Chapter 4
FOUR
Ty
? Creep - Radiohead ?
My body is still humming with leftover energy from the concert, the last vestiges of adrenaline still clinging to me. It’s almost one in the morning, and I should be tired, but I’m not. Not when I just attended the best show I’ve ever been to. Not when Eric Ambrose is sitting across from me.
I shouldn’t be here with him. I shouldn’t be anywhere near him. Someone who exists in a world far removed from mine. He’s a rock god, and I’m a fan. A face in the crowd. One of thousands.
And yet, here we are.
I’m sitting across from him in a diner a few blocks from Madison Square Garden, where I’m sipping on the largest milkshake I’ve ever seen in my life because I’m too fucking nervous to eat real food.
Eric, on the other hand, is completely unbothered, shoveling scrambled eggs into his mouth like he hasn’t eaten in months. Watching it makes him seem so…normal. So human. Like he isn’t the same mysterious, untouchable, and electric man who was just on stage a few hours ago.
The conversation flows easier than I expect, the tension in my shoulders slowly unwinding as the minutes pass.
I try not to get caught up in the way he laughs, the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he teases me.
I’ve been trying to play it cool, and had so far been successful, until my clumsy ass manages to knock over the glass of water the waitress brought with my shake, the ice-cold liquid splashing down my front.
I gasp, jerking back, but it’s too late.
My shirt and jacket cling to my skin, wet and freezing.
I shimmy out of my jacket and set it on the bench beside me.
Eric, of course, looks way too entertained. “Damn, Ty. That’s twice in one day.”
I blink at him. “Twice?”
His grin is nothing short of wicked. “That I’ve had the pleasure of getting you out of your clothes.”
My jaw drops, heat rushing to my face before I see the mischief in his eyes. He’s messing with me, and for the first time tonight, I actually laugh. A real, genuine laugh. It bubbles up before I can stop it, and when I look at him again, something shifts between us.
“That was the worst attempt at flirting I’ve ever heard,” I say, wiping at my shirt with a few napkins.
He places a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Excuse you, that was comedy gold.”
I shake my head, biting back a laugh. “Gold? Please. That was bronze at best.”
He leans in, a playful glint in his eyes. “Fine. Give me a better line.”
I arch a brow. “Oh, so now I have to flirt with you?”
He smirks. “You’re already undressing in front of me, might as well commit.”
I toss the pile of sopping napkins at his head, laughing as he dodges them. “Unbelievable.”
His hand brushes against mine on the table as he reaches for his coffee. It’s a ghost of a touch, but enough to make my heart leap in my chest.
“This is what I’ve been waiting for all day,” he says quietly. “Seeing you like this.”
Like what? Relaxed? Happy? I don’t ask, because I don’t want the answer. It doesn’t matter. None of this matters. Not really.
Because I already know how this ends.
He’s going to say and do all the right things, and then we’ll go back to his hotel room, he’ll get what he wants, and in the morning, I’ll be just another girl who spent the night.
Even if it almost feels like this could be something more.
By the time we finish eating, the rain has stopped, leaving the streets damp and shimmering under the glow of the streetlights. Eric tosses some bills onto the table before I can even think about reaching for my wallet, and then we step outside into the cool night air.
“We can grab a cab,” he says, glancing at me. “Unless you feel like walking?”
I hesitate. Walking means more time with him, but it also means more time for me to do what I do best—second guess everything and overthink.
“Walking’s fine,” I say, shivering involuntarily as I stuff my hands into the pockets of my soaked jacket.
Eric, for the second time today, slides his jacket off and drapes it over my shoulders.
I reach for the edges and pull it closed around me, closing my eyes against the warmth and his now familiar scent.
“Won’t you be cold now?” I ask, looking up at him. He reaches out, gently brushing his thumb over my cheek and tucking my hair behind my ear before sliding his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.
“I’ll be fine.”
He turns and starts walking, his pace easy and unhurried. The city is quiet, the chaos of the day settling into something softer. I let myself steal a glance at him, at the way he looks so at ease despite the weight of his world. He could be anywhere, with anyone. But he’s here, with me.
“Do you do this a lot?” I ask, my voice more casual than I feel.
“Eat breakfast at midnight?”
“Bring girls to diners. Take romantic late-night walks.”
He tilts his head, considering me. “Only when they’re interesting.”
I huff out a laugh, shaking my head. “Right.”
“You don’t believe me?”
I glance ahead, pretending to be fascinated by the passing cars. “I just know how this works.”
He stops walking, and when I turn, he’s watching me with an unreadable expression. “How does this work, Ty?”
My stomach twists and I shrug, playing it off. “You take me back to your hotel, say all the right things, and tomorrow I go back to my life, and you go back to yours.”
His jaw tightens, but then he exhales, a slow smile creeping onto his lips. “You think I’m that predictable?”
I arch a brow. “Aren’t you?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he steps closer, just enough that I can feel his warmth in the cool night air. “Guess we’ll have to find out.”
My breath catches, my heart pounds, and as we close the distance to the hotel, I can’t stop the war waging in my mind between the part of me that knows exactly how this ends, and the part of me that, for the first time all night, isn’t entirely sure.