Playing Autumn (Breathe Rockstar Romance Book 1)

by Mina V. Esguerra

  “You mean as a musician,” Haley said.

  He smiled. “Of course.” And then he looked down at his guitar, fingers slowing down again, and then she realized that he was playing with the arrangement. He had been improvising, and that was why she couldn't place it.

  “I know what that is,” she gasped.

  Chapter 20

  Oliver was hoping she would recognize it. He had been sitting in his room for the better part of the evening, holding Cornelia, waiting for something. His fingers started moving, as they usually did when he lay in bed with his guitar. It was a habit, usually how he warmed up while his brain searched for a new song, but this one triggered a memory.

  When he was in Tomorrow’s Talent, he was simply one precocious music geek among a dozen others. And then, one episode, he followed his mom's advice and played something he had learned when he was younger. He chose Autumn from Antonio Vivaldi's The Four Seasons on violin. That it went well was an understatement. He got a standing ovation, became the subject of water cooler discussions across the world, and started getting fan mail from proud mothers. That performance turned things around for him.

  Haley had played it too, in one of her videos. He hadn't made the connection because he was fixated on the songs she had covered that he had personally written, but she did a stellar take on it. He had seen it several times (one could not watch a Hot Piano Girl video just once) and tried to recreate it. It took a few tries.

  What had brought on this memory?

  Victoria found him that evening and gave him her best stern-teacher face. He was flying high though; the “conversation” with Trey tickled more than distressed him, and Kari and John were in good spirits after their performance. He was smug and feeling like he was getting his bearings back.

  “You can do whatever you want, I promise,” she told him, “I’m not going around rapping people’s wrists or anything. I thought Haley’d gotten you out of her system after your Orlando show, but don’t be too much of a distraction, okay?”

  “What Orlando show?” he said.

  Victoria coughed. “Nothing. God, I’m so tired.”

  Haley had been to his last big show. She hadn’t said anything.

  What was there to say though? Orlando was when he thought he was getting his career back. If he knew then that it would be the last show of the tour because of the cancellations, he would have done something he really wanted with that set. He would have changed it and played the songs he wanted to be remembered for.

  So he started thinking about the songs he wanted to be remembered for.

  It so happened that he got the arrangement, right when he happened to be in front of her, and everything about her—her shampoo, her legs, the fact that she was barely clothed—was assaulting his senses. He would have continued playing, but she had left her seat and he knew he had to put Cornelia aside as soon as possible.

  Just a kiss, he said, but not aloud, because he knew it was a lie and he lied to himself a lot anyway. As she fell and dragged him to the bed, her bare shoulder emerged from beneath the thick blue robe and he sucked in his breath, getting confirmation that she was wearing nothing underneath. His mouth went for that shoulder, leaving a wet imprint on the smooth skin with his tongue. Still a kiss. Not exactly a liar.

  As his mouth moved closer to her neck, she giggled, softly, and used a hand to push the robe down the other shoulder. The flimsy article of clothing unraveled in an instant, revealing more of her with each staggered breath. Her breasts peeked out of the robe. He wasted no time and cupped one, holding it with care as his hand curved under it, and put a rosy nipple in his mouth.

  She made that sound again, the gasp that turned into sighs, each time he teased the bud with his tongue.

  “This is how you sleep?” he said after a strangled curse. “You're going to make the rest of the weekend hell for me. Knowing this is on the other side of the wall. Did you want my tongue on the other one, too? Is that what you want?”

  “God, do you overthink this, too?”

  He did overthink this. He had spent the day overthinking this one thing, wondering how being on her, beside her, inside her would feel. But he remembered to be a gentleman about it and decided that he was not going to pass through her life and raze everything to the ground.

  Unless she wanted razing.

  He had to ask.

  ***

  “Are you sure about this?” he was saying. They were words, but they were also delicious rumbles against her neck, and he had to repeat them before she realized that he needed an answer. And then she didn't reply instantly.

  Sure about what? About the literal disrobing for him, for Oliver Cabrera, the same one from her fantasies from back when she learned how to fantasize? About the wisdom of doing this with someone she met yesterday? Someone who wouldn't be around next weekend?

  She was beyond that. But despite what they thought they knew about each other, he wouldn't have guessed that about her. That when she told Logan that it was over, it was over. That when she decided to make a life out of music, she didn't hesitate to pack up and leave to do it. He wouldn't have known that she had decided on this as soon as she had opened the door for him, and all he needed to do was step inside.

  “Are you sure about this?” she said instead, hands leaving his back so she could cradle his jaw. She found herself looking into familiar dark eyes that for the first time were looking back at her. “I've had you in my head for a long time, longer than you probably realize. I know what I'm getting into. You, I don't think so.”

  He frowned, pulling back to look at her. “Because?”

  “You don't really know me.”

  He shifted, leaning on his side, freeing his hand so he could take one of hers. He nipped at her knuckles and turned it around to nibble at her open palm. “And you've been in my head too, whether you believe it or not,” Oliver said.

  “I don't believe it,” Haley said.

  “You will,” Oliver said. “You recognized what I played. When we're done tonight you'll think about that, how I could have possibly known that particular arrangement, and it'll occur to you that I know it from memory. Because I've had you in my head for a long time, Haley.”

  It was like a song almost, the way he said it back to her, how her words transformed when they came out of his mouth. “It's not the same thing. It can't be.”

  “That's your problem, not mine. I'm sure. I went out after the meeting and got calamine and condoms. I have three in my pocket right now.” And then his hand pushed hers back against the mattress, his lips moving down one breast to the other. “Do you want me to stop?”

  God, those lips. Hovering, teasing her skin, with a softness that was a stark contrast to the rough ridges of his musician's fingers. Her body didn't care about the difference.

  “No,” Haley conceded. She still didn't believe him, not that part about him thinking about her, ever, but she could grill him about that later. “No, don't stop.”

  “I’m good with instructions, no matter what anyone else says,” Oliver said, his mouth already on her other breast. Haley closed her eyes and only felt it when he lightly bit and sucked on the soft skin before closing in on the nipple. Even more nerves came alive not just there, but down her back and up her neck, and she clasped both hands over her mouth to keep the moan inside.

  “I want to hear you,” he said, regrettably having to stop the sweet torture on her skin to do it.

  “I don’t want the rest of the hotel to hear me.”

  “Make sure it’s just for me then.”

  Haley wasn’t sure she could manage that. She was shaking her head as a response as he straightened up and removed his shirt, exposing the lean muscle underneath to her touch. She wanted those arms around her, those shoulders right where she could lay her chin on them, smell them, taste them, but he eased himself down and parted the lower half of her robe.

  “I wonder if you’re ready,” he said, and he didn’t have to wonder as he thrust his tongue inside
her, and then licked up, toward her already-throbbing clit. She needed to hang on to something, one hand finding his hair, the other a fistful of the discarded robe.

  When a teasing finger slipped inside, she pulled at the robe as hard as she could to displace the moan that was going to tear out of her. “I’m ready, I’m ready, what else do you want—”

  To his credit, he was quick about this. She felt a draft of air as he let go of her and took off his shorts, reaching for something in its pocket. She watched him, eyes burning, as he held his thick erection in his hand and slipped a condom over it. She wanted to touch it, hold it in her hand, but before she knew it he had lifted her up and it was right there at her entrance.

  It looked like he was about to ask if she wanted him that way, and she didn’t want to have to discuss further because yes, this was how, this was the time, and she eased herself up and then sank into him, taking him as deep as he could go.

  “Fuck,” she gasped, right into his ear.

  He laughed, brushing the hair out of her eyes, and every movement stretched her around him. “That’s the idea.”

  “You feel good,” she said. “I’m sorry, it’s—it’s true.”

  His hands went to her hips and held her as he pumped up, even deeper. “So tight, Haley. I feel you pulsing around me.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  “I wouldn’t want you to.”

  She could feel each stroke, felt him slowly, deliciously impaling her, but she wanted more—needed more. Haley pushed her hips against his thrusts and moaned at how the new angle gave her more to feel, and she rewarded herself with this discovery by wrapping her legs around him and doing it again. And again.

  “God, Haley, keep doing that, fuck—”

  She was riding him, she realized, and her hips moved faster, finding that friction, feeling that throbbing inside her, and he pumped up harder to meet her wherever she was planning to go. She was breathless, and lightheaded, but he felt so good, so fucking better than anything. Her hips worked harder until finally, almost as a surprise, she came with a shudder, panting breathlessly, hanging on to those shoulders for dear life.

  “Haley. God. I’m almost—” And then he allowed himself to let go, several strokes later, his body quietly, violently shaking as he came inside the condom, inside her.

  She hung on to him like this, relishing the sound of his breathing.

  Chapter 21

  Saturday

  Oliver began to understand why he had so few friends as a teenager. It was hard to inflict this kind of irritable “genius” onto the world and expect to be liked. Or understood even. If he had been in these students' shoes, he would be on his own case, asking, “So what was your last hit again?”

  What was making the experience bearable, exciting even, was that Kari and John were now willing to listen to him. Last night he had told them that they should go for Bon Jovi if they wanted to. He’d be willing to help them, and they’d turn out something as unexpected as their Hot N Cold. They’d be the talk of the festival. The siblings were stoked. Mr. Bolton had come up behind him as they discussed this, offering a nod and a fist bump, and Oliver was fine with that simple acknowledgement. It was all he needed.

  He couldn't do this though, for real. It was going to be depressing.

  At breakfast, Victoria dropped by his table, looking friendlier than the last time they saw each other.

  “So, Cabrera, your kids did great last night,” she said. “I'm sorry about being a pain about the other things. Do whatever you're doing. Don't let my stress cramp your style.”

  It was nice of her to apologize, but Oliver was surprised that she did it anyway. Then he remembered that this was how people were back home. Nicer. He had forgotten how certain courtesies were expected, even if they were never demanded. “I'm sure your way gets things done around here. Don't worry about me.”

  “I know, but I have to remember that you're all artists, and shit. You all love this, and why think that anyone's less dedicated than anyone else? Or that you’ll all respond to the same kind of discipline.” She plopped down on the empty seat beside him and glanced around, her ponytail swishing around with her head. “But that’s not all we have to talk about. Do I have to warn you about my friend? Or warn my friend about you?”

  Oliver wondered what Victoria would say about Haley that he would consider a fair warning and bring him down from the high of last night.

  “I'm a good guy, I promise,” Oliver said. “And you can ask my grandmother, she’ll tell you how good I am.”

  The corner of Victoria's mouth curved up. “Right, use the grandmother card again.”

  “What's the deal with Logan though?” he said. “The way Haley talks about him, they're over. But it’s not over?”

  Victoria frowned a little and gave him a look. “I don't know what to tell you.”

  “He's either a jerk, or not a jerk. I need confirmation of one or the other.”

  “No, you don't get it,” she said, sighing. “Logan is...he's been the guy for her. If you knew her long enough, you might be happy if they end up together.”

  “So people are okay with the cheating, then.”

  “She told you about that? Well, yes, some people might be okay with that. If you're the kind of person who thinks that Logan growing up is the only thing that has to happen to make this all come together.”

  What a strange set of circumstances for people to consider better for someone. Was it because they were rooted to this place and had to make the best of it? He hadn’t thought that way in…ever. There was always an escape hatch somewhere, he knew. “So everyone means well, but they don't think that she deserves better.”

  Victoria smiled and patted his head like he was a hamster. “What would be 'better'? That she join the dating circus again? That she be your groupie for a weekend?”

  “I was beginning to think you were on my side on this.”

  “Oh, I'm on my friend's side, if there are sides,” Victoria said. “I know she doesn't want Logan back, and I think taking him back is stupid. But I don't know, maybe there's a stupider decision?”

  “You invited me here,” Oliver said, confused all of a sudden.

  “I invite you every year because she loves your music, and I thought it would make her happy. I didn’t think that Logan would be planning to make a move. Didn’t think she’d lose her job this weekend too. So yeah. That's the situation. It could get messed up.”

  Sounded exactly like the thing he told himself not to do to her life. “You have a point there.”

  “I'm only saying it because it might not mean anything to you. You have to know what's happening, what's going to happen when you leave.”

  “When she leaves. She's leaving too.”

  “Yeah, but this is home. She's always going to be able to come back here.”

  Or they were always planning on welcoming her back, once she gave up on whatever path she was on. Oliver knew the feeling. It was easier on him, probably, because home was no longer a city or an address to him, but for a second he knew what Haley was afraid of. He at least had no such safety net, no chorus telling him not to fly out so far. He fell harder, sure, but he probably had more fun. Sometimes that was comforting.

  “Apart from that,” Victoria said, changing her tone, “You seem to have gotten through to the Ball siblings. A little bit. I don’t think they’ll survive as a brother-sister act for very long though.”

  “I think this weekend’s making that clear to both of them.”

  “That’s what I’m here for. Clarity.” She smiled and scanned the room, probably deciding which fire to put out next.

  Victoria was a good friend.

  ***

  “That’s not going to work.”

  “Maybe we need to adjust the—”

  “No, I’ve heard you, and I’m telling you that it’s not going to work.”

  This was what Oliver happened to hear when he entered the practice room that he was still sharing with Trey.
Kari and John were set up for rehearsals but were already getting the lecture.

  “Oliver’s helping us out on this,” Kari said, her voice getting louder as she saw him approach.

  “It doesn’t matter if he’s helping you or not,” Trey said, “It doesn’t sound good. At all.”

  Oliver needed more coffee if he was going to have to deal with this. Or something stronger.

  “Is there a problem?” he asked, hating that he sounded like an older brother trying to get everyone in line. “Leave them alone, Trey.”

  Trey looked at him square in the face and then took a deep breath. “Fine,” he said, his tone strangely low. “I was simply giving them my professional opinion, but you do what you want. They’re your students.” He faced the other corner of the room where his student was, turning his back on the others. “Ash, I couldn’t hear you at all—you let your nerves get to you. You didn’t do any of my relaxation techniques?”

  “Relaxation techniques,” Oliver muttered. “I think everyone knows how to breathe,” he said louder. “No need to teach them. Look, this is what John wants to do today, and Kari is going to be supporting him.”

  Trey’s shoulders went up and the “relaxed” voice turned up a notch higher. “It’s a waste of precious time in front of important people. Trust me on this.”

  “We kind of want to do it Oliver’s way,” Kari said.

  “Of course you want to do it his way, he’s telling you what you want to hear.”

  Oliver’s lungs flared, that old familiar surge of adrenaline kicking in. This kid was kidding, right? Trey couldn’t possibly know what he was doing.

  “What are you saying, Lewis?” Oliver said. He reached for the chair nearest him and gripped it to keep himself anchored to something. “Not everyone wants to be a copy of you.”

  “And no one wants to end up like you, Cabrera.”