Chapter 5 #2
Dante and I got in line at the coffee shop.
It was decently packed, thanks to the morning rush, and as people glanced our way, soft gasps rang out amid the overhead lofi music.
I wasn’t sure if the numerous reactions were because people recognized Dante from Sinners Do It Better, or if it was merely because Dante was on another level of attractiveness.
Well over six feet, the tall man towered above everyone here.
The hardened and defined muscles of his broad shoulders, arms, and chest threatened the material of his hoodie, even as he stood casually with his arms by his sides.
Big, brown eyes were set in a sculpted dark face with neatly trimmed black hair and a short beard.
A silver bar pierced the top of his ear, and a ring pierced his nose.
He was a walking, talking sex magnet, and everyone here knew it.
“He was definitely something,” Dante murmured under his breath, drawing me out of my thoughts before I could begin drooling.
His gaze went distant for a moment, but when he blinked and looked down at me, his casual charm was back.
“So, I’m fairly new around here. Any good spots to hang out that I should know about, Star? ”
I raised a perplexed brow. “Star?”
“Yeah. Fitting nickname, don’t you think?” he said, gently stroking a strand of my silver hair near my cheek. The back of his knuckle brushed against my skin, and though the contact was minimal, it shot fire all through my nervendings.
I cleared my throat and quickly turned away, letting his question bring my heart rate back down. “My favorite places might not be what others would consider good hang out spots. This café is my favorite place to get coffee, and their house cinnamon roll is the best you’ll ever have.”
“The best?” Dante repeated. He rubbed his black-stubbled chin skeptically. “That’s pretty big talk. I’ll be the judge of that.”
I waved my hand in a silent green light. “Judge away.”
We made it to the front of the line, and I placed my coffee order. Without hesitating, Dante added another hot coffee and two cinnamon rolls. He produced his card to pay before I could even open my mouth to object.
“Thank you,” I said as we stepped aside to wait for our order. “You didn’t have to do that. I feel bad. You’ve bought my stuff twice now.”
“I like doing it.”
I tried not to let his response go to my head, but, regardless, my heart raced slightly.
Our orders were called out, and we grabbed them before moving to a table by the window.
“Moment of truth,” Dante announced seriously as he opened the box that contained his delicious treat.
He cut off a bite, the hot icing dripping around the cinnamon doughy goodness. His eyes stayed locked on mine as he brought the food up to his lips and chewed. I held my breath and waited on the edge of my seat for his judgment.
“Well?” I questioned after he’d swallowed.
He pursed his lips, leaned back in his chair, and declared, “Okay. You were right. That shit was good.”
I beamed proudly and sat up taller in my seat. “I told you. If there’s two things I know, it’s food and books.”
Dante really perked up then. “Books? You like reading?”
“I love reading. Books are my world. I always stop by the bookstore next door or the library down the street after I leave here on Saturday mornings.”
“Sick. We’ll go there after we’re done here. I needed to find the local library and bookstores, so this is perfect.”
It was my turn to lean forward in amazement. “You like reading?”
“Fuck yeah, I do. Though, I’ve been reading a lot of duds lately. Got any recommendations for good books?”
I nibbled my lip and pondered the question as I twirled my coffee on the table. “I know some great ones, but I’m not sure if you’d like them.” I flashed him a sheepish smile. “I only read romance books.”
He nodded, his nose ring glinting in the light. “Okay. Lay ‘em on me.”
I stared at him like he’d just appeared out of thin air. “You read romance books?”
He cocked his head and raised a brow. “What? You think guys can’t read romance books?”
Alarm struck lightning quick, and my eyes doubled in size. I quickly held up my hands and waved them wildly as though to make the mere idea disappear. “What? O-Oh my gosh, no. Of course, they can! That’s not—”
He started laughing and leaned his forearm on the table, the perfect picture of ease and not one of offense. “I’m just messing with you. Seriously, though. Recommend me anything. I read it all, especially romance. I find it … educational.”
There was no missing the heat that flooded his gaze on the last word, nor the sensual edge to his voice. I pictured Dante leaning back on a bed, naked while reading a spicy romance book. Fire flooded my bloodstream.
I snatched my coffee and quickly downed some as I banished the indecent image from my head.
The heat remained on my cheeks, so I set to digging in my purse for some paper and a pen.
I grabbed one of my capybara-shaped post-it notes and jotted down the first three book recommendations that came to mind.
“Here are some different books that I really like. There’s a fantasy romance, a dark romance, and a sports romance, depending on what you like.” I finished writing the titles and handed it over to him.
He glanced at the note with a bemused smirk. He didn’t seem to be reading what I wrote, but, rather, looked at the actual sheet of paper itself.
“It’s a capybara,” I quickly explained, feeling silly for writing the books on that instead of on standard notebook paper. He probably thought I was so weird, carrying around animal-shaped sticky notes.
He made a noncommittal sound. “I can’t wait to try all of these.”
I sat back in my seat, and despite my efforts, I stared at him—this god of a man, this celebrity, my idol.
I still couldn’t believe this was happening.
How had I woken up this morning and found myself sitting across from Dante Braxton of Sinners Do It Better, eating cinnamon rolls and discussing books?
I swallowed down the bite I’d just taken of my own cinnamon roll and shook my head. “This is so crazy. I can’t believe that you’re here. With me. What made you guys relocate to Tennessee of all places, anyway? If you don’t mind me asking.”
He finished off his food and sipped on his coffee. “You can ask whatever you want of me.” He winked then finished, “As for what brought us here, it was Zagan’s dick.”
I choked on my coffee and stared at him with wide eyes.
Dante shrugged, unfazed by my shock at his blasé delivery of such a statement. “Just speaking facts.”
I pushed away my now empty food container and tried to drink without spewing hot coffee everywhere. After a few successful sips, I probed, “So the rumors are true, then? He really has a girlfriend here?”
There had been rumors circulating among the Sinners community about the band relocating to Tennessee and their sudden hiatus, which they were still on.
Zagan, the lead singer of the group, had been spotted around the area a lot lately, and those sightings gave birth to the rumor that he was dating a mystery brunette.
Some Sinners were losing their minds over the idea that the members were dating, but I personally didn’t care what Sinners Do It Better got up to.
As long as they were happy, that was all that mattered.
Dante stared out the window, and his lips tightened as the teasing light left them. “Something like that.”
“I think that’s sweet.” I grabbed our trash and made my way to the trash can with him right on my heels, holding our coffees.
“No,” he said as he handed me my coffee and opened the door for me. He trailed alongside me as we drifted down the street to the library, and his voice lowered in mock outrage, “No. We don’t think it’s sweet, Serenity.”
The warm light and smell of old books greeted us. I soaked in the easy familiarity of the large space as I went straight for the romance section. Dante was right behind me, and he pulled books off the shelf at my side, looking at their covers.
“You don’t want your friend to be in a relationship?” I asked.
“No,” he answered, the seriousness back in his voice. “It’s inconvenient.”
I paused and thought about it. Sinners Do It Better was extremely popular with billions of fans worldwide.
The demand for their music, their presence on TV shows and interviews, and their consistent concerts was high.
Being in New York, they were closer to those gigs and had access to plenty of recording and filming options.
Here in Tennessee, those things were farther away, and the atmosphere as a whole was completely different.
It was true—suddenly moving here had surely turned their professional world on its axis.
Dante sat the book he held back on the shelf and held up the capybara-shaped note I’d written him.
I bit my lip to hide my grin. Watching him find my book suggestions to build a quickly growing stack was doing something electric to my insides.
He didn’t have to actually get the books I’d recommended, but he was.
He listened to and wanted my opinion, a fact that squeezed my heart in a precious hug.
But that feeling was nothing compared to the wave of euphoria I got when he reached for a book, only to produce one that I recognized instantly. I’d know that purple, black, and silver dragon’s scales cover anywhere. The author’s name, SC Draven, seared into my eyes.
I held my breath and tried not to watch him too hard as he read the blurb. His dark eyes skimmed the synopsis, interest immediately raising a brow. He wordlessly added that book to his hefty stack.
There were thousands of books on these shelves. Books written by reputable authors, books with big publisher names tied to them, books with prettier covers, books that everyone recommended.
Yet Dante chose mine.
Among the thousand, he chose mine.
I’d been writing stories for as long as I could remember. I’d found my home—I’d found myself—in books and words. Reading and writing was often what made existing worth the struggle of living. I could be anyone, go anywhere, and experience a thousand lives between those pages.
I wasn’t Serenity, the weirdo. I was Serenity, the queen.
I wasn’t invisible. I was wanted.
I wasn’t the girl with monsters in her head. I was the girl with monsters fighting at her command.
I’d always known I wanted to be an author. I wanted to create tales that reached inside of people and held on tightly. Stories where magic was real, people of every kind found love, and happiness was abundant for all.
When I’d graduated high school and announced to my dad that I was going to pursue my dream of being an author, he was devastated.
He’d hoped I’d be a doctor, a scientist studying for the cure of some disease, or even a business owner like him.
The miniscule puff of pride he’d managed to carry in his chest for his “genius” daughter disappeared that day.
Now when he looked at me, there was no missing the trace of disappointment in his eyes.
Dad didn’t care that writing still made me a genius. I came up with entire worlds, characters, and stories before crafting them into a whole ass book. But it didn’t matter. In his eyes, being an author wasn’t a real, successful job.
And since I wasn’t going to have a “real” job, I got to become one of his many employees at his construction and real estate company.
I appreciated his willingness to give me a job, but that reality also made my spirit deflate.
Working there meant I wasn’t where I wanted to be, yet—I hadn’t made it as an author.
I had about three-hundred sales for the total lifespan of my author career thus far, and there were days when I silently felt like my dream was impossible.
And what then? If I couldn’t spend my life writing and doing what I loved, what was the point of it all? It was a question I’d been struggling with a lot over the years.
Why bother fighting for the impossible?
Why keep trying when you aren’t good enough?
Why push on when no one cares about you?
I glanced at Dante’s stack of books again—at my book. A pinprick of warmth blossomed inside of me.
Maybe hope wasn’t lost, because there was someone who saw my potential. He saw that fantasy romance book on the shelf and chose it. Something on that cover or in the blurb spoke to him, and, just maybe, my words would, too.
He was just one person, and it wasn’t even an actual sale to put money in my pocket. But it was a baby step toward becoming a full-time author. And these days, those steps felt like leaps toward my future.
We made our way to the check-out counter, and as the librarian got his library membership set up, Dante turned to me. “So what does the rest of the day have in store for you?”
“From here, I always go to the zoo.”
His eyebrow shot up while the hint of a smirk teased his lips. “The zoo?”
Heat bloomed across my face as I stammered, “A-Adults can go to the zoo, too. I love animals, so going there to read—” or write “—is my little happy time.”
He pursed his lips and studied me. I wasn’t sure if he found my Saturday routine weird like Bradley did.
Bradley had never understood my love for “dirty, smelly” animals or my general dislike for being social with people.
But that was to be expected, considering he was as social as a person could be.
That fact always made people ask how we ended up and stayed together.
I sometimes wondered the same thing.
“That sounds nice,” Dante noted, pulling out his phone. After checking it, he slid it back into his pocket and met my gaze. “I won’t hold up your date with the animals. Feel free to send me pics.”
That fire on my face combusted as my voice rose. “P-Pics?”
Dante gave me a pointed look as he fought a grin. “At the zoo, Star. Pictures of the animals.” His brown eyes raked over me, igniting with their own kind of heat. “Unless you’re offering to send other kinds of—”
“Got it!” I cut him off, spinning on my heel. “Pictures of animals. Bye!”
I raced out of the library. My heart pounded, and the sound of Dante’s rich laughter followed after me.