13. Nikolai
13
NIKOLAI
J ane’s scent clings to me, even a week after the Fourth when she found me hiding away in the sound booth and sat with me through the night.
I was prepared for it to be a bad night. While fireworks used to bring joy and celebration, they send me back to the darkest part of my life now. And even though dogs and people alike hate them, there are still those lucky enough to not confuse them with gunshots and can enjoy them.
My solution was to get drunk, lock myself away in the booth, and blast rock music until I passed out.
And it was going well, until Jane came in.
I hated to let her see me like that, but it wasn’t the first time. Not even the second time.
I shake my head, not allowing myself to go there again.
The awkwardness that hung in the air between us those first few days she was here has dissipated since that night. It melted away with every shift of our bodies that brought us closer, made each other hold the other tighter, and the silent understanding that we didn’t need to speak in order to communicate.
She wanted to be there for me, and I wanted to soak in every ounce of comfort she was willing to give. Being that close to her again was like tasting a drug of choice after years of sobriety. Scary, exhilarating, and all-consuming.
I can’t get her out of my head, her scent out of my nose, and her touch off my skin.
It doesn’t help that she’s currently striding into the kitchen in a matching silky pink pajama set.
The material clings to her thighs and the swells of her breasts as they jostle gently. Her pink lips part in a yawn as she half-heartedly greets me and heads directly for the coffee machine.
She drinks her coffee black now.
Something I had to learn the first morning I made her breakfast and was so proud to present her with a cup of coffee just the way she liked it. Hazelnut creamer and 2% milk.
She drank it, but then politely informed me how she takes it now.
Something so simple has changed over the years, and I didn’t know it. Didn’t know all of the details about her like I used to.
She pours herself a cup and leans against the counter, holding the mug with both hands as she blinks bleary eyes at me.
Bacon and eggs sizzle in a hot skillet while I butter a few pieces of toast. “Looks like you could use another hour of sleep.”
“Try three.” She snorts. “Is that for me?” She points to the plate I pile food on and slide across the counter.
“We don’t have any other roommates, do we?”
“Is that what we are? Roommates?”
I scoop the eggs and bacon on my own plate before turning around and setting it on the opposite side of the island from her. “For now.”
She arches a brow and I smile at her. I’ve never been much of a morning person, but since having Jane here and learning her schedule, I’ve been making an effort to get up earlier so we have more time together. She’s an early riser and has been out of the door as the sun is coming up. I know she’s doing it to try to make a good impression with Arun.
She doesn’t need it. He already told me how well she’s been connecting with his clients and the trust a lot of them already feel in her.
“Thanks for cooking,” she says as she surveys the plate. “Again.”
“No problem,” I say, grabbing a strip of bacon and devouring it in two bites. “Sleep good?”
She moans around a bite of toast and I grit my teeth at the sound. “So good. I’m going to take that mattress with me when I’m out of here.”
“Never,” I say, hoping she catches the double meaning. “Do you have any meetings today?”
“Nope. I think Arun’s too tied up with your show tonight to want anything else filling up the team’s calendar.”
The back of my neck grows hot thinking about it.
“Are you excited?” Jane asks cautiously, sensing my shift in mood.
I take a sip of coffee to buy myself a moment. Of course I’m excited to be back onstage for the first time in months. It’s where I’ve always felt safe, confident, at home.
But it’s also the first show I’m doing without my best friends by my side. Who am I onstage without their presence boosting my own?
“I am,” I finally say. “Nervous though, too. It’s been a while. I might be a little rusty.”
She waves me off. “You’ll be amazing. Performing has never been an issue for you.”
“But that was when I was with the guys. With Kerra? I don’t know.”
The show is an intimate pop-up show for the two of us to perform our new single before it officially releases next week. There’s a party before and after the performance as well.
Jane’s tone noticeably cools at the mention of Kerra. “Sure the music performance is the only one you’re nervous about?”
“Jane—”
She stands, the barstool scraping loudly against the floor. “Sorry, it’s not my place. You did what you needed to do for your career.”
“It’s not permanent. It’s just while this single is launched and a few months after to keep the buzz going.” I still don’t know if telling Arun to agree to the PR relationship with Kerra was the right move. I went back and forth, using every single minute of my deadline to think it over, but ultimately, I agreed.
I can’t let this new solo career fail before it’s even started. The fear of people not caring about me as an individual artist outside of the success of Whisper Me Nothings has grown more consuming as time goes on.
If I don’t have music, I don’t know how to breathe.
So if putting on a performance with Kerra on and offstage is what I need to do to ensure the boost I need at the start here, it’s what I need to do.
Jane rinses her plate and loads it into the dishwasher. “I have a few errands I need to run, so I’ll be out of your hair for a bit.”
“Do you want to ride with me to the show tonight?”
She shifts on her feet, her pink slippers a bright pop of color against the light, cool-toned floors. “That’s alright. I don’t want to hold you up. I’ll meet you there.”
I open my mouth to protest, to try to convince her otherwise, but I shut it and nod. I’m just happy she’s coming at all.
Arun advised against inviting Reid, Walker, or Hayden to show as they would be a distraction and going against the new solo image we’re trying to create for myself. But I needed someone there to support me. Someone to lean on. Someone to look out into the crowd and find that sense of peace in the chaos.
Jane starts to walk out of the kitchen and upstairs, but I call out to her, “Thank you.”
She looks over her shoulder at me, green eyes sparkling from all the way across the room. She’s always beautiful, but she’s an absolute dream in the mornings when she’s barefaced and at ease.
“For what?”
I lean my hip against the counter, crossing my arms over my bare chest. “For coming tonight. I’m grateful for your support.”
“You don’t have to thank me. I’m excited to see you onstage again. It’s where you belong.” Her eyes scan my chest. I flex my pecs, and she quickly meets my gaze, rolling her eyes at my smirk. “Always been a show off.”
“You love it.”
She purses her lips before she turns and walks upstairs, leaving the unspoken words behind that I know sat on the tip of her tongue.
I do .