine and it was a whole new ballgame now that he wasn’t focused on his music. Or maybe, it was more like we’d made a different kind of music together.

Jude’s kiss somehow reduced my muscles to jelly and I slumped against him, my hands in his hair and on his back as the kiss deepened. It felt incredible—and it felt right. Even though Mason’s kiss had, too.

In the past, I might have been horrified with myself for kissing two men. And for liking two men—well, actually, I liked three men. But that was before I got to know Ronnie, seeing how insanely happy she was with her guys. It’d opened my eyes to certain possibilities. I never thought it’d happen to me—and who knew, maybe I’d jumped the gun here—but it felt good. It felt incredible, actually.

My studies had to come first, but as Jude held and kissed the hell out of me, I vowed to keep an open mind about future possibilities with him and the others—and I hoped with all my heart they’d do the same.