I leaned forward, bringing my face to his.
"I can do it in under thirty seconds," I whispered.
A familiar heat flashed in his eyes. "Now you've got to prove it to me."
"The game is called Two Truths and a Lie, not Truth or Dare," I countered. "If you wanted to see me naked, you should have chosen a different game."
"Remind me to suggest strip poker next time." He blew out a calming breath and tossed back a swig of rum before continuing. "I once had sex with a set of twins. I've never eaten a hot dog. I'm afraid of needles."
"There's no way you haven't eaten a hot dog," I said. "And I have no doubt you've had sex with twins before. But I can't imagine you being afraid of needles. That one's a lie."
"It's true. Now take your drink," he reminded me, and I did. It went down smoother the second time, but still burned my throat.
"Which one's the lie?" I asked, still grimacing.
"I didn't have sex with a set of twins." He waited a beat. "They were triplets."
"Of course they were," I said. "So the hot dog thing?"
"When I was young, one of the first porn clips I ever saw featured a hot dog—"
"Stop!" I clapped a hand over his mouth. "I don't need to know."
"It traumatized me," he said, his voice muffled under my palm. I removed it.
"So the needle thing is true? You don't seem like a scaredy-cat," I teased. I'd long since lost my fear of needles. I'd been stuck and pricked so many times it was a routine thing by now.
"Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell anyone else?" he said quietly.
"Of course," I said.
"I hate needles," he said. "I especially hate watching other people get them. It's just… too many bad memories." Nathan inhaled slowly and let it out through his nose, before continuing.
"My mom had cancer."
Oh no. I reached out to take his hand, my fingers squeezing against his.
"I'm so sorry," I said.
"That's why I had to take care of things when I was a kid. And now she's back in the hospital. She's been having some similar symptoms again. They're doing a bunch of tests, keeping her under their watch to manage the symptoms if they get worse, just in case. The doctors say it's probably nothing serious. But…" He flicked his gaze to mine, his deep blue eyes full of heartache. "I'm still scared."
I clasped his hand to my chest.
"It's okay to be scared," I said.
"She's already had to go through chemo twice," he said. "If she has to go through it a third time… fuck." He rubbed his face with a hand, exhaling deeply. "I don't know what'll happen if she has to go through it again. I don't even want to think about it."
"So that's why you've been at the hospital so much?"
"Yeah."
I suddenly had a thought.
"Does Gael know?"
Nathan went quiet for a moment.
"No. I haven't told him. I haven't told anyone."
"He's your best friend. I'm sure he'd want to know. To give you support."
"I don't want them to worry. They need to be concentrating on the album right now."
My heart ached for Nathan.
"You know you can talk to me about anything," I told him. "If you're ever scared, or worried, or just want to yell at the world, I'm here for you."
"I know you are," he said, squeezing my hand back. "And I'm here for you. If you ever want to vent or cry or throw plates against walls."
"Is that another one of your extreme sports?" I asked. "Extreme plate throwing?"
He chuckled and my heart lifted.
"Anyway," he said. "Your turn."
Nathan still looked vaguely upset. I needed to turn the conversation back around.
"My favorite position is also doggie style," I began.
"I'm praying to god that's true," Nathan jumped in.
"I don't own a single pair of heels. And…" I waited a moment, considering whether or not to say it.
Nathan had confessed something real to me.
I continued. "I wish my parents would divorce instead of dragging out their failed marriage."
Nathan's eyes went wide. "I hope that's the lie."
"It's true," I said. "That's one of the reasons why I moved out into the basement. I couldn't take their passive aggressive bullshit anymore."
"I'm sorry." Nathan scooted closer, pressing himself to my side. "That has to be a shitty situation to live with."
"It didn't used to be that way. I remember happier times. Things only started to change when—"
Nathan cocked his head when I stopped. "When what?"
I decided to go with a half-truth. Appropriate for the game we were playing. Nathan had already had to deal with a lot of shit in his life already. I didn't need to add to that.
"I was sick as a kid. A lot. It caused tension between my parents. They tried to hide it from me, but I could tell something was wrong. Things just got worse as I got older. I thought they might finally divorce when I finished high school. That whole, keep it together for the kids thing. But they're still together and every day is like waiting for another bomb to drop. Always wondering, what's going to set them off this time? They're still worried about how a divorce might affect me but they don't get that seeing them like this is even worse. I wish I could just move out on my own and leave the whole situation behind."
"Why don't you?" Nathan asked.
I choked back a derisive laugh. "It was hard enough getting them to agree for me to live in the basement."
"I know you said your parents were overprotective, but it sounds like they're being unreasonable," he said quietly.
I made a soft noise, not wanting to disagree. Despite how much I hated it, I knew my parents were probably right. Living on my own might not have been the best idea. For someone like me, it was safer to be at home.
"So which one's the lie?" Nathan asked. "Do you actually own a million pairs of heels?"
"Nope. Not a single pair."
He made a disappointed noise. "So the lie is that doggie style isn't your favorite position? Damn."
I had to grin. "I've never done it doggie style so I wouldn't know."
Nathan flopped back onto the bed with a groan. "You're killing me over here, gorgeous. Now all I can think about is showing you how it's done."
"Game's still on," I said. "You want to forfeit?"
"You wish." He sat up. "I've written a whole album of solo songs. I was one of those sports star jocks in high school." Nathan pressed his lips together and met my eyes straight on. "I wish Gael had never met Jessie."
My heart ached for Nathan. "I'm sorry. It must be hard."
"It is. But that one's the lie." He quirked a smile. "I actually was a jock. Track and field star. I was great at long distance running. Team sports were never my thing, but I liked running to keep in shape and build up my stamina."
"You don't have any problem with stamina," I said playfully before turning serious. "So you wrote a whole album of songs? I'd love to hear some of it."
"Fuck no," he said bluntly. "It's all shit."
"I bet it's not."
"It's sure as fuck not as good as the stuff Cerise comes up with," he said. "She's a fucking genius. My stuff will never sound like hers."
"It doesn't have to," I said. "It only has to sound like you."
Nathan looked taken aback, as if he'd never thought of it that way. I had to wonder what it was like, to be surrounded by people who were so good at their jobs that you thought you'd never match up.
"So the lie was the Jessie and Gael thing?" I asked.
"She's good for him," Nathan said. "Brings out the best in him. So I'm glad he met her."
"You're a good friend," I told him.
He snorted, looking away "Yeah, well…"
"A lot of people would be jealous if they were you," I said. "Some people might even try to break them up or cause trouble. But even though you feel sort of abandoned, you don't wish them any ill will. That's big of you."<
br />
"I see the way Gael lights up when he's around her," Nathan said. "He's always been a cheerful guy, but I've never seen him as happy as he is when he's with her. He used to be sort of a fuck up, you know? Acting out, making a goddamn nuisance of himself. Of course," Nathan chuckled, "a lot of those times I went along for the ride. I still remember the look on Cerise's face when she walked into the hotel room we'd just trashed in a drunken stupor. I thought she'd murder us with her eyes alone."
"Trashing hotel rooms?" I made a tsk sound. "Typical rock star."
Nathan shrugged. "Like I said, Gael used to be crazy wild. But ever since he met Jessie, he's calmed down. He takes things more seriously. She's like his rock. He can depend on her." Nathan paused, looking at a point in the distance. "Sometimes I wish I had something like that. Someone I could lean on. Someone I could rely on."
I sympathized completely. With my situation, I'd always have to depend on someone, whether it was my parents, or a partner. Although I knew it would never be fair to put that burden on another person, I could understand the longing.
I just wished Nathan felt like he could talk to his band. It must have been tough, keeping something like this from your closest friends because you didn't want to disrupt their work. Nathan was just as dedicated to his music, his passion, as he was to his mother. It must have been torture, feeling torn between the two.
"Anyway, it's fine," Nathan said hurriedly. "It's just cool Gael's less of an asshole now."
I nodded, letting him deflect.
"Your turn," he said.
We hadn't touched the bottle of rum since he'd come clean about his mom. I didn't bring it up now.
"I regret walking out on you that night," I said. "No one's ever made me feel the things you made me feel. I think there's more to you than just the carefree, playboy rock star you pretend to be."
He huffed out a laugh. "That last one's a lie."
I shook my head. "No. They're all true."
Nathan stared at me. I met his gaze, unflinching.
"That's not how you play the game," he said.
I took one of his hands in mine. He brought his other to my cheek, thumb brushing my skin.
"You may be inexperienced in some ways, but I think you're wiser than most," he said. "I feel like I can tell you things I never talk about. You're not like anyone else I've ever known."
"That last one's a lie," I said. "I'm nothing special."
"They're all true," he echoed.
Nathan moved slowly, inching closer to me, until his lips were a hairsbreadth away from mine. He held himself there, not moving.
I looked up into his eyes. I saw none of his usual teasing, no playfulness. The heat simmering in his gaze was muted. From that deep blue radiated a sincerity I'd rarely seen before.
I brought a hand to the back of his head, burying my fingers in the soft strands. His fingers caressed a trail up my arm, from my inner wrist, along my shoulder, to my collarbone. The entire time, we stared at each other as our breaths mingled.
"Becca," he whispered.
That was all he said. My name. But in that one word I heard a million unsaid things. Because I was thinking them, too. I was feeling them.
I'd been telling the truth when I said no one had ever made me feel the way Nathan made me feel. But I hadn't only been talking about the physical.
Ever since I first met him, Nathan had shown me kindness, a caring and tenderness I never would have expected from someone like him. I felt like I could open up around him. I could let my guard down. I'd never been able to do that with anyone.
And now I knew he felt the same way about me.
But could I rely on him? That was the real question.
A loud noise startled us. The door banged open and flung against the opposite wall. Two guys fell through, landing on the floor as they threw their fists at each other and yelled.
"Break it up!" I heard someone yell from the hallway.
I scrambled away from Nathan, putting distance between us.
I was still all muddled, my mind refusing to admit the things my heart was shouting.
"I'm going to—" I began.
"You don't have to—" he said at the same time.
I flushed and looked away.
"I'm going to get a drink," I mumbled.
I fled the room without looking back.
13
I ran back down to the party, leaving Nathan in bed and looking befuddled for the second time since we'd met.
My heart pounded, and it wasn't solely from the surprise of being walked in on.
What the hell was wrong with me? I'd allowed my thoughts to wander to entirely inappropriate places.
Yes, I had fun being around Nathan, and yes, he was a great guy. But that was it. That had to be all it was.
I couldn't allow it to be anything else.
But the aching feeling in my chest remained. Nathan had opened himself up to me, and I to him. The way he'd stared into my eyes and whispered my name, the soft touch of his fingers against my skin, the way he'd confided to me all the things he couldn't tell anyone else…
My heart thumped a heavy beat.
It had to have just been the alcohol, right? There was no way we would have said the things we had if we'd both been sober.
But even as I told myself that, I knew it was a lie. We'd barely touched the bottle of rum he'd brought with us.
I found myself back in the kitchen. I grabbed a bottle of something dark amber along with a plastic cup. I headed toward the back of the mansion as I poured myself what I hoped was a few shots of liquor. I needed something to dull my rising panic.
"Hey," a voice said behind me in a low tone.
I started, nearly splashing the alcohol down the front of my shirt. Julian held his palms up, as if to show he meant no harm.
"Didn't mean to scare you," he said.
"You're like a cat," I accused.
The corner of his lips turned up, then fell, his expression turning serious.
"What's up with Nate?" he asked with no preamble.
"What do you mean, what's up with him?" I asked, heartbeat still pounding.
"He's acting weird," Julian said.
"He's been acting totally normal around me." Up until a few minutes ago, at least.
"Right," he said. "Around you. Around us, he's weird. All shifty. Distant. Gael tries to pry it out of him, but he's tight-lipped. We're…"
Julian trailed off, looking uncomfortable. He shifted his eyes until they were looking at a point over my shoulder.
"We're worried," he said, almost under his breath, as if the words were being dragged out of him and he didn't want anyone else to hear.
Julian flicked his eyes back to mine, looking at me expectantly, but I didn't say anything, just took a sip of my drink.
I knew he must have been talking about Nathan's sick mother. He clearly hadn't told anyone about it.
Julian and I stared each other down, neither of us saying a thing. There was a heavy weight to his look, like he was trying to pull the answers out of me. I had a feeling this guy could handle silence for longer than most people before starting to feel awkward.
He was also probably used to winning staring contests, because the man was intense. He'd seemed dispassionate and almost uncaring during the game, but there was clearly more to the guy than I'd originally thought. Although he might play it cool on the outside, there was a fire inside him, just waiting to be unleashed.
The contrast was oddly intriguing.
I held my own, even though the intensity of his gaze was unnerving. He broke first, which I had to assume didn't often happen, because his eyes narrowed at me, looking almost impressed. He nodded.
"Fine. You don't have to say. But if he's confiding in you…" Julian eyed me carefully, as if studying a specimen under a microscope. "You must be pretty special."
He grabbed a bottle of vodka from the counter, gave me one last penetrating look, and ambled out of the kitchen.
A
fter he'd gone, I clutched my cup tight, feeling my tense shoulders relax. Being interrogated like that hadn't done anything to soothe my nerves. I took another chug of my drink.
After only a few wrong turns, I finally made it to the back yard where, just as I expected, a dozen or so partygoers were lounging in a vast in-ground pool.
Without letting myself think twice, I shimmied out of my jeans and t-shirt, and laid them across a reclining chair with my purse, leaving me in my swimsuit. I knew a few of my scars would be on display, but they were small and faded enough no one would think twice. I could have gotten them from any sort of accident as a kid.
"Hey," a woman's voice called out. "Becca, right?" Jessie waved at me as she treaded water in the deep end of the pool. "Come on in, the water's amazing."
I tiptoed toward her in bare feet and gingerly sat on the edge of the pool, setting the bottle and cup next to me. I lowered my feet into the water and flinched. Jessie laughed and floated over to me.
"Too cold?" she asked.
"I'm sort of a wimp," I admitted. "I prefer my swimming pools to feel like a bathtub."
Jessie rested her arms against the edge. "It's not so bad once you get used to it."
"How's Gael feeling?" I asked, kicking my feet around in the water and taking a sip of my drink. It burned less than last time, instead leaving only a warming path through my insides.
"Doing well, considering he almost busted his head open," she said matter-of-factly. "But he tore a hole in Cameron's ceiling, so he's pleased with himself."
"Do I want to ask why the bassist of Cherry Lips has a rivalry with the bassist of Darkest Days?
"Cam's an obnoxious asshole," Jessie said with a grin. "He thrives on pissing people off. Gael gets riled up too easily. It makes him an easy mark."
"I thought your boyfriend actually seemed pretty easygoing," I said.
"He's also got an enormous ego," she said. "He hates not having it stroked."
"He and Nathan are pretty similar, then."
But I couldn't help remember the way Nathan had talked about his solo songs. He'd compared himself to his lead singer Cerise and said he'd never be as good as her. Maybe Nathan had a big head when it came to some things, like his guitar playing, but he did have moments of self-doubt. He wasn't the complete narcissist everyone thought he was.
Hard Rock Kiss Page 8
