Chapter 17 #2
Tonight, though, is the first time I’ve seen him writing in his notebook in weeks. I was worried he’d given up on the idea altogether, so it gives me a tiny bit of hope to see him with his glasses on and his face bent over the frayed edges, knowing he hasn’t abandoned his old life completely.
I can’t help but wonder whether the musician in him ever really could stop. I somehow doubt it. It makes me think about the way he answered some of the interview questions today. So eloquently. So poetic.
“How did you know how to answer all her questions today?” I ask, pulling his focus from his notebook.
He changed out of his formal attire from dinner the moment we got back to our suite and is now lounging on the chaise in a pair of gray sweats and an old Manic tour tee. “What do you mean?” he asks.
I pull my knees up to my chest in the upholstered chair across from him and watch as his eyes dart to the bare skin of my thighs as my shorts ride up. “Coming up with what to say. It just seemed effortless for you.”
He gives a casual shrug. “That’s because, for the most part, it was.”
I snort out a laugh. “Are you saying lying comes naturally to you?”
“I wasn’t lying. Not about the important things.” I open my mouth to argue, but he beats me to it. “When she asked us how we met, did I lie?”
I think back to his answer. “No. You told her about that night at my parents’ house,” I reply, remembering how cute Lana thought it was, me finally meeting my teenage crush and him falling head over heels for his manager’s daughter.
“But you said you were captivated by me from the moment we met. That you couldn’t stop thinking about me. ”
His eyes stay steady on mine. “Yes, I did.”
My stomach flutters.
“And when she asked all those specific questions, like ‘What do you admire most about each other?’ or ‘Who’s funnier?’”
He sets his notebook down on the table between us, then those soft blue eyes meet mine again.
“Merc, we’ve spent nearly every moment together for a month.
Do you think I don’t know you by now? We may not be dating, but I’ve gotten to know you well enough to say for certain you’re far funnier than I am. ”
“It’s not that hard.” I shrug, making him bark out a laugh.
“See?”
A sly smirk tugs at my lips before my insecurities get the better of me. “You just seemed to have an answer for everything.”
“And you were afraid I was making it all up?”
“It’s not like it was your first interview,” I say. “I wouldn’t blame you if you just put on a smile and made a bunch of shit up.”
He sets his glasses aside, rises from his spot on the sofa, and walks over to crouch in front of me.
I draw my knees in and set my feet on the floor so I can see his face.
“There’s no need when I have plenty of wonderful, true things to say.
” My heart starts to gallop. “Besides, I could ask the same of you.”
“What?”
“You answered a lot of those questions. Did you lie?”
“No. Not really.”
He gazes up at me. “So when Lana asked what you liked to do in your free time and you said—”
I blush, remembering my answer. “I couldn’t tell her I liked to read smutty novels, could I?” I told her instead that I was consulting at my family’s music studio, which took up a lot of my free time…and was true.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s not proper!”
“Fuck proper,” he says with a wolfish grin. “I’m a rock star with a recent sex scandal. They can handle my girlfriend reading a little cliterature.”
My cheeks flame. “You did not just say that!”
“I did, and so should you. It’s very liberating.”
“Oh my god, no. You’re insane!”
His grin turns downright devilish. “If you can say it out loud, how do you expect to act out some of these scenes in real life?”
My eyes widen as I imagine just that. My current read, a rock star romance, ironically—or maybe not?
—had me reading a scene last night where the sexy rock star drives his girl to his secluded beach house for some much-needed alone time.
When they hit a bit of traffic, he decides he can’t wait any longer and slides his hand under her skirt.
The only person I want putting his hands on me in a moving vehicle is the one currently sleeping on the chaise sofa at night.
I clear my throat. “I don’t think I could ever have that kind of confidence.”
“It’s all about finding the right partner.”
I narrow my gaze on him, folding my arms across my chest. “But that obviously isn’t you.”
He rises, and I can see he’s already retreating, pulling back. “No.” I shake my head. “We’re talking about this, Asher. It’s been weeks since the lake, and you haven’t said a single word since I—”
“Since you offered your virginity to me?”
I wince. “You make it sound so scandalous. You realize that the definition of virginity is an outdated concept used to control and manipulate women.”
“And yet you’ve been holding onto yours for years. Why?” he demands, eyeing me like he’s already five steps ahead. He’s always so perceptive when it comes to me. “Why not just have sex with some random boy in high school like everyone else? Why wait all these years if it’s not a big deal?”
“Because I wanted it to be you!” My eyes go wide as the realization hits half a second after my words echo through the suite.
I wanted it to be him…
Staring at the floor, I think back to my high school days. To all those times I thought I was putting schoolwork before boys, but now I realize it wasn’t the books or the grades.
It was him.
“I used to have this poster of you in my room,” I say, offering a half smile at the memory.
“My siblings teased me relentlessly, mostly because it was so unlike me. I never hung posters on my walls, so having you right there next to the pink, frilly comforter my mom picked out was strange, to say the least.”
“Not the first time, I’d imagine.”
“No,” I agree. Nor the last. “But at the time, I was obsessed with Manic at Midnight and, admittedly, a bit with you. I had never had a crush on a celebrity before, and in true teenage fashion, I made it my mission to learn everything about you.
“When prom rolled around that spring, a few guys asked me to go, and I remember thinking, why waste my time when none of them held a candle to you?” I swallow, finally returning my gaze to him. “I guess that sentiment sort of stuck.”
“Mercury…”
“No.” I raise a hand. “I know what you’re going to say. It’s too complicated. It will only make things harder. My brother will never forgive you—”
“I’ll do it.”
My head snaps up. “What?”
“I’ll do it,” he repeats, his eyes burning with an intensity I’ve never seen. “I’ll be your first. But on one condition.”
My stomach flutters, and I swallow a bundle of nerves. “Okay?”
“We take it slow. We go at my pace. Because if I’m going to be your first, I want to be your first…everything.”
Oh, sweet mercy.