Hard Rock Temptation (Until We Break #3)

Chapter 1

ONE

KAYLEE

Itwirled my drumsticks between my fingers, clockwise and then counterclockwise, back and forth in a repetitive rhythm. Anyone watching would have thought I was showing off, considering the grin on my face.

And I was showing off, a little. As a young woman in the rock music industry you had to show off, had to be loud, had to make some noise, if you wanted to be noticed and taken seriously.

“What’s got you so wound up?”

Finn, the bassist in our band, came up from behind and threw an arm around me, leaning heavily and throwing me off balance. The drumsticks fell to the floor with a clatter.

“Look what you made me do, you jerk,” I huffed with a laugh, punching him in the shoulder.

Finn bent down and scooped up the sticks. I went to snatch them back but stopped when I saw the look on his face.

Honest concern. For me.

“What’s up, Kaylee?” Finn asked. “You’re fidgeting more than normal.”

“Nothing’s up,” I said with a bright smile. “I’m just excited to get back to performing. It’s been a while.”

“Two months is not a while,” he said, amused.

It was longer than I would have liked. I loved performing. It didn’t matter whether it was in a stadium with thousands of rioting fans, or a small performance on late night shows, like today. I loved getting behind my drums and rocking out.

But that wasn’t the only reason I was so wound up. The buzz of an impending performance was enough to make me fidget, yes, but there was another reason this time.

I was planning on having a conversation that was months overdue.

I didn’t want Finn to know, though, so I simply held my hand out and made gimme motions with my fingers. He handed me back my sticks.

“Do you know where the others are?” I asked, going back to twirling.

“Zain’s talking to the guitar tech,” he said. “Chris and Anya are already in the green room.”

I waited. He didn’t continue.

“And Micah?” I asked, aiming for a nonchalant tone, as if the answer didn’t matter to me in the slightest.

“Not here yet,” he shrugged. “I haven’t heard from him.”

Neither had I.

Keeping in touch had been so much easier when we’d all lived together, a handful of starving artists crammed into a two-bedroom apartment. Even after we had our big break and bought a mansion for us all to live in, it still essentially felt like the same thing, except with more space.

Then Micah had moved out. Zain and his girlfriend Grace got a place together. Finn was finally serious about someone and he spent so much time at Corinna’s place that he might as well have lived there.

It had been so much more fun when we’d been in each other’s back pockets. Daily jam sessions, pulling all-nighters writing songs, impromptu karaoke parties. Working together as a band had been so much easier back then.

And living together as a family had been priceless. Definitely better than living with the family I’d been born into.

I tried not to let out a dejected sigh. Micah wouldn’t have been able to avoid me for as long as he had if we still lived together.

Finn lifted his head from texting and eyed me. Ugh, was I that obvious?

“So, did you prepare for the interview?” I asked him in a sing-song voice, deflecting, since I knew the answer already.

“Nah,” he said with an easy shrug, confirming my assumption. “It’s just going to be the same old bullshit questions that have been approved ahead of time. They wouldn’t dare ask anything that could lead to bad PR or the label would eat them alive.”

“It’s not the questions I’m worried about,” I said. “You’ve never been able to get through an interview without saying or doing something shocking or scandalous.”

“Haven’t you heard?” Finn spread his hands wide with a look of mock sincerity on his face. “I’m a reformed man.”

I snorted a laugh.

“All right then, reformed man, are you planning on making a scene at this interview or not?” I asked.

“As if you care, troublemaker.” Finn gave me a shit-eating grin. That was all I needed to know. Some things never changed.

I began to bounce on my tiptoes, anticipation getting the better of me again. I’d kept an eye on the entrances but the only people who had come through were television staff preparing for the show. I checked my phone again. No texts. Not that I’d expected any.

“Did you want to talk to Micah before the show?” Finn asked. “Is something up?”

“No, it’s fine,” I replied quickly with a vigorous shake of the head. “We’re fine.”

Finn raised an eyebrow at me.

“Everything is fine,” I emphasized.

“Okay. If you say so.” He spoke carefully, as if trying not to upset a skittish cat. I didn’t much like the comparison but couldn’t deny it was apt.

“I’m going to go check on Anya!” I said, making sure to sound like my usual upbeat self. “See if she needs help with her breathing exercises.”

I turned to go, then paused, fiddling with my drumsticks.

“If I run into Micah I’ll send him your way,” Finn promised.

There was a knowing glint in his eyes. I hated it.

I scurried off to the green room, twirling my drumsticks again, but I didn’t get far before I heard a voice call out my name.

“Kaylee.”

It was a deep voice, with an undertone of calm and confidence. It was a voice that resonated in my very bones.

I gripped my drumsticks tight in my fist. My heart sped up. I resisted the urge to whirl around.

“Micah,” I said, greeting him as I turned slowly.

Despite myself, I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my lips when I saw his tousled hair, dark waves falling over his forehead.

“Lost your hairbrush again?” I teased.

“Hair and makeup said they’re going for a windswept look.” He took off his black rimmed glasses and ran his fingers through his hair self-consciously, ruining all their work. “Your hair is perfect as always,” he noted with a small smile of his own.

I tried not to preen. My hair used to be a frizzy mess growing up, until I’d learned to use hair product. Now I took pride in my natural red curls.

“Hair and makeup already got to me, too,” I said.

I ran my eyes over the long-sleeved black Henley he was wearing, hiding his toned arms covered with a multitude of tattoos. I wanted to comment on it, to tease.

Won’t all your fans be disappointed they can’t ogle you?

The truth was closer to the surface than I would have liked.

I’m the one who’s disappointed.

I didn’t say anything. It would have drawn attention to a topic that I needed to tread through carefully. A topic that would have popped our easy camaraderie, something I desperately cherished.

But it was exactly that kind of effortless friendship, the best kind, built brick-by-brick over years and nurtured over shared hardships and triumphs, that kind of close friendship was one I also desperately wanted to ruin.

Ruin in all the best ways possible.

Except it seemed like Micah was trying to ruin everything before I could, in the worst way possible.

That was why I’d wanted to run into him. I had some theories to test.

“Where are the others?” Micah asked, looking around.

“They’re here somewhere,” I said. “It’s just you and me right now, though.”

“Oh.” Was that a flicker of panic I’d caught in his eyes? “We should go find them.”

“Actually, I’m glad I ran into you before we go on stage,” I said cheerily, not wanting to show my hand.

“About what?” He tensed, then seemed to force himself to relax, shoulders easing down from where they’d tried to hunch up to his ears.

“The show? I thought we already went over the set list. Did one of the others change their mind at the last minute? Finn’s always doing that. I’ll have to go talk to him.”

Micah took a step to the side, eager to make an escape after his uncharacteristic rambling.

“It’s not the set list.” I stepped in front of him to halt him in his tracks. “I just wanted to see the next time you want to hang out. I’ve got a lot of songs I’m itching to work on. It’s been so long since we’ve written anything together,” I added playfully.

He almost cringed back, eyes widened slightly.

“Right, sorry, I’ve been busy,” he said. “All that production work. You know how it is.”

“Let’s do it this weekend.” I made sure to phrase it as a direct request. “Come over and we can jam or whatever.”

“I don’t—I don’t think I’ll have the time to make it over,” he stammered.

Theory number one, proven correct. Time to test theory number two.

“Then why don’t I go to your place?” I asked. “Save you the trouble of driving over.”

Now his eyes did go wide, that panicked look in full force now.

“No, no, that’s all right, you don’t need to come over,” he hurried to say.

That was theory number two, proven correct.

“Do you know,” I started casually, “I’ve never even seen your new place? Funny, huh?”

He shifted his gaze to the side, avoiding mine. “Guess we’ve all been pretty busy.”

Not that busy.

“Is there some reason you don’t want me over?” I asked, getting right to the heart of the matter.

“What? No. It’s just, you know.” He waved his hand in the air dismissively, obviously looking to evade the topic. “The place is messy, I haven’t had time to clean it.”

“Micah,” I stated, turning serious. “We lived together for years. I’ve seen you at your absolute worst. Dirty socks and empty takeout containers are not going to faze me.”

“It’s not that.” His eyes darted back and forth, looking desperately for an out, to leave the conversation.

My heart clenched painfully inside my chest.

When all this first started, I’d thought nothing of it. An excuse here, a scheduling conflict there. But soon I had noticed a pattern to it. I started keeping count of every instance in the last six months that Micah had brushed me off, turned me down or outright ignored me.

Sorry, Kay, can’t today.

I’m pretty busy right now, Kay.

I don’t know, Kay, it’s really not a good time.

“Tell me the truth.” Time to go in for the kill. I took a steadying breath, not wanting my voice to shake. “Are you avoiding me?”

Micah visibly swallowed then let out a weak chuckle.

“Why would you think that?” he said. “You’re my best friend.”

“Right. Best friends.” My breath hitched, but I forced my voice to stay strong. “If we’re best friends, then why haven’t we had a conversation alone together in two months? The longest we’ve talked in the last few months was about this performance we’re putting on tonight.”

“That’s not true,” Micah said in disbelief. “We talk about everything. Literally everything, Kay. I tell you more than I tell almost anyone else. I think you know me better than I know myself, sometimes.”

“Exactly,” I nodded, walking toward him. “I know you. I know when you’re upset, even when you hide it.”

I approached him slowly. His eyes tracked my every step.

“I know when you’re overjoyed, even when you try to play it cool.”

I stopped only when I was right in front of him. He lowered his chin to look down at me, his gaze mesmerized and still locked on my movements.

“I know when you’re worried, excited, or angry.” I tipped my head back so we were face to face. “And…” I continued.

Micah’s eyes stared into mine, wide with blown out pupils. His breathing turned shallow. We would have been nose to nose, if I wasn’t so damnably short.

“And I know when you’re afraid,” I finished.

Those wide eyes shuttered, face going blank. His gaze slid to the side.

“If you’re talking about the interview tonight, I got over my nerves a long time ago,” he said, his voice rougher than it should have been.

I refused to let him deflect. I stood on my tiptoes, trying to meet his eyes without straining my neck. “You know that’s not what I mean.” My mouth inched closer and closer to his with every inch of height I gained.

His eyes flickered to my lips, his chest expanding with a sharp inhale. A hungry, simmering spark was now in that dark gaze.

I held my breath.

“Kay, I… You—” He started to say something, then stopped to press his lips together, seeming to change his mind.

“What is it?” I asked, my voice a bare whisper. “Come on. Use your words. Tell me what’s going on inside that head of yours.”

He turned his face to the side, breaking our gaze.

“I’m not avoiding you.” A pained look overtook the simmering heat. ”You’re reading too much into it.”

I stayed exactly where I was, mere inches between us.

“Am I?” I asked. Then I waited.

The pained look didn’t fade. Micah also didn’t answer. His expression flashed with a dozen emotions. It was like watching the gears in his mind go round and round, thinking and overthinking.

Still, he didn’t say a word.

“Fifteen minutes to go time!” a staff member said as she rushed by.

I lowered myself down from my tiptoes, heels hitting the floor.

I could have called him out on it. I could have continued to push. But we were going on stage in minutes.

I nodded sharply.

“Fine. If you say I’m reading too much into it, then I guess that’s it.”

I pushed my way past him, avoiding the shoulder-check I knew would be immature.

“But you should know, you’re a shit liar,” I threw over my shoulder before turning my back on him.

I couldn’t stand to look at his face anymore.