6. Six
Six
Luke
The new song’s coming together nicely, but something’s still not quite right. I run through the chord progression again, tweaking the timing while Cass works out vocal harmonies with Vince.
“Maybe if we—“ I start but stop when I notice Nate checking his phone again. “Hot date?”
He shakes his head, eyes still glued to the screen. “Market’s volatile today.”
“You mean more than usual?” Vince sets down his guitar. “What’s happening with that tech stock you were watching? ”
“Down six percent.” Nate’s fingers fly over his phone. “But the fundamentals are solid. They’re about to announce something big—I can feel it.”
I shift on my stool, curious despite myself. Nate’s always been the quiet one, more likely to be reading financial reports than partying after shows. But his investment track record speaks for itself.
“Is that the same company you mentioned last month?” I ask.
He looks up, surprised I remembered. “Yeah. They’re developing some revolutionary technology. The stock’s been beaten down because of missed deadlines, but...” He trails off, already back to studying his charts.
“Nate’s got that look,” Vince finishes, grinning. “The same look he had before Tesla split and Amazon exploded.”
“You really think it’s going to pop?” I try to keep my tone casual, but something in my voice must give me away because Nate actually puts down his phone.
“Finally interested in investing, Luke?” He gives me a calculating look. “Thought you were all about keeping it safe in mutual funds.”
I shrug, running my fingers absently over the keys. “It may be time to take some risks.”
“Says the guy who drove the same beat-up Honda for ten years before finally buying that Jeep,” Cass teases. “What changed?”
Everything—I want to say. But instead, I just shrug again. “Just curious about what Nate’s seeing.”
“Show him the numbers,” Vince urges. “I’m already in another two hundred grand.”
“Two hundred grand?” I nearly choke. “That’s...”
“Nothing compared to what it’ll be worth if I’m right,” Nate says quietly. He pulls up some charts on his phone and hands it to me. “Look at their patent portfolio. Their partnerships. The way they’re positioning themselves...”
I study the screens he shows me, trying to make sense of the graphs and projections. It’s like looking at sheet music in a foreign language—I can tell there’s a pattern, but I can’t quite read it.
“How much have you made following his advice?” I ask Vince.
He grins. “Enough to buy that beach house I’ve been eyeing. And before you ask—yes, cash. No mortgage. ”
“And you think the risk is worth taking?”
Nate hesitates, his analytical brain clearly weighing how much he wants to share. “It’s risky,” he says finally, “but the numbers make sense if you look at the trend.”
Vince crosses his arms. “If Nate says it’s risky. That means it’s practically a sure thing.”
Nate shrugs again, a little uncomfortable with the attention. “There’s always a chance it won’t pan out.”
“Yeah, but when’s the last time you were wrong?” Cass says, laughing. “Seriously, man. You’ve turned my bank account into something that would make the Rolling Stones jealous.”
“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Nate mutters, though his lips twitch into a faint smile.
“Wait, wait,” I say, holding up a hand. “You’re telling me that all of you guys have invested?”
“Hell yeah,” Vince says, leaning against the wall. “Nate’s like a stock market wizard or something. He’s got the touch. I just ride his coattails and watch the money roll in.”
Sam chuckles from the corner, plucking a few notes on his bass. “It’s true. The guy’s got a freaky talent for this stuff. I’ve made enough to put Presley through college already. ”
Nate looks faintly embarrassed, but he doesn’t deny it. “It’s not magic,” he says. “I just do my research.”
“And by research, he means spending every waking minute not playing music glued to a screen,” Vince jokes.
“Luke, everyone’s made money except you,” Cass adds. “Because you never take chances.”
“I take chances,” I protest. “I joined the band, didn’t I?”
“That’s different,” Nate says, taking his phone back. “That was following your passion. This is about being smart with the money you’ve already earned.” He pauses, studying me. “But again, it’s risky. I won’t lie about that. This could go either way.”
I think about my carefully managed portfolio, which most people would envy, and the conservative investments my financial advisor recommends. Safe. Stable. Predictable.
And I still don’t have enough capital to help my dad.
“How much would you recommend investing?” I hear myself ask.
Vince whistles low. “Look who’s finally ready to gamble.”
“I didn’t say I was doing it,” I say quickly. “Just asking.”
“Minimum five hundred grand to make it worth the risk,” Nate says matter-of-factly. “But don’t do it unless you’re sure.”
Five hundred grand. It’s a lot of money but not life-changing for someone with my income. Still...
“Let me think about it,” I say.
“Better think fast.” Nate picks up his drumsticks. “Word’s getting out. Won’t stay this low for long.”
We get back to working on the song, but my mind keeps drifting to those charts, those possibilities. It’s time to shake things up. Take some real risks.
An image of Lila flashes through my mind—the way she looked in my arms yesterday, water dripping from her lashes, her lips so close to mine...
“Earth to Luke,” Cass calls. “We losing you to the stock market already?”
I shake my head, forcing myself to focus. “Just thinking about the bridge. What if we tried it in a minor key?”
But even as we work through the new arrangement, part of my mind is still on risks worth taking and changes waiting to be made .
I’ve always been careful with my money. After watching my dad almost lose everything, I swore I’d never take a gamble I couldn’t afford to lose. The guys are right. The only major expense I’ve allowed myself this past year is my Jeep, and even that felt like an indulgence.
We spend the next hour fine-tuning the arrangement. We’re each focused and purposeful—the kind of vibe that means we’re on the verge of something great.
By the time we call it a day, the song feels solid—one of those rare tracks that come together so smoothly it feels like it was just waiting for us to find it.
As the others pack up their gear, I catch myself glancing at Nate again, the wheels in my head still turning. Maybe it’s time to take a leap of faith—not just in the market, but in the idea that sometimes, a calculated risk is worth the reward.
When I pull into the driveway, the sun is still bright in the sky. The hours with the band had been productive—one of those rare sessions where the music seemed to flow effortlessly. But instead of feeling accomplished, I can’t shake the restless energy that’s been clinging to me all morning .
Maybe it’s Nate’s stock talk, maybe it’s the song we’ve been working on, or maybe it’s something else–or someone—blonde and curvy who’s been occupying way too much space in my head lately.
I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and head out to the deck, hoping the ocean air will clear my mind. But when I step outside, the sight that greets me only makes things worse.
Lila is out on the beach, stretched out on a bright yellow towel in the sand.
My feet stop moving of their own accord.
She’s wearing a vintage-style swimsuit, the kind that’s supposed to be modest but somehow makes everything more enticing. The deep red fabric hugs every curve, highlighting the dip of her waist and the fullness of her hips. Her hair is loose, spilling across her towel in honey-colored waves. The way she looks in that swimsuit has my brain scrambling for coherent thought.
I freeze, trying to stop myself from doing something stupid, like walking down there just to be closer to her. She’s oblivious to my presence, her focus entirely on the small bottle of oil she’s holding .
I should go inside. I definitely shouldn’t stand here watching as she slowly unscrews the cap off the bottle.
But then she starts applying it, and I swallow hard as she pours a small amount into her palm, her movements slow and deliberate. She starts with her arms, smoothing the oil over her skin in long, graceful strokes. She moves with an unconscious sensuality that’s far more alluring than any deliberate attempt at seduction.
It’s hypnotic. Mesmerizing. And it is absolutely not something I should be watching.
I tell myself to look away, to go back inside and leave her to her peaceful moment. But my feet stay planted, my eyes locked on her as she moves to her legs, her fingers skimming over the curve of her calf, up to her thighs.
My chest tightens, and I take a long drink from the water bottle, hoping the cool liquid will temper the heat simmering under my skin. It doesn’t.
She shifts slightly, reaching again for her shoulder, and I see a hint of a smile on her lips like she’s enjoying the warmth of the sun on her skin. It’s such a simple, natural moment, but there’s something about it that feels intimate—like I’m witnessing a side of her she doesn’t let many people see .
And damn, if it doesn’t make me want to be closer and to know what’s going on in her head when she smiles like that, to hear the sound of her laugh without a group of people around, and to feel her skin under my hands the way her fingers glide over it now.
I drag a hand down my face, muttering a curse under my breath. This is getting out of hand.
When she arches her back to reach behind her, I have to grip the deck railing tighter to remain where I’m standing as I half-chub.
“Get it together, Sterling,” I mutter to myself. But I can’t tear my eyes away as she rolls onto her stomach, exposing the graceful line of her back, the gentle swell of her heart-shaped ass—
She’s made it clear she wants to keep things friendly—after she found out about Crystal. And I’ve been doing my best to honor that. But every time I’m around Lila it gets harder to ignore the pull. She’s different from anyone I’ve ever met—funny, smart, confident in a way that sneaks up on you.
And then there’s this. The way she looks right now, laid-back and radiant, the picture of effortless beauty. It’s enough to make any man lose his freakin’ mind .
Then Lila sits up, stretching like a cat in the sunlight, and all my good intentions go up in smoke.
As if sensing my thoughts, she glances over her shoulder, her warm hazel eyes scanning the deck. I duck back, cursing myself for being so obvious, but it’s too late. She’s seen me.
“Luke?” she calls, sitting up slightly. Her hair falls over one shoulder, loose and golden in the bright sunlight. “Is that you?”
I step into view, trying to play it cool. “Yeah. Just got back.”
She starts gathering her things as if she’s done sunbathing just because I’m here.
Taking the steps down to the beach. Sand shifts under my feet as I make my way to where Lila’s wrapping herself in a white cover-up.
“You don’t have to leave on my account,” I say, trying to keep my voice light.
“I should get inside anyway.” She’s not meeting my eyes. “I have some recipe testing to do for that corporate dinner on Friday.”
“Right.” I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her. “Need any taste testers? ”
She looks up then, and something in my expression makes her breath catch. “Luke...”
“Sorry.” I step back, giving her space. “That was... I shouldn’t...”
“It’s okay.” She clutches her towel tighter. “We’re friends, right? Friends can taste test.”
Right. But friends don’t watch friends apply suntan oil like it’s soft-core porn. Friends don’t imagine tracing those oil-slicked curves with their hands, their mouth...
“We should go in,” I say roughly.
She nods but doesn’t move. The wind off the ocean plays with her hair, carrying the scent of coconut oil and the soft fragrance of Lila to me. My hands clench in my pockets.
“Luke?” Her voice is soft, uncertain.
“Yeah?”
“Why...” She takes a deep breath. “Why are you with Crystal?”
The question hits me like a punch to the gut. Of all the things she could have asked, this is the one I can’t answer. Not truthfully .
“It’s complicated—and It’s not what you think. I mean, we’ve never even—“
I cut off my words at Lila’s raised brows. She looks like she doesn’t believe me, and who can blame her? A famous rockstar would—could have his pick of women. Instead, I made a deal with the devil, which comes with a high-society girlfriend I don’t want. Someone I’m not even attracted to because she is too superficial. Crystal acts possessive and makes it clear to everyone that she’s dating a famous rockstar, but I’m just a means to an end—a way for her to advance up the social ladder and get more attention. There are times I doubt if she even likes spending time with me.
Lila just stands there waiting for me to finish my sentence, but I don’t. Instead, I say again, hating myself a little. “It’s complicated,”
“Right.” She gives me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Of course it is.”
She turns to go, but I catch her arm before I can stop myself. Her skin is warm and smooth under my fingers, still slick with oil .
“Lila, I—“
Her phone chimes from inside her beach bag. The sound breaks whatever spell we’re under, and she pulls away.
“I really should get inside,” she says.
I watch her climb the steps to our deck, the red swimsuit visible through her white cover-up. Just before she goes inside, she turns back.
“For what it’s worth,” she says quietly, “complicated isn’t always better than simple.”
Then she’s gone, leaving me standing in the sand with the taste of regret in my mouth and the ghost of her skin under my fingers.
She’s right. Simple would be better. Simple would be walking away from Crystal, from the deal with her father, from all of it. Simple would be going after what—who—I really want.
But simple isn’t an option. Not if I want to protect my father and everything he’s worked for.
So, I’ll keep things complicated. Keep my distance. Keep pretending I don’t feel anything when I look at Lila.
But standing here, watching the space where she disappeared, I’m starting to wonder if any of it is worth the cost.