Dare to Dream (Truth or Dare #2) (7 page)

“Hey, is there room on that couch for me?” she asks, pushing my legs to the floor so she can sit next to me. I take the coffee from her long enough that she’s able to nestle into my side. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like I couldn’t talk to you,” she says softly, her fingers tracing patterns along my chest.

“I know you didn’t, but that really doesn’t make me feel better.” I stare out the window of our room, thinking about all the times she and I sat to watch the sunrise on the hood of my Cutlass. Life was so much simpler then, before we admitted what we felt for one another. There were no secrets, no paranoia about upsetting the other. She was one of the few people I could say anything to without fear of judgment and I know I was the same for her. Somehow, we need to recapture that part of our friendship because that’s what made us strong enough to weather any storm.

“I’m sorry,” she says, eliciting a low growl from me. They’re the
only two words I don’t need or want to hear from her at this point. She presses her hand hard in the center of my chest, pushing herself up so she’s looking into my eyes. “Don’t get all pissy. I
am
sorry. I was so worried about giving you more to worry about when you need to be focusing on what’s happening with Pete that I shut down completely. It’s not fair of me to expect you to help me sort out my own--”

“Stop,” I demand, shifting my body to get more comfortable. “We’re a team, Lea. How many times have we said that we’ll never be able to survive long-distance if we can’t talk to
one another? The shitty thing is that we’re here together and you can’t even talk to me. How am I supposed to trust that you won’t keep shit from me once you go home?”

I’m beginning the regret my decision to have this talk on no sleep. I’m pissy and short-tempered, two things that don’t bode well for a calm, mature discussion.

“Do you seriously feel like you can’t trust me?” she asks warily. I tense my arm around her when she tries to sit up. This is hard enough, I don’t want there to be any space between us.

“I didn’t say that. All I meant is that if you’re already keeping shit from me, what’s going to happen once you get on that plane? How will I know you’re not withholding shit from me then
, because I’m down here and can’t do anything about it?” I lift Lea’s body so she’s sitting on my lap, holding her close to me in hopes that she’ll understand how terrified I am by the thought that she might be slipping away from me.

“I’ve already apologized, Colby,” she says defensively
, trying to get away from me. “Think about what all of this is like for me. I
love
that everything is going great for you. And I know that I’m the one who told you to call Pete while I’m here so I could be part of it, but that doesn’t make it any easier.”

She takes a deep breath, reaching up to twirl a lock of hair around her finger, the way she always does when she’s upset. “It was like something flipped inside of me while you were gone. I became obsessed with
the little things that have never mattered to me before and it freaked me out. I realized that I’m going to school because my parents wanted me to, not because I want to be there. And now, I’m turning into this high-maintenance girl because that’s what will be expected of me once you get more popular. Everything I do in my life is for someone else, not for me.”

“If you truly think I expect you to be someone you’re not as part of some public image, you don’t know me at all,” I retort, wishing for the first time since she woke up that there was space between us. “I fell in love with you for the woman that you are. I’m the luckiest son-of-a-bitch in the wor
ld because I get to wake up to someone who is so naturally beautiful that she can throw her hair in a ponytail, pull on whatever clothes she pulls out of the hamper and be out the door in under five minutes. Even when you mocked me for being too country, you were the one who was more comfortable in jeans and cowboy boots than a cute dress and fuck-me heels.
This
is why we need to talk. Because I don’t recall
once
telling you that you’re going to have to change who you are.”

A knock on the door saves us from escalating this conversation to a level that won’t do either of us any good. Lea quickly pushes away from me, pausing to rub her temples before answering the door.

The message that I’ve pissed her off is crystal clear when she sits at the small dining table against the wall instead of returning to sit next to me. She pulls the lid off one plate, immediately tossing down the silver cover before racing into the bathroom to retch. Any other morning, I would laugh at how bad off she is after a night of drinking, but this morning, it makes me feel like even more of an asshole.

I follow her into the bathroom, silently kneeling behind her to hold her hair while she’s sick. The gesture makes me think of all the times I’ve done this, every single
time before I was man enough to admit how much she meant to me. Stroking her back, I whisper in her ear, telling her that we’ve made it this far and I have no intention of giving up now.

Once she’s confident that there won’t be any more residual effects from last night’s fun, I help her off the marble floor, keeping my arms wrapped protectively around her waist while she brushes her teeth and cleans up.  I lead her to the couch, tossing a blanket over her legs before grabbing a glass of water and her breakfast.

“We need to finish this conversation,” I say, keeping my voice low in case she’s still suffering from a headache. “But I want to do it without fighting. We only have a few days left together and that’s not how I want to spend even a minute of my time with you.”

“I love you, Colby. I’m sorry for--”

Before I’m forced to listen to the same words I’ve already told her I don’t want to hear anymore, I close my mouth over hers, hoping to show her just how much I believe we’ll get through this.

Lea

By the time the city comes to life, I’m starting to think I might survive the day. It was touch and go for a while, thanks to far too many martinis and not nearly enough food yesterday. Even better, Colby and I have had a chance to talk. He promised me that he’ll support me in whatever decision I make about my future as long as I promised him that I wouldn’
t try to deal with my problems alone. Funny how the tides have turned because I remember a time, not that long ago, when I was the one saying similar words to him.

Colby’s at another meeting with Pete, so I decide to venture out in
to the city by myself. Realizing that one day of shopping with Rebecca hasn’t turned me into a girly girl who can appreciate hours spent perusing the sale racks, I wind up at Black Skye for lunch.

“There’s the woman responsible for contributing to the delinquency of my wife,” Aaron laughs as my eyes try to adjust to the dim lighting inside the building. Seeing him standing behind the bar, I wonder if he’s covering for Colby because I’m in town.

“I’m not sure what she told you, but the martini bar was
all
her idea,” I grumble, a bit more dramatically than necessary. I’m feeling good, but he doesn’t need to know that. And she was the one who insisted that every girls’ day needed to end with a few cocktails. I simply went along with the idea, figuring that alcohol might slow down my thinking. That plan might have worked a little too well. “Can I get a glass of water and a cheeseburger?”

Once my order is placed, Aaron perches himself on one of the chest coolers and we spend a bit of time getting to know one another. Unlike Rebecca, who I quickly began to see as a potential friend in Nashville, I feel like I’m under the microscope talking to Aaron. Short of ‘what are your intentions with Colby?’ I’m pretty sure he asked every question a parent would ask someone
his child was romantically involved with. The bell rings from the kitchen and seconds later, Aaron sets a mammoth burger and fries in front of me.

I devour my food in silence as Aaron helps a small group of tourists who walk in. My phone dings and I pull it out of my purse to see a text from Colby.

Guess who officially has an agent! X

Staring at the phone, I decide to have a little fun with him. It’s nice to have my head out of my ass so I can enjoy these moments.

I thought Luke Bryan had an agent long ago. ;)

When he responds less than a minute later, I throw my head back as I laugh at what he has to say.

:O You know who Luke Bryan is?? And no, smartass, not him.

Aaron winks at me as I think about how to reply this time.

Jason Aldean??

After five minutes, I start staring at my phone, wondering if I should have told him how proud I am instead of messing with his head. About thirty seconds after I convince myself that I suck at being a supportive girlfriend, his response comes through.

You’ve been holding out on me. I knew you’d realize that country kicks ass. Maybe I’ll let you think on it for a while instead of telling you to be ready in an hour because Pete’s sending a car for us.

There will be time for beating him later. Right now, I’m going to have to sprint back to the hotel so I can rush through getting ready for the party. I fumble through my purse trying to find my wallet when Aaron tells me not to worry about it. On any other day, I would insist on paying for my meal, especially after the copious amount of money Rebecca spent on me yesterday, but right now I’m grateful because my purse is a bottomless pit.

Just as I’m about to shove the front door open, Aaron calls out to me. I turn around and see him rounding the end of the bar to follow me. “I’ll give you a lift back to the hotel.”

I could seriously hug that man right about now.
I follow him to his truck, thanking him as he backs out of his parking stall. As he weaves his way through traffic, Aaron’s eyes keep glancing down to my hands, which I’m wringing furiously in my lap. Pete might have insisted that tonight is a laid-back party meant to give his artists who are in town a chance to relax and have fun, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be under the microscope. Both of us will be because the veteran musicians will be wondering who the new kid is. On top of that, I’m not looking forward to being surrounded by a group of strangers.

“It’ll be fine,” Aaron says, placing his hand over mine.

“Am I that transparent?” I ask, the laugh that passes my lips sounds forced.

I reach for the door handle as soon as Aaron pulls into the hotel parking lane, but again, he stops me. “A word of advice. These people are no different
than you and Colby. They all started somewhere and their spouses all had to adapt to a life they might not have been ready for. Think about that and don’t be afraid to make friends tonight. And if all else fails, Rebecca and I will be there later, so we’ll be able to help you out, not that I think you’re going to need it.”

“I wish I was as sure as you are,” I grumble, turning back to face him. “I’m not usually so insecure, but this is major for Colby and I’m terrified
that I’m going to screw it up. I don’t know the first thing about any of these people and have nothing in common with them.”

“Breathe, Lea,” Aaron chuckles. “As I said, they’ve all been where you are. And trust me, by the end of the night, you’ll be laughing at how stressed you are right now. You’
ll see. Now, get up there and get ready because right now you’re wasting valuable time.”

It’s not until the elevator chimes and the doors open that I realize I never told Aaron why I was in such a hurry to leave. Or that I didn’t tell him that Colby signed the contract today. Yet again, I was so wrapped up in my insecurity that I couldn’t think of anything but myself. I really need to get a grip because I hate feeling like this.

**

The fact that I’m standing in the lobby next to Colby, looking better than I thought possible, when our car pulls up in front of the building is nothing short of a miracle. Proving that he knows me better than I know myself, Colby had my curling iron plugged in, makeup bag lying on the vanity and all of my clothes laid out on the bed by the time I made it back to the room. I’m still self-conscious about the short hemline on the dress, but I’ve decided that Rebecca knows what she’s doing when it comes to putting together an outfit. The distressed cowboy boots we picked up carry accents of the same turquoise in my dress and the silver bracelet and drop earrings pull everything together to add a touch of sophistication.

“Have I told you how amazing you look tonight?” Colby whispers in my ear as he leads me to the car with one hand placed at the small of my back. I stop so his body presses against mine and turn my head.

“Yes, but I’ll never get sick of hearing it.” I reach behind our bodies to pull his face closer so I can reward him with a kiss. Colby’s arms fold around my waist, deepening the kiss as my fingers play with the hair at the nape of his neck. It’s only when the driver clears his throat, a not so subtle reminder that we have a timeline to keep, that either of us realize we’re making out in front of a luxurious hotel on a busy sidewalk. “I’m proud of you, baby,” I tell him as he slides into the seat next to me.

After
suffering through early evening traffic on I-65, I will never complain about the traffic back home again. It should be simple for everyone to pick a speed and just drive, but that doesn’t seem to be the case as we creep forward. At least I know now why we left so early. We make better time once we’re off the freeway. My attention is drawn to the neighborhoods, watching, as the homes grow bigger and more opulent the further we get from the main thoroughfare. As the anxiety builds, I remind myself that the people we’re going to be rubbing elbows with tonight are no different than we are—they’re simply at a different place in their life’s journey. They are where I know Colby will be someday.

“Are you ready?” Colby asks
as the driver pulls up a long driveway at the end of the cul-de-sac, our destination nestled away behind the privacy offered by trees covered in leaves that are at the peak of autumn color. If I ignore the fact that these homes cost more than a lot of people make in a decade, it’s actually a very quaint neighborhood. The type of place where the rich and famous can raise families without the prying eyes of the public constantly on them.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. How about you?” I ask, reaching over to smooth the collar of his crisp white button-down shirt. It dawns on me that I’ve seen Colby dressed up more in the past four days than in the entire time we lived together back home. And that’s a damn shame because the sight of him in dark, fitted jeans and a dress shirt is something I could experience every single day and never tire of. The only thing he could do to look any better is get a haircut so his unruly waves don’t look quite so out of control, but like everything in our lives right now, he’s a work in progress. And honestly, part of me would miss his unkempt look.

The smooth concrete driveway turns to cobblestone as we approach the house and my eyes grow wide at the charming beauty of the home. The house can’t be more than twenty years old, but it has an air of old Southern charm with the columns and arches framing the entryway. High windows flank either side of the front of the house and I allow myself to dream, if only for a moment, of what it would be like to live in a house like this someday, watching our children run in the front yard.

An imposing man wearing black jeans and a matching t-shirt greets us at the door
. Colby gives our names and we’re granted entrance into the grand foyer, complete with a double staircase winding around to the upper level of the home. I notice the fact that the stairs are wrought iron and distressed wood, giving the home a bit of character. No matter how regal it looks, this is truly a home. A place where real people live, not a status symbol meant to flaunt the wealth Pete has amassed throughout his life. That makes me feel a bit more at ease. Aaron was right, not five minutes after our arrival I’m feeling a bit foolish for seeing myself as beneath these people. They’re not any better than Colby and I—they simply have more zeroes in the balance of their bank account.

“Colby, Lea, I’m so glad you could make it!” Our heads turn to see Cameron striding through the kitchen toward us. He was a good looking man in the dark bar when I met him, but seeing him today, in the full light,
he is breathtaking. He’s a beast of a man with broad shoulders and arms that seem like they’ll tear his shirt if he moves just right. Well-manicured scruff highlights his strong jaw and when he smiles, you can see a hint of dimples at the corners of his mouth. But it’s his eyes that demand attention. They’re such a light blue against his tan skin that they almost look unnatural. “Let me give you the grand tour,” he says, offering me his arm.

Not wanting to seem ungrateful, I rest my hand in the crook at his elbow, allowing him to lead the way. Colby walks on the other side of me and I feel like a beauty queen as heads turn to see who we are as we walk by.
When Cameron excuses himself for a moment to say hello to someone, Colby leans into my side, brushing the hair away from my neck.

“Baby, I love you, but I have to tell you, I think you have some drool on your chin.” I reach up to brush whatever’s on my face away and slap him playfully when I realize he’s giving me a hard time. “Don’t worry, I get it. He’s a
good-looking guy. I think I need you to promise me you’re not going to run off and have his babies or anything.”

“Colby, you have got to be kidding me,” I say, offended by the implication that I would ever do anything of the sort. “There’s only one person--”

Colby cups my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. “Babe, I
am
kidding. What happened to the girl who knew me so well she rarely took anything I said seriously? Because I know I haven’t changed that much in the last two months.”

“I know, I guess I’m still tryin
g to get used to all of this.” I rest my hand on his chest, taking a few deep breaths to ground myself.

Cameron returns, leading us into the game room, which seems to be a hub of activity. Small groups are scattered throughout the room, carrying on their own conversations. Cameron takes time to introduce us to each group, informing everyone that Colby has just signed with Pete and will be getting in the studio very soon. The only way I know who the celebrities are in the group is the way Colby’s body tenses around me when certain names are mentioned. Other than the biggest names
that are all over television and Facebook, I really have no clue when it comes to country music. Certainly not enough to know faces or names without a song to go with them, but I keep that little bit to myself.

I’m swept away by a beautiful woman named April. Her husband, Gabe, plays
bass and according to her, it sounds like our men are going to be working together soon. Like Colby, Gabe has been doing set work, waiting for something better to come along. She whispers in my ear about different people as we make our way outside, letting me know which of the women I can trust and which ones are nasty, overprotective bitches when it comes to their men. I giggle when she comments how one wife’s boobs are at least two cup sizes bigger than they were at the last party. It’s catty and feels like gossip, but it’s also the type of thing that my friends and I would point out to one another at our parties back home.

The sun disappears beneath the horizon and more people come outside, where there’s a bonfire roaring at the back of the property line. I’m sitting with April and two other women now, watching as the men pass guitars around,
giving those of us who aren’t musically inclined an impromptu concert under the stars. Other than the fact that there are no fewer than four Grammy winners in our midst, it’s exactly the type of night Colby and I enjoyed as teens back at the farm with our friends.