Chapter 42
Chapter Forty-Two
ROMAN
When we finally return to solid ground, Clover looks like she’s about to either puke, cry, or possibly do both at the same time. I’m not convinced that she won’t kiss the grass as soon as she’s out of the basket.
Looking down at my forearms, I suppress a laugh when I see angry little crescents dotting them. Evidence of Clover clinging to me for dear life.
“Thanks, Armando,” I say, pressing a couple of hundred-dollar bills into his hand. A hot-air balloon tour wouldn’t normally be my thing, but it was fun to have an excuse to hold Clover like that for an hour.
“That was...” I start.
“Fucked,” she mutters.
I chuckle before pulling out my phone and snapping a picture of her doubled over with her hands on her knees. I’m not sure what prompts me to do it, but there’s something about this that I want to remember. Capture and be able to look back on later.
Before I have time to put the phone back into my pocket and ignore the world outside of Napa Valley, a text from James rolls in.
James
You’re right, this is definitely the look of someone who despises the woman he’s sitting across from.
There’s a link to a Celebrity Scene article. Reluctantly, I open it up as Clover continues counting her lucky stars that she’s back on the ground.
Spotted: Roman Everett and his leading lady Clover Daly cozy up over dinner at the Los Castillo Hotel instead of wanting to reach for a cigarette, all I can think about is how much I want to touch Clover again.
Grabbing two beers, I head back toward where Clover is waiting in the crowd, staring toward the stage. The opening act is playing, and if I thought the place was packed already, I clearly underestimated how many people can fit in the building, and how little personal space people are okay with.
The moody blue and red lighting only serves to highlight the beautiful color of Clover’s hair as she looks around and takes everything in. She gives me an appreciative little smile when I hand her the beer.
“To being back on solid ground,” I shout.
“I can cheers to that.”
The music winds down from the opening act, and everyone breaks into a rowdy cheer.
“Alright folks, give it up for Dust Bunny! We’re going to take a quick break to let Randomizer set up, and we’ll get going again in a few minutes,” the announcer yells into the mic.
Instead of there being any reprieve from the noise, loud music streams from the speakers instead, filling in any potential pockets of quiet. I fucking love it.
“How’d you even hear about this place?” Clover shouts to me.
“I heard about it from some friends who are musicians.”
She gives me a skeptical look. “Are you in a band?”
I nearly choke on my drink. “Clover, with what time would I be in a band? I’d be the shittiest bandmate with how much other stuff I have going on.”
She sips her beer contemplatively. “Were you ever in a band?”
I take a drink and shake my head.
“I love live music, but no, I’ve never done anything like this.”
Studying me for a minute like I’m a puzzle that’s missing a piece, she scrunches up her nose and faces back toward the stage.
“Would you ever? Want to perform, I mean.”
Yes.
I hesitate before answering out loud. It’s not that I don’t want to perform.
It’s that I don’t know where exactly I’d want to go with music, or even where to start pursuing it.
Aside from my family, I’ve kept my musical abilities private.
Besides, all I’m known for is being an Everett.
Even if I did ever pursue something, I don’t want to get a place on a stage because of my name. I need to earn it through my talent.
It feels disingenuous to say ‘no’, but I’m not ready to fully open up to her about that. Not when she still dislikes me.
“Why do you ask?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know.”
Before either of us can press more, the announcer returns and the volume kicks up impossibly higher, and the main headlining band tonight is welcomed to the stage.
“Come on, let’s get closer.” I head toward the center of the crowd grabbing Clover’s hand, and pulling her behind me.
Since we’re in public, I’ve got the green light to show physical affection, and I take the opportunity to guide her in front of me and wrap my arms around her waist. I lean in and place a kiss on her neck, taking in her jasmine and peach scent.
She smells fucking edible. Clover gives a slight shiver when my lips brush across her neck, and place a kiss behind her ear.
“People are watching,” I whisper. She doesn’t need to know that no one’s looking our way right now. She doesn’t need to know that this moment might actually be just for me.