CHAPTER Twelve #2
“Turn around, let me help you,” Sasha offers, already taking the bottle from my hand.
Gratefully, I spin around and sit up straighter as she squeezes a dollop into her palms and starts working the sunscreen into my back and shoulders. Her touch is quick but gentle, and the coolness of the lotion is a relief against the heat of the sun.
“You’re a true friend,” I say, flashing her a grateful smile over my shoulder.
“I got you, girl,” she grins, rubbing in the last bit with a little pat before tossing the bottle back onto my towel.
The easy laughter between us floats on the breeze, the kind of light, natural connection that feels like slipping into a well-worn, favorite hoodie—comforting and exactly what I didn’t realize I needed, especially after what happened with Heidi.
I saw her leave Hellwake’s bus the morning after the show and get in her car. Still having her location I made sure she got home safely, but I haven’t heard from her.
The whole crew is here, minus Vernon, who opted to explore the city alone. If Elias is a loner, Vernon is a professional-grade recluse. Though, I suspect it has more to do with the age gap between him and the rest of us.
Jasper and Grady waste zero time before launching into simultaneous cannonballs, sending a tidal wave of chlorinated destruction onto Sasha and me.
“Hey, watch it, assholes!” she yells, shaking water from her sunglasses.
Jasper throws a guilty little grimace, but I can tell by the mischievous gleam in his eye that he is far from sorry.
Cody, already up to his usual antics, grinning wildly from the pool. “Come on, ladies, join us! Let’s play chicken!”
Sasha and I exchange a knowing look, both shrugging in unspoken agreement before standing.
I pull my cover-up over my head, revealing my bright red bikini.
And just as I am about to step toward the pool, I feel it.
That heat, but not from the sun.
A gaze.
Elias.
He is lounging in the shade, non-alcoholic drink in hand, wearing black swim trunks that hang low on his hips, his tattooed chest, neck, and arms on full display—each intricate design standing out against his tan skin.
A thin, silver chain rests against his collarbone, catching the light, and his dark, damp hair looks slightly tousled, like he’s just stepped out of the water but hasn’t bothered to dry off completely.
And his eyes? They are slowly traveling up my body, lingering just a second too long before flicking away the moment I catch him.
Busted.
A satisfied smirk curls onto my lips. Now we are even.
I resist the urge to gloat, filing that little moment away for later, and turn back toward the pool.
Jasper pulls Sasha into a hug, kissing her deeply like they have been married for decades, which, if I’m being honest, warms my heart a little. Even in the chaos of tour life, they still make time to be completely wrapped up in each other.
“On my shoulders, Ro!” Cody announces before dunking underwater.
I can hear Grady shouting bets, Elias probably rolling his eyes somewhere in the background, and for the first time in a long time, I feel completely weightless—not just physically, but in every possible way.
Jasper disappears beneath the surface before popping back up with Sasha perched confidently on his shoulders, water streaming down his face in glistening rivulets.
I’m now on Cody’s back, and we brace ourselves for battle.
Sasha and I link hands, palms pressed tight, pushing against each other with playful determination.
Our laughter echoes across the rooftop, mixing with the sounds of splashing water and the beat of music floating from nearby speakers.
Below us, the guys start their own mini skirmish, hurling splashes at each other, their shouts half-laughs, half-warnings.
Cody launches one massive wave that crashes into Jasper, causing him to stumble just enough for me to gain the upper hand.
With a victorious grin, I lean forward and send Sasha toppling into the pool with a squeal.
Cody and I both throw our hands in the air like champions, his laughter ringing in my ears as he twirls me once in celebration. But my win is short-lived; he dips his shoulder, and I tumble backward into the water with a delighted shriek.
Jasper resurfaces beside me, grinning as he jokingly splashes water on my face. I return the gesture before I raise a hand to meet Sasha’s, our soaked high five sealing the match with mutual respect.
Meanwhile, the boys continue their watery wrestling match, all elbows and dunking, while the sun beats down and laughter lingers like a soundtrack to the perfect afternoon.
Tired from our poolside battle, I wander back toward my lounge chair, the heat of the sun still clinging to my skin as I grab a towel to dry off.
That’s when I notice it. Elias has moved seats. He’s now positioned closer to mine, his chair completely shaded from the sun.
I tell myself it’s because he wants to be near me. The more logical part of my brain tells me it’s just because the sun shifted and he’s following the shade. But a girl can dream.
He’s in his usual state of deep focus, writing in that worn leather notebook, his brows furrowed slightly, the tip of his pen tapping against the paper as if searching for the right words.
I try to move quietly, settling into my chair without disturbing him, and pick up my book—a romance novel.
It doesn’t take long before I’m completely lost in the story, the playful, flirty banter between the characters pulling a grin to my lips. I lift a hand to hide my smile, knowing I probably look like a lovesick fool, but I can’t help it.
The only thing that snaps me back to reality is Elias’s voice.
“What are you reading?”
His question startles me, my fingers momentarily tightening around the book.
“Oh, um… it’s just a romance novel,” I say, feeling weirdly embarrassed, which is ridiculous, because who cares if I’m reading a love story? They are my favorite.
But something about him asking makes it feel exposed, like he’s peering into something personal.
He doesn’t make fun of me, doesn’t scoff. He just looks at me with mild curiosity, like the concept itself is foreign to him.
“What’s it about?”
I blink.
He’s serious. Like… actually asking.
I tilt my head, grinning slightly.
“Love.”
Elias gives me an annoyed look, closing his notebook with an exaggerated slowness.
“No shit,” he says, shifting his body to face my chair.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was flirting.
I lean into the tease, lifting a shoulder.
“The two characters, who don’t like each other at the beginning, are forced to work at the same place and end up falling in love.”
His expression is unimpressed.
“So… super cliché.”
“I think the word you’re looking for, Elias, is ‘cute’.” I challenge, raising a brow. He just stares at me, that signature stoic expression firmly in place.
“And what are you doing over there?” I nod toward his notebook. “Writing love songs?”
For the first time, Elias lets out a huff of laughter, shaking his head. “I don’t write love songs.”
“Why not? I bet you could write a mean one.” My tone is still playful, but I mean it. With the way he writes, the rawness, the emotion—I just know a love song from him would be something that wrecks souls.
But then something shifts.
Elias glances down at his notebook, his fingers idly tracing the worn edges of the leather cover, and when he speaks again, his voice is quieter.
“Love really isn’t my thing.”
And just like that, the teasing is gone. I watch him for a moment, the way his eyes flicker toward the horizon, like he’s looking at something far away, out of reach.
I don’t press. Instead, I just turn back to my book, even though I’m not reading anymore.
Because for the first time, I realize something about Elias Hawthorne.
He doesn’t write love songs because he doesn’t believe in them, or maybe he doesn’t believe he deserves it.