My Soul To Keep (Soul Series Book 1) (16 page)

“One girlfriend
ever
?” I buckle in and wait for him to do the same.

“Yeah, I was seventeen, and she cheated on me, like Carrie cheated on Aiden.”

“I knew you were watching!” I point an I-told-you-so finger at him. “Admit it. You loved
Sex and the City
.”

“Love is a strong word.” Rhyson rolls his eyes. “But Carrie did Aiden dirty, and that whole thing with Big was just a train wreck.”

“So, is that what happened with you and her? A train wreck?”

“She cheated with a supposed friend of mine, so it was kind of a train wreck.” Rhyson shrugs. “I don’t know that I was even really that hurt. Our parents wanted us together. It was just . . . messy. That was enough for me. I decided I just wanted to fuck, and I’ve never looked back.”

He challenges me with that look that reminds me that if all I want is to be one of the boys, he’ll talk to me like one. I prefer his frankness though. It’s one of the things I love about our tenuous arrangement.

“I’m just surprised, I guess, that there hasn’t been anyone you’ve wanted more with,” I say as we settle into our seats.

“Believe me, most girls are fine with just fucking as long as they get what they want.”

“And what do they want?”

“Damned if I know.” He adjusts the helmet on his head and turns a few knobs before giving me one last grin and gunning the engine. “Apparently just to sleep with a rock star since that’s all they ever get from me.”

Anger stirs in my chest and tightens my lips. I’d like to meet all these girls who were fine with “just fucking” Rhyson. Who are these nameless, faceless bimbos who have jaded him so much? And who was the adolescent idiot who at seventeen made him feel this was all he needed? If he did get off that leash, is that all he would want from me?

“Hey, you gonna fall asleep on me again?” Rhyson raises his voice over the revving engine, jarring me from my wayward thoughts.

“No. Sorry.”

“I’ll forgive you if you say yes to what I’m about to ask.”

I wasn’t born yesterday at ten o’clock. I’d never agree to anything Rhyson proposes sight unseen.

“Yes to what?”

“Yes, you’ll go with me to a birthday party next week when I get back from New York.”

“We’ll have to see about . . .” I frown as I process two things at once. “When do you leave for New York?”

“Wednesday. I’m there for a few days. I’m doing Fallon and some more session stuff for the new album.” The look he gives me is half teasing, half earnest. “You gonna miss me when I’m gone?”

“Sure.” I grin at him. “You think I
like
taking the bus?”

“Nice. That’s all I’m good for, huh? Transportation?”

“Girl’s gotta get around.”

“So will you come or not?” he persists. “It’s a private party. Just some friends at a bowling alley.”

I never know what Rhyson’s up to. This party at a bowling alley with “just some friends” has me intrigued.

“We’ll see.” I brace my hands against the dashboard as if ready for a crash. “Now are we gonna chew the fat all day, or you gonna drive this thing?”

My curiosity, my worries about medical bills, my fatigue from working like an indentured servant, all blow back and off my shoulders once we’re speeding across this vast stretch of sand butting up against the ocean. My stomach rises and falls when Rhyson races over hills. The Pacific, the sand, the birds meandering over the horizon—it’s all a beautiful blur zipping by. The only thing in clear focus is Rhyson and me in this niche of space and time, sailing over dunes.

And joy! This joy starts as a kernel in some long-neglected corner of my heart, and it burgeons with every second of freedom this ride offers. Before I know it, a laugh breaks free from my chest and spills all around us. My arms stretch wide and high over my head. Even though I’m strapped in, I’m flying. I’m propelled by this great joy forward, up, high! And Rhyson is right there with me, laughing and throwing his head back, as free as I am.

How long we ride, I don’t care and I don’t know. How long will I remember this gorgeous day with this gorgeous man? And this rediscovered joy that I thought maybe was lost?

Forever. I’ll remember it all forever.

“PLEASE TELL ME THAT ISN’T BREAKFAST.”

San’s comment pulls my attention from the bowl of green goop I’m mixing on the counter.

“Hardy har har.” I crease my quick grin with sarcasm. “This is my avocado face mask. You actually could eat it though. You got your avocado, honey, oatmeal, vinegar, and lemon juice. Yum-my.”

“If you say so.” San looks from me to the bowl of goop. “You are planning to eat something though, right?”

He knows I’ve been doing better. I’ve been eating better and feeling better, but his concern lingers.

“You gotta eat, Kai.”

“Yeah, and I will in a minute. Stop worrying so much about me. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s homemade spa time.”

I head to my bedroom, scoop my hair up into two loop ponytails high on either side of my head, and spread the avocado mask onto my face. I chill in my Partridge Family nightshirt, flipping through the latest
LUCKY
magazine while the mask hardens.

“Kai, your phone’s ringing,” San calls from the front room. “R. Geritol calling.”

I’m up and off the bed before I’ve blinked twice, sprinting to the kitchen and snatching up my phone from the counter. Rhyson’s face is onscreen in FaceTime mode.

“Kai, you’ve still got the . . .” San trails off with a small smile. “Never mind.”

“Hi, Rhys.” I walk with the phone back into my bedroom. He’s been in New York for a few days, and it’s so good to see his smile, even if it is on a tiny screen.

“Um . . . Kai?” Rhyson stands outside on a sidewalk, a grin taking up half his face. “What’s that all over your . . . ?”

He circles his face with a finger, and I glance into the corner of the screen and screech like a banshee when my green face stares back at me from the tiny block.

“Oh, God. Let me wash this off.”

“No way. I only have a few minutes.”

“Rhys, do you honestly expect me to have this conversation wearing an avocado mask?”

“I honestly do. You look really cute.”

“Yeah, to aliens. I’m probably excreting extraterrestrial pheromones.”

“Call me ET.” He laughs at his own corny joke. “Cut me some slack. My day has been nonstop, and I’m exhausted. I really do only have a few minutes, so leave the mask for the sake of time.”

I groan and settle onto the edge of the bed, my cheeks burning with a blush that probably headlights through the green goop.

“Look where I am.” He repositions the phone up so I see the sign behind and above him.

“Southern Hospitality, huh?” I think of my salad waiting in the fridge, and my stomach protests with a growl. “Isn’t that Justin Timberlake’s spot?”

“Sure is. Made me think of you.” Rhys grins back into the screen and walks into the restaurant. He flicks his chin up at someone in greeting before following them to a back corner and settling into an empty leather-seated booth. “My band is here already at another table, so I gotta go soon. The bass player insisted we try this place.”

If there was a speedometer on my heart, it would be popping and sputtering right now. The poor thing tom toms in my chest the longer I look at Rhyson. He holds the phone with one hand and takes off his newsboy cap with the other, spilling his hair over his forehead and ears.

“How’s New York?” I finally ask to keep myself from drooling.

“Fucking freezing.” Rhys peels the scarf away from his neck and lays the phone on the table, peering down at me, offering a reverse aerial view of his face. “And so busy. I had the
GQ
shoot this morning, a session right after. We’re eating lunch and then prepping for Fallon this evening.”

“Poor baby with the rock star lifestyle.”

“You shut it. Posing and looking badass is hard work.”

“Oh, I’m so sure. Sounds like fun.”

“It has been. I like it here. New Yorkers are so jaded they barely blink when they see me. It’s awesome. I haven’t used a disguise once. I have a small security detail, but I’m walking around pretty freely.”

“Would you ever think of moving there?”

“Oh, I thought you knew.” He raises both brows and runs a hand through all that beautiful, sloppy hair. “I have a place here. An apartment.”

“Oh. Of course.”

“I just don’t come out here much.” Rhyson’s expression hardens almost undetectably, like the mask on my face. “My parents are in New York, so . . . I mean, they aren’t in the city, but still.”

“I get that. I’m assuming you won’t see them while you’re there?”

“No, but they’ve been trying to get me to come home for Christmas.”

“You should. It’s been how long since you saw them?”

“A few years. I doubt if they miss me. They have a steady stream of income from my old royalties. That’s all they need from me, I think.”

“You sound so cynical. I know they went about everything the wrong way. I hate that, but I’m sure they miss you.”

He gives a quick shake of his head, dismissing my comment and the subject.

“Let’s talk about something else. I have a question for you. This is a serious question and requires a serious response.”

“Oh, boy. Shoot.”

Rhyson waits an extra beat, his eyes darkening and intensifying as he bites his bottom lip.

“It’s okay for friends to miss each other, right?”

I take a deep breath, staring into his serious eyes and nodding.

“Good, ‘cause I miss you, Pep.” His rich voice deepens over the words. “I miss you a lot. I wish you were here with me.”

“Rhyson—”

“Kai.” He imitates the higher pitch of my voice and drags the name out with my Southern drawl. Despite the teasing voice, his eyes remain earnest. “Do you miss
me
?”

Yes. Yes, I really, really do. I didn’t realize how much I’ve come to love the texts during the day, the rides home, the long talks over lunch or dinner until he went to New York. I can’t say all of that. I’m the one who said just friends, and that would sound like . . . more. So I settle for a simple truth that will not make things more complicated.

“Yes.”

“Good.” A smile creases his lean cheeks. “So you’ll go to my friend’s birthday party when I get back? The one I told you about?”

“Um . . . I have to check my work schedule. You know my life is all over the place.”

“Everyone deserves a little time off, Pep. Even you.”

His eyes, nimbus-grey, like clouds before a storm, make everything hazy and humid, like he’s right beside me, pressing his lean, muscled body into mine. The longer we hold that look without speaking, the more we say.

I miss you.

I want you.

I wish you were here.

I snip the hot thread between us stretching from coast to coast with my words.

“I’ll take it under advisement, Mr. Gray.”

He glances up, smiles, and reaches to fist bump someone I can’t see, before returning his glance to the screen.

“You do that,” he says. “Make sure you watch me on Fallon tonight.”

“I’ll have to DVR it. I have to work, and I’m closing.”

“You should probably watch since I’m gonna shout you out.”

“You will not. Rhyson Gray, if you—”

“Untwist your panties. Nobody but us will know. I’ll tug on my ear twice, which means, ‘Hey, Pep. What’s up?’”

“You’re ridiculous.” I try to hold onto my sensibilities, but it’s like holding my breath. I can only do it for so long.

“Hey. I gotta go. Our table’s ready. Bye.”

“Okay.

“Watch tonight.”

After we disconnect, I sit on the edge of my bed with the phone dark and quiet in my lap. What am I going to do about this thing between Rhys and me? I can lie to him, but I’ve never been one to lie to myself. He’s wanted more than friendship from the beginning. He settled for less, but I know he’s not that guy. He’s the guy you only deny for so long before you give him exactly what he wants.

And Rhyson wants me.

God, I want him too, but I didn’t delay my dreams for five years to come out to L.A. and be some rock star’s plus one.

“All done?” Santos leans one shoulder against the doorframe.

“Yeah. Thanks for the heads up about the mask, by the way.”