Maybe (12 page)

My hand trails over my nipples, onto my stomach, and rests there until he reaches over and places it where we’re joined. “I want to see you make yourself come.”

Picking up the pace, he holds eye contact, and I do as he’s asked. My fingers reach farther, and I press, circling above where his cock disappears and reappears over and over. I can’t hold on to him any longer, and my legs fall to the mattress when I begin to tremble. Palm to my face, I gasp and press my cheek against the comforter while I continue to work my clit until I can’t breathe and my limbs freeze up. The force of the orgasm elicits another one of those sounds that’s not just a moan but a loud low note that pierces the air around us. The pulsing between my legs is only overshadowed by the deep thrusts, which have sped up.

He slows and goes still, curving his body over mine to kiss my neck. “You fucking sing when you come, Peach. Did you know that?” When he pulls out, I’m shaking and exhausted. Covered in sweat, my hands are in my hair, eyes closed and heartbeat filling my ears and chest. It’s only for a moment because I’m satisfied and liquid when he begins to cup my breasts, his thumbs making my nipples hard, and the desire for him pools between my closed thighs. With a roll, I end up on my stomach and rise to all fours.

I don’t need to say that I want him to take me. When I lift my ass in the air and drop my forehead to the bed, he steps behind and lays a gentle kiss on my spine. I have to grip on to the sheets when he enters me again, because if I thought he felt good while I was on my back, the angle of his cock from behind makes me want to scream.

I push back against him with each of his rough thrusts, giving him everything I’ve got. It feels so good, and he’s so deep that I have to close my eyes and cry out into the bunched up material in my hands. This time is faster than before, and I just want him to come. I brace myself with one arm and rise up even more to slip my hand down to where we’re joined. I can feel his cock, and my first and second fingers grip his shaft while he speeds up even more, hitting a spot deep within that takes my breath away.

His hands grip my hips so tightly that his wrists begin to shake, and he pulls me as close as possible before he gasps my name and goes still for a few seconds. I feel him pulse and shake, his last thrusts stilted when he comes. His fingers loosen their grip, and he staggers backward while I fall to the bed, facedown and soaked with sweat.

I hear him walk to the bathroom, but I don’t move. When he appears at the side of the bed, he’s carrying a glass of water. “I thought you might need this.”

I crawl to the edge and take it, wondering how crazy I look at this very minute because I’m sure half my makeup is on the bed and the rest is all over my face. Not to mention the disaster on my head. Once in the bathroom, I confirm that I do, in fact, look like an insane circus clown. With a quick face wash and comb through with the brush I’ve found on his counter, I feel like I can face him again. I’m still naked, but there’s a chance that my dress is not in one piece. It’s not like he wasn’t just finger fucking me wide open out there anyway.

I’m so tired, and the fight has gone out of me. I just want to sleep. He’s sitting up against the headboard, studying me while I move to the edge of the bed. “Don’t look like that. Come on and get in.” He pats the comforter, and I’ve never been so happy to be asked to sleep.

Nestled into his arm, I have enough strength to look up at his serene face. His eyes are closed, and he’s breathing slowly, rubbing his thumb along my waist.

“How is it?”

He smiles without looking at me. “It’s perfect.”

The stinging in my nose causes me to dip my head into the side of his chest, beneath his chin.

And right before I fall asleep, I swear I hear him ask me to stay.

Morning light is streaming across the bed, and my left hand feels unnaturally warm while my right is freezing cold. I’m greeted with the silence of Tyler’s apartment and an empty bed. A piece of paper sits where his head should be on his pillow, and I pull it closer to read what he’s left.

Stay? I’ll see you there.

I stare at the note for longer than I should, swallowing the sadness that’s creeping into my throat. There’s no staying. I’ve made my choice, and I have a flight to catch. My clothes are all over the place, but once I’ve located them and dressed to the best of my ability, I take the paper in my hands and turn it over. With the black marker he has on the kitchen counter, I write a note of my own and leave it there for him to find when he returns.

Less than an hour later, I’m standing outside with Laura while I load my belongings into the cab. She’s wringing her hands, and I give her a hug to stop the motion.
 

“I’ll see you soon?”

I let her go and give her a little nudge on the chin with my fist. “Of course. Your time here is almost up, too.”

Laura nods and holds her hand up to shield her eyes while she gazes down the street. “It was fun here.”

“Austin is weird.”

“So the bumper stickers say.” She manages a soft smile.

I open the cab door and turn back to look at her. “You know what?”

“What?”

“I wish I’d been here long enough to see the bats.”

PART 2

Chapter Eighteen

Almost a year later I’m eating cereal in the apartment I share with Rachel and Daniel, my roommates. Seattle has been a nice change of pace, and I’ve grown to like my new job. It’s more sitting and less action, but finding talent instead of following it has been much less stressful.

“Are you eating Fruity Pebbles again?” Daniel is a worrier and always circling like a hawk. Rachel is the exact opposite, because she couldn’t care less what I do, which is probably why they make such a fantastic couple.

“You know what? I think you worry so much because you’re afraid you won’t go to heaven.”

“Don’t . . .”

Rachel calls from the other room. “It’s true! Gingers don’t have souls, so you’re working overtime, babe.”

Daniel glares and points his thick finger at my face. “You need to eat something. And do your laundry.”

I shrug and drink the rest of my fruity flavored milk from the bowl. “I’ll get to it.”

Rachel walks through the kitchen, hands in her long black locks, eyeing everything on the countertops. “You need a haircut.”

“I had one six weeks ago. Leave me alone and stop trying to touch my hair.” Living with a stylist makes me self-conscious all the time. She’s constantly checking for split ends when we watch movies together.

It’s our Sunday routine. We argue about my eating habits and what a slob I’ve become since leaving Texas. She cleans up after me and her boyfriend until she has to leave to visit her grandpa in his senior living complex, and then we watch a movie like we’re in some dysfunctional three-person marriage.

I don’t go out much anymore unless I’m being contacted by a manager to check out a band that’s playing nearby. The lines on my map have stopped turning red.

“
Top 20
is on,” Daniel says, jerking his head toward the living room.

This is also part of the routine because they’re fascinated by what I do, but I like to watch to see if any of my bands ever make it on there. Only one has as so far, but they were number twenty for a week and then fell off the charts like a lead balloon.

Today I nurse a large coffee that Daniel brought back from his morning walk—it’s too sweet, and I love it. Jim Shearer is deadpanning his way through some cue cards when words I never thought I’d hear come out of his mouth. An interview with an up-and-coming band whose single shot to the top of the charts in record time. Their first video is debuting this week at number five. And they’re with him for an interview.

The moment Tyler’s face fills my screen, I have to close my mouth and breathe out of my nose. I mean, I knew it was coming. The song has been on every rock and pop station in every state in the country. I’ve tried to avoid it, but there’s no fighting it, so I sing along in the car and pretend I never knew him so I can enjoy the lyrics.

We’ve only spoken a handful times since I left, and the first call was the hardest.

“You left a note.”

“
You
left a note, if you remember.”

“At least mine didn’t say to keep in touch.”

“Let’s not twist words around. It said call me when you can. And for the record? Yours said ‘meet me there.’ But you knew. You
knew
I was leaving, so it was a pussy move on your part.”

Now I’m staring at his face, and the only thing I want to do is go to my room and put on my favorite T-shirt, lie in my bed, and watch it alone.

But I haven’t been able to find my peach shirt since I moved in.

I never told Rachel or Daniel about the band I shadowed in Texas. Laura would call with updates, like how they’d been approached in the green room after their performance at South by Southwest. The AR rep wanted them immediately. Jon tried to say that Tyler was the only one they needed, but his friend wouldn’t go for it. It was the entire band or nothing.

They’d had to record a new album with Tyler on lead with new material, they added a fourth member to the band, and it didn’t take long for their single to drop. Which is why they’re telling the host of the countdown that their North American tour begins in just a few weeks’ time.

I can’t tear my eyes away from the sight of them on my television screen, and I’m tensed, waiting for a call from either Rynn or Laura any second. My phone remains eerily silent.

“Your album is
Songs in the Key of E
. When does it officially come out?”

Tyler looks like he’s blushing and glances at the others, who are staring between him and the camera like they can’t believe this is happening. “March 15th. We’re having a release party in New York after we do an appearance on
The Tonight Show
.”

“It’s surreal,” Shawn says into his microphone. I shake my head because he just can’t fight the instinct to be in the spotlight for even one second.

Jim wraps up the interview, and the camera pans back. My eyes narrow, and I lean forward a little to make sure I’m seeing what I think I am.
That ass is wearing my damn shirt
.

It’s snug, but it fits him well. Where it was loose at my sides, it’s a little tighter on him, and the hem is tucked into the front of his jeans. He’s effortlessly sexy in my favorite T-shirt, and I’m pissed. The peach on the front mocks me.

“That guy is cute. But why is his mouth so red?”

“Suckers.” Without thinking, I pick up my phone from the coffee table, and he answers on the third ring.

“You stole my shirt, Mace Face.”

He laughs like he can’t believe I just figured it out. “You left it in the laundry room.”

“God, you’re a bad liar. You used your keys and went through my drawers?”

“You
left it behind
.”

There’s more to his statement than what he’s just said, and it makes my fingers clench around the coffee cup. The light in the room dims, and his insinuation makes me feel colder than the wind outside.

“Congratulations on making
Top 20
. Your video is on in a few seconds.”

“Yeah, I know. Listen, about the video . . .”

I stop listening before he can finish his sentence because the black and white intro on my screen with his music playing in the background is causing my entire body to seize up and stomach to drop.

“This isn’t funny, Tyler.” It’s a dilapidated apartment complex with the band playing outside. Then it cuts to scenes of Tyler and a girl in her room while she’s looking into a mirror with her arms above her head or leaning in while he plays piano, followed by shots of them arguing. It’s the end that really puts a lump in my throat because she boards a plane without turning around to say goodbye.

I can see Rachel inching toward me on the couch, but I slam the coffee cup down and stand to side-step her and march to my room. “That was completely unfair of you. Did you forget to tell the director about the part where you told me to leave? Or was that entire thing a fucking coincidence?”

He pauses before he speaks, but he has no humor in his voice when he responds. “Am I supposed to apologize? You know who those songs are about, Emily.”