Always (6 page)

Dillon laughed. “Just listen to the next one. They get better. Wait till you hear them sing harmony.”

“They’re my new favorite thing. Are they signed?”

“Nope. Playing these gigs to fifty people in basements. Can you believe it?”

“I can sympathize.”

She felt his elbow bump into her side. “And just like them, you’re not staying there for long.”

The chorus repeated and Justine closed her eyes to listen. Her fingertips drummed on the wood floor at her sides. She could feel her throat go tight with the urge to sing along. Her chest felt heavy with emotion. Only a really good song could make her feel that way.

“Listen to this one,” Dillon said during the pause between songs. “There’s this chord shift thing they do that will blow your mind.”

She listened, eyes closed, staring into the darkness behind her eyelids until her heart pulsed in time with the music. The singer’s voice reached inside, wrapped around her chest, squeezed tight. She pressed her palms to the floor and waited for the chorus to start again, till the hook she already couldn’t forget took over. Dillon began to hum at her side, a soft raspy sound winding in and out of the song in her ears and in her heart.

“This,” he murmured softly, and the song opened up, the vocal soaring high, the other voices came in singing harmony, sounding like so much more than four people playing in a small room. Sounding like magic. She felt all the tiny hairs on her arms stand up. The back of her neck tingled. She inhaled, the oxygen feeding the feeling, the song and the moment blowing her away.

“Wow.”

“Right?”

The way Dillon’s voice sounded, she’d swear the hair on his arms was standing up, too.

When the recording faded out, they stayed silent, laying side by side staring at the ceiling.

Justine broke the silence first, her voice husky and low with emotion. “Thanks for playing that for me.”

“I have another recording of them, from a different night.”

“Yes,” Justine said, before he’d even finished speaking. Dillon chuckled and sat up. He raked his hands through his hair again.

“Hey, do you want to smoke a little?”

Justine opened her eyes and glanced at him. Dillon sat up straighter. “I mean, if you do that. Sorry, I didn’t even ask—”

“No, it’s okay. I do. I mean, sometimes I do. Just not when I’m on stage.”

Dillon squinted and tilted his head slightly. “Why not?”

Justine shrugged. “I don’t know. I just… I like performing live. I like the feeling, me and the audience. I don’t like anything messing with it, even fun stuff.”

Dillon was quiet, seeming to consider that for a moment. Justine kept talking to fill the silence. “But now would be perfect. If you want to.”

He smiled and pushed himself off the floor. “Hang tight.”

He disappeared up the stairs and reappeared a few minutes later with a ziplock and a small pipe. After he’d packed and lit it, he passed it to Justine for the first hit. She inhaled, letting the sweet burn sweep down her throat, before passing it back. Through the haze of blue-grey smoke, she watched him raise the pipe to his lips, wrapping them around it and inhaling deeply with his eyes closed. As she floated up on the initial high, the colors of his face sharpened and his beauty became sublime. His upper lip, the perfect shape and swell of it, seemed like a small miracle, as was the tiny cleft in his chin, impossible to see unless she was this close to him. She grew fixated by his eyes, the heavy lids, half-closed as he exhaled, his long, dark eyelashes casting shadows on his cheekbones. Smoke swirled up around him, obscuring his face slightly.

He stood, passing the pipe back to her before returning to his laptop. Two clicks on his computer and the music started again, so poignant and lovely she could almost feel it unfurling from his speakers, something she could reach out and touch. She looked up at Dillon, who was looking down at her with the same blindsided expression on his face. It was too hard to look at him, at his dazzled dark eyes, when her own senses were so overwhelmed, so she closed her eyes and fell back on the floor.

Music filled the room, louder than before, or maybe it just seemed that way. She could swear she felt Dillon’s heartbeat through the floorboards when he lay down next to her, keeping time with the song, keeping time with her own heart. They said nothing, their breaths the only sound in the room aside from the music, so achingly lovely. Justine longed for so much. She wanted to be as big as the music sweeping her up, wrapping around her like a lover’s arms.

She lost track of how long they lay there, listening to music. Dillon got up only to play something else for her, every song better than the last. They smoked a little more, but mostly it was just the music. The afternoon light grew golden, and then eventually faded. The trees outside cast shifting shadows on the walls.

Eventually, Justine felt her feet touch the ground again, her body settling back into itself. The music was just music again. She couldn’t see it in the air or feel it on her skin. She was an ordinary human once more. And she was
hungry
.

“Jesus, I’m starving,” Dillon grumbled at her side, and she erupted into laughter. He chuckled, too, and then her stomach growled loudly, which reduced them both to helpless laughing. She pulled her feet up and wrapped her arms across her traitorous stomach as the tears streamed down her temples and into her hair as she laughed and laughed. Suddenly there was nothing on earth funnier than being hungry.

“You want to order some food?” Dillon suggested. All she could do was giggle in response. “I’m going to take that as a yes,” he chuckled, pushing to his feet and heading off to the kitchen.

Later they sat facing each other cross-legged, a Chinese food feast spread out on the floor between them, completely sober. Music still played in the background. It was another brilliant performer she’d never heard of. She’d long since lost track of their names and who sang what. Dillon was busy emailing her mp3 files and links to websites.

“Thanks for today,” Justine said, feeling suddenly awkward after the long day they’d shared.

“For what?” he asked absently, still typing as he chewed a shrimp dumpling.

“Today. All the music. I had a really good time.”

Dillon looked up at her and smiled. “I had fun, too. But we’re not done yet.”

Justine swallowed down the rush of adrenaline. “What are we doing?”

“You gotta help me with a song.”

“Me?”

“Um, Justine, it’s pretty clear we come from the same place where music is concerned. So yeah. I’m working on this song and I’m stuck. I want to play it for you, okay?”

As delighted as his words made her, she was determined to keep control of herself and this situation. There was no room for swooning. “Yeah, sure. I’d like that.”

She pushed the takeout containers to the side while Dillon retrieved his guitar. He settled back down across from her, tuning it a little and adjusting his capo.

“So this is really raw. I’m trying to do this thing with the chorus, but I haven’t figured it out yet.”

“Just play, Dillon.”

He played.

She knew she was sober. The weed had long since left her system. So there was nothing to account for the light-headed euphoria she felt except his music. She loved the songs Dillon wrote when they were safely on her ipod or playing in her car. Here, in his dark living room, with Dillon himself playing one just for her, she was undone, shaken to her foundation and unbearably vulnerable. She had to be careful. This man could ruin her so easily.

He sang along with it in his imperfect, raspy voice, more a suggestion of the vocal part than a true performance. But it didn’t matter. Justine could fill it in for herself. She
wanted
to fill it in for herself. She wanted to be the counterpoint to the song he was spinning out. She wanted to sing it for him, but she didn’t. Taking over singing the vocal of the song he’d written seemed presumptuous.

“So, that’s all I have so far.”

“It’s good. I love it. It’s so good.”

“Do you see what I mean about the chorus?”

“I see what you’re going for, but—”

“What? Tell me?”

She smiled, remembering their first conversation at the bar, when she’d pressed him for honesty he wasn’t sure she wanted.

“I have this idea. Can I sing something? Is that okay?”

Dillon’s face lit up. “I’d kill to hear you sing one of my songs.”

She ducked her head to hide her smile and sang the passage she’d imagined as he played, his melody, but nuanced and with a raw edge of emotion a guitar could never capture. “Something like that,” she murmured when she was done.

Dillon stared at her, his face blank. Finally he said “Jesus, how do you do that?”

She laughed nervously and waved her hand. “It’s your song. It’s just what I imagined when you played it.”

“No, it’s perfect. Exactly right. Damn, Justine, your voice…”

She looked up when he trailed off and found him watching her with those hooded, mysterious eyes. A tremor of electricity shot through her straight to her stomach, but she didn’t look away. She couldn’t have, even if she’d wanted to. She was pinned to the ground by his dark eyes, eyes she felt she’d always known.

The room was still dim, only one sad lamp sitting on the floor in the corner, throwing a weak light over them. Justine’s eyes looked huge, sparkling in the shadows of her face. This was a moment, Dillon knew it. After a long afternoon of music and weed, feeling more connected to her than he’d felt to anyone since Ash back when they were kids, this was the moment. If he wanted to, he could set his guitar to the side, lean across and touch her beautiful face. He could kiss her. She’d let him. She’d kiss him back. His heart started beating faster at the thought of it. Kissing Justine. Touching her. Taking her upstairs. It could happen now. In a lot of ways, it felt like it
should
happen.

But then he heard Rocky’s voice in his head. If Ash was the devil on his shoulder, then Rocky was his unlikely angel, pointing out all the things he’d be better off
not
doing. Rocky said she was the kind of girl a guy fell hard for and she was. Justine was a girl who changed everything. She’d make a guy be a better man.

For once, he imagined the day after, not just the night before. He imagined trying to be a better man for Justine while still being the guy in the band he’d always been, and he didn’t know how to do it. This thing had taken off, like a rocket lit underneath him. All he knew how to do right now was hang on and try to enjoy the ride before it burned out. He didn’t know how to fit Justine into the picture, not the way she’d need to be with him. He didn’t know much, but he knew Justine was an all or nothing proposition. He wasn’t sure if he could give her his all, not now.

So he wouldn’t let this moment happen. He wouldn’t lean across and kiss her, even though he wanted to. He wouldn’t take her hand and lead her upstairs. Because the rest of this day was worth more than a night of sex. The music he shared with her was too damned important to gamble on a flare of lust. For once, he’d do the right thing, not the rock star thing.

He was the one to look away first, down to his guitar. He plucked out notes and the moment slowly faded. A minute, later, he heard Justine shift her weight.

“I’d better get going,” she murmured, dusting her palms down her thighs before standing up.

“Thanks for coming over today. We should hang out again.” He looked up at her. She was smiling down at him, relaxed and easy, all the tension from the last few moments gone.

“That would be great. Hey, we’re playing at the Sound Lounge again tomorrow night. I know you’re probably busy—”

“I’ll be there.”

“You will?” She looked so surprised, so pleased, it made his heart hurt. This amazing girl had no business putting so much stock in a worthless fool like him. But still, she wanted him to come, so he wouldn’t miss it.

“Yeah, I will. I’ll be there.”

Her smile grew even wider. “Great. I guess I’ll see you then.”

“So the band we saw on New Year’s Eve…”

Ash rolled his head on the back of the couch to eye Dillon. He didn’t look back, focusing instead on his guitar propped in his lap.

They were technically just on a break from rehearsal for the tour, but JD went out for a pack of smokes and he hadn’t come back yet, leaving them all cooling their heels. Dillon was trying to be productive, finishing the song he’d worked on with Justine, but Ash had opened a bottle of Jack and Dillon feared he was at the end of his usefulness for the day. Besides, the band mood was celebratory since a rep from the label had stopped by earlier to tell them
Heartbreak Tonight
was the number ten single in the country. Maybe he should just ease up and celebrate like everybody else. Hell, they’d worked hard enough to get there. They all deserved a little fun.

“Which one?” Ash asked. “Primal?”

Dillon snorted. “Yeah, right.Why are you even friends with that guy Mick?”

Ash opened his mouth to reply, thought for a second, and shook his head. “I don’t know. I used to buy blow from this chick he was dating. Sometimes he’d come along and we’d party together.”

Dillon shook his head. “All your friends are people you use with, Ash.”

Ash looked at him again, his expression almost pained, and Dillon felt like a dick. That was a low blow and besides, he was hardly one to judge.

“Except you,” Ash said quietly. Dillon felt worse.

“Sorry, that was out of line.”

“Is this about the girl?”

“What girl?”

“The girl. The one we met that night. The one from the
other
band? The one that came backstage at the Greek? The one you’re hinting around about now. Is this about her?”

Dillon shook his head. “It’s not like that.”

Ash considered him for a long moment, appearing far more sober than Dillon had given him credit for. “So what
is
it like then?”

“Don’t be an ass, Ash. She’s talented. Really freaking talented. And you know it. I’m going to see them again tonight. You should come.”