A knock on the door interrupts us, and we break apart, laughing.
“Shit,” Grey mutters, scrubbing at his short punky hair. “We might have gotten a little carried away.”
“Just a little.”
Mia enters the room just as he sits back in the chair, but it’s evident from the look on her face that we’re completely busted. “Sorry to interrupt,” she says, “But the doctor’s going to come by in just a few. Also, Brooks asked to see you.”
Grey looks at me. “Want me to stay here while you talk to him?”
I shake my head. “No. I’ll take care of it. I promise.”
He nods. “Okay. Do you need anything? Real food? Change of clothes? What can I do?”
You can bar the door and climb back in this bed, I want to say. But I feel the toll those last few moments took on me. It’s scary to think how much harm I’ve done to myself while believing I was making perfectly sound choices.
“I don’t need anything,” I tell him. “Except maybe more gum.”
He laughs and heads for the door. “I’ll dig up a twelve-pack.”
My face hurts from smiling, and when I turn back, Mia’s beaming at me, her green eyes positively shining.
“So, that’s a thing now, huh?”
“Yeah,” I tell her. “I’m pretty sure it’s been a thing all along.”
“I’m pretty sure it has, too,” she says. “I’m glad, Sky. He’s crazy about you. And I like how he always asks about you. How he wants to care for you. I think you need that since you care for everyone else.”
I nod. But I know I have to do less of that anyway. Maybe I don’t have to be the yes-girl, after all. Maybe I can be the sometimes girl. The not-now girl.
“Hey, Mia,” I say.
“Yeah?”
“Tell Brooks I’ll see him now. And maybe give us a few.”
Her eyebrows pinch together. “You sure you want to tackle that right now, Sky? You’re still pretty worn out.”
I nod. “I know, but I’ll feel better if I just take care of it.”
“Okay,” she says. “I’ll go get him.”
She heads back to the hospital room door, and I straighten up in bed, smooth my gown and blankets over me. I take another sip of water and then fold my hands in my lap and wait for Brooks.
Chapter 41
Grey
Let me get this straight. You’re on your way to becoming a homeowner, you’re shedding your irresponsible, jackass persona, and settling down with a girl, but you’ve forgone your dream in the process?” Adam takes a sip of his beer and shakes his head. “I have to say, I’m not sure it’s a good trade.”
We’re walking on the beach on the hotel property. Skyler’s been released from the small island hospital and transferred back here. She’s up in her room sleeping right now. The rest of the crew left this morning. Only Mia, Garrett, Adam, and Alison, who came in a few days ago, are still on the island.
I take a sip of my beer, which is warm, as warm as the tropical air that’s tugging at my t-shirt and rustling through the palm trees, paving the way for a storm that’ll hit sometime tonight. “Yes to the homeowner and girl comments. As far as giving up my jackass persona, sorry to disappoint. And forgoing my dream? Postponing, more like.”
I knew what I was doing by coming here. Rez has sent Vogelson a few messages letting him know the situation, but the guy won’t even reply. Not surprising. We probably look irresponsible and like a terrible investment if we can’t even show up for the audition.
I’ve talked to each of the guys in the band. They’ve all been cool on the phone, but I know they’re probably hugely disappointed. In a way, it’s like we’re back to square one. But it doesn’t quite feel like square one. We’ve come together as a band over the past weeks. We’ve gained something. It has nothing to do with the showcase.
Earlier on the phone, Shane told me we’re an organism, with a heart and a mind and lungs and limbs. We need each other. We fail and succeed as one. I’d asked him, jokingly, if I was the organism’s asshole. Shane laughed and said, “Heart, dude. Heart, all the way.”
“Postponing,” Adam says. “Did Vogelson get back to Reznick?”
I smile. It still feels good to have my brother be “in” on my life again. “No. We haven’t heard anything.” I shrug. “I just meant we’ll figure out something else.”
Adam’s gaze moves across the water. I notice the tension in his jaw, the way he’s pursing his lips.
“Don’t tell me you feel responsible,” I say.
“Of course I do. I should’ve seen that we were asking too much of Skyler. You’ve been working toward the showcase your entire life.”
I laugh. “Wow. Drama. I think you’ve been hanging out with too many actors.”
Adam gives me a sidelong glance. I’m not telling him what he wants to hear. And I know he’s going to drive at me until I do.
“Okay. I’ll say it. It sucks, all right? I wanted that showcase. I thought it was going to be our break. But . . . I’m okay. I mean, I will be. We’ll find something else. Vogelson’s not the only producer out there. We’ll figure it out. And I had to be here for Sky. That was nonnegotiable.”
It’s hard to look him in the eye when I say that. It’s so new, this Skyler thing. It just feels like it’s all over my face, this blaring, over-the-top awesome feeling. “Besides,” I say, “if Vogelson backs out, then he’s an idiot because we are fucking great.”
Adam laughs. “And that, little bro, is exactly why I know it’s going to work out. There’s some serious confidence buzzing around you. It’s cool.”
“Thanks. Can we stop now? I can’t handle any more feelings.”
He laughs again. “Okay.” The skyline is black with clouds, except for the occasional flash of lightning. I’ve gotten used to Southern California. Weather—real weather—seems so flashy and dramatic. “Actually, there’s one more thing before we shut the feelings down. I’m going to ask Ali to marry me tonight.”
He reaches into his pocket and takes out a small velvet box, showing it to me.
“I had this whole thing planned. A private boat. Scuba. Dinner. I wanted to be out on the water with her when I asked, but . . .” He lifts his shoulders. “Storm. Anyway, I can’t wait any longer. I’m just going to drop to a knee and beg. Tell her anything she wants to hear, and hope she agrees to make me an honest man.”
This is the second-best thing I’ve heard in a long time. Second only to what Skyler said earlier. There were a lot of years I wondered if he’d ever marry again, after losing Chloe. But I knew it would lead to this with Ali. I think I knew right from the beginning. He was different with her from the start.
“So, assuming she says yes, will you be my best man?” he says.
“You’re not going to drop down on a knee and beg me?” I pull him into a hug. But there’s so much going on inside me, I have to rough him up a little and push him around, mess up his hair and try to trip him. He’s quick and manages to slip away.
As we make our way along the lighted path to the hotel, it’s like we’re in a horse race, the two of us almost breaking into a jog. I can’t stop smiling.
“What?” Adam says.
“I was just thinking . . . between Skyler and being your best man, I’m winning over Brooks. Hugely winning. I think I knocked him out of the game.”
“Jackass.”
“As advertised, bro. Always.”
I slip into Skyler’s hotel room quietly, stepping into the suite’s small sitting room. Mia is curled up like a cat on a chair, reading.
“How’s it going in here?” I was only outside with Adam for an hour, but I feel like I missed out. Like I was gone too long.
“Still asleep,” Mia says. She closes her book and stands. “It’s almost eight. I was going to order some food. Garrett said he wants to join, too.”
“Mia, why don’t you and Garrett go grab a bite at the restaurant? You haven’t left her side in days. And, no offense, but
it’s probably about time for you to rest up, shower, call Ethan . . . whatever it is Mia Galliano does with her spare time.”
She smiles. “Mia Galliano could definitely use a little break. And I know you’ll take good care of our girl.” She grabs her purse off the couch and casts a quick look toward the bedroom. “Sky’s got water and Gatorade in there, but when she wakes up, she’ll probably want some tea. Then probably something light to eat.”
“I’m on it. Look, text me if you’re worried. But don’t be worried. I’ve got it.”
“Okay. Thanks, Grey. You know, you’re really good for her.”
“So are you.”
We do a fist-bump and laugh. Team Skyler.
After she leaves, I let myself into the bedroom. I’m surprised to find the bed empty. The bathroom door is slightly ajar, and a shaft of light pours into the darkened bedroom. The shower turns on.
I step toward the door. “Skyler?” I knock, lightly. “You all right?”
“Grey?”
“Yeah. Just . . . just checking on you. Everything okay?”
“No.”
My heart stops.
“I mean, it would be, if you were in here with me.”
That blows my mind for a few seconds. Maybe it’s minutes. Or maybe time stops. Who knows?
I get it together and push the door open and there she is, a little hunched, because she’s still weak, standing under the spray of water, smiling. I’ve seen her naked before, but never in water, never standing, never waiting for me. Never like this. She’s beautiful. Crushingly, painfully beautiful.
Knowing what’s been going on, what she’s been through, I notice she’s thinned out. She’s less curvy. But she’s no less gorgeous than she was. I don’t think I could ever look at her and not find her beautiful. What I don’t like is the fragile slant of her shoulders. The wavering strength I see in her eyes.
I realize I’m standing here. But I don’t want to move. All I want to do is stare at her. Except that’s definitely, definitely not all I want to do.
I tug my shirt off. “Sky, are you sure?”
We’ve messed around before. We’ve texted a thousand times every day. I’ve written a song for her. Two, technically. I’m pretty sure she’s my best friend and that I’m gone for her. But it still feels like this . . . where we’re going . . . what’s about to happen . . . it still feels like something that’s too good to be true.
She nods. “I think I’ve been sure for a long time. Maybe since our first audition, when you told me I’m good at fake kissing.”
I step out of the rest of my clothes. “Why the hell did you wait so long to tell me?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I wanted you captive when I did it?”
I step into the shower and wrap my arms around her. Try not to pass out at how good she feels against me. Insanely good. Or to laugh at how obvious it is that I am ready to go. “You’ve got me, Skyler, beautiful Skyler. Now what? Should we talk music?”
“I think we can save the talking for later.” She rolls up on her toes, wrapping her arms around my neck. “You are very tall.”
I lean closer. “You’re short.”
She blinks, slow and sultry, her gaze warm, like she can see into my soul. “Your eyes, Grey.”
“Your everything, Sky.”
Then I bend a little lower and kiss her.
Chapter 42
Skyler
This is an even better kiss than the one in the hospital, all sweetness and heat, the steam from the water enveloping us, his firm, towering body pressed against me. His hands brace my back and neck, and it feels like I could fall into them, trust him to buoy me. His lips and mine—it’s like music, the perfect tempo, the perfect balance of give and take, high notes and low.
His tongue traces my lips, sweeping over me, light, almost tickling, building this yearning to take him into me, his tongue, his fingers—all of him. I move my hands up to his neck, the spray from the shower going everywhere, and I deepen the kiss, wanting to dive in and taste every bit of him, touch every inch of his slick, beautiful body.
“Sky, I may not survive this shower,” he murmurs against my lips. He kisses the side of my face, then, hands firm on my back, he runs his hot darting tongue along the hollow of my throat, his teeth grazing my collarbone, tasting me. His mouth on my skin is perfection, and he’s so hard, pressed against me, it literally makes me breathless, creates a caving ripple inside, a need like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I want him so much, but I can barely hold on to his broad shoulders and massive triceps, so slick from water, and my legs start to tremble.
“Grey?”
“Hmm . . .” He bends me back, and his tongue is everywhere now—on my throat, my lips, the delicate skin beneath my ear. His breath is hot against me; the warm water swirls around us, and it’s all so electric, so pure and good, I don’t know what to do with myself.
My knee buckles a little, reminding me that I don’t want to go down in a heap in a shower. And I want more from this. Want to touch Grey, to taste him, to have to every part of him close.
“Let’s lie down,” I say. Looking into his beautiful lucent eyes, almost silver in this light, the color of raindrops shimmering on a window, I want to drink him in forever, spend hours exploring the lines of his body, taking his strength into me, giving him mine.
“Okay,” he says. “Whatever you want.”
We turn off the shower and step out, wrapping ourselves in the plush white towels warmed by the heating bar. It’s pretty decadent, but we only enjoy it for a few seconds before we move toward one another again, as if propelled, the force between us so strong.
He sweeps me against him to kiss me again, crushing me to him, all of him wrapped around me. Then he lifts me, like I’m nothing, and I wrap my arms around his neck, my legs around his hips, the towel parting across my thighs. I tease his ear with my tongue, telling him things I’ve never told anyone, about how I want to make him feel, what I want to do to him.
He groans and staggers a little, and we laugh while he carries me to the bed, the two of us still half wet, as he sets me down atop the plush linens. I sit on the edge and reach for him, running my hands along his rock-hard thighs, my fingers trailing beneath the towel, finding his warmth, his hardness, touching him, now, the way I’ve wanted to touch him.
I look up at him, at his sweet, serious face. His eyes are slitted but sparkling, his mouth parted with the pleasure of it, with my touch making him feel good now. My turn to give him back some of what he’s given me.
His breath comes hard, and his fingers move into the wet strands of my hair, stroking it. “Sky, you’re . . . This is . . .”
I tug the towel away and pull him down onto the bed. Laughing, we move together to the center, throwing pillows out of the way, tossing the heavy comforter to some corner. He parts my towel, and his eyes on me, on my body, the pleasure I see there, tells me everything.
“You’re amazing.”
“That’s you,” I tell him. And it is. His corded muscles, the ripples of his abs, the broad, broad expanse of his chest, his smooth tan skin, the lines and shadows of him. All perfect and beautiful and all mine right now. All mine to taste and touch, which I do.
We kiss and kiss some more, me sinking into him, him sinking into me, tongues and lips and sounds, all so hot and perfect. We breathe into each other, tasting each other. We talk and laugh and kiss and kiss until I’m drunk on him, spinning, and his lips move away to trail down along my body, his fingers following.
He leans over me and sucks first one nipple and then the other into his mouth, slowly, teasingly, firming his hands over my breasts, his thumbs circling, and again so perfect, like he was designed only to make me feel good. Like that’s his mission.
“Tell me what you like,” he says in a hoarse whisper. “I want you to feel good, Sky. Tell me how to make you feel good.”
“You do, Grey. You are.”
“What els
e?” he insists. “What else do you like?” His fingers move down along my body, tracing over my lower belly, plunging farther down. My breath hitches as his warm fingertips close over me, and I rise to his touch.
“This?” he asks, looking up at me, his fingers moving, plunging. His gray eyes pierce me. “Like this?”
“Yes,” I say, though it’s barely a whisper. He feels so good, and his eyes on me—it’s so much. So much sweetness. So much pleasure. So good it almost tips into pain, into the best kind of ache. “Like that, Grey. Just . . .”
He touches me over and over, and his lips move over my body, over my belly, up to my breasts, his tongue making hot circles, his mouth and teeth and tongue everywhere, and we’re kissing, and his fingers are moving, moving over me, and it’s good. So, so good. I’m trembling under him, this hot spark flaring to life within me, igniting where his fingers move against me, igniting and sparking and flowing out like a wildfire, searing across my body. We’re kissing and kissing, and my body trembles against his hand, all of me reaching for that place, that place of heat and light and sharpness.
And then it comes, lashing through me, so hot and intense that I cry out against Grey’s soft sweet lips, still pressed to me. And he groans, too, the two of us locked together, this fever burning through me, rippling on and on from a deep sharp pit that unknots and seems to flow outward forever.
Words come from me, and from him, but I can’t make sense of them, can’t make sense of anything but this beautiful, perfect connection, his hands, his fingers and lips, his sweetness pouring over me, his need. And my own need. My need for more of him. To have all of him.
I push him gently onto his back on the bed. And he smiles, this gorgeous, avid, lazy smile. Smug and adorable because he knows what’s coming next. He knows I want him to feel even a tenth of what he makes me feel.
Out of nowhere, he produces a condom and gives me a wink. “Extra magnum,” he says, which makes me laugh so hard while we put it on him together.
I climb onto him, feeling like a feather against the solidity of him. He’s slick from the shower, still gives off waves of sweet-smelling heat. I straddle his hips and run my fingers along his pecs, stroking the muscles of his arms, his torso, bending over him to tease my tongue over his smooth flesh, to taste him. I graze my teeth over him, and he groans and grabs hold of my waist, tugging me down, his hips rising beneath me.
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