He grinned. “Is that so?”
I nodded. “It is. I mean the track’s good. But your lyrics…? I mean cliché wannabe much?”
“Well, wannabe kind of goes with the territory when you’re trying to get famous, Clo,” he faux-chastised.
I laughed. “I suppose so.”
“But you still don’t like it?”
I shrugged. “It’s not my song.”
He patted the floor beside him. “Come and help me write a good song then.”
I snorted. “No. I play other people’s music. I can’t write it and I’m no good at poetry.”
He scoffed. “Poetry?” He glared at me exasperatedly. “Come on. Help a friend in need?” he pleaded.
I laughed. “I’ll sit with you for a bit, but I make no promises of how helpful I’ll be.”
He gave me one of those sincere smiles, his honey eyes warm. “Thank you.”
I gave him a look that warned him no funny business and he nodded somewhat believably. I went over to the stairs and jogged up them, plopping down next to him and crossing my legs.
“Okay, show me what you have,” I said.
He played me through half a minute or so of the song and I listened. As far as Quicksilver songs went, it was pretty par for the course. A little poppy, a little rocky, and about a guy pining over a girl based on the meagre lyrics he had down.
“Well?” he asked when I’d sat and looked at him for a few seconds.
I frowned. “Uh, it’s fine?”
He laughed. “Fine? Friends are honest aren’t they?”
I grimaced apologetically. “Well, the track seems a little…clunky?”
“Clunky, what would you know about clunky? You play guitar, too?” He smiled like it was impossible for a girl like me to play more than one instrument.
I decided not to bruise his fragile brink-of-stardom ego by confirming or denying anything.
I shrugged. “Can’t be that hard.”
He scoffed. “Come on then, I’ll show you.”
He lifted up the guitar and unbent his leg. I looked at it sceptically.
“And what are you expecting me to do with that?”
“I’m expecting you to park your butt. I’m going to teach you to play guitar.”
I laughed. “Eli, I’ll be fine.”
“Come on. Can I not share something I love with a friend?”
“You’re very hung up on this friend thing today.”
He shrugged and I wished I didn’t find it adorable. “I’m not used to having a girl as a proper friend. I’m enjoying it.”
Giving him a smile, I shook my head.
“Why not?” he laughed. “Please? For me?”
I sighed, figuring a few minutes of pretending to learn to play guitar wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Finally, I nodded and scooched between his legs, facing away from him. He put the guitar over my stomach, boxing me against him. He leant over my left shoulder and I was completely, totally, one hundred per cent not affected by his pleasantly warm breath tickling my ear.
“Okay. So, chords. Most important…” he said as he placed his fingers on the stings on the neck in a few different chord positions.
I totally didn’t get distracted for a second by how nice his hands were, how long his fingers. The rings covering them only served as points of reference to better notice the way his hands moved flawlessly. A little bit like those white spots on those people who model for CGI characters. I was a little captivated by it until he spoke, actually.
“We start with a simple E. Your turn, put them here.”
I put my fingers next to his. He slid his fingers over mine and my heart hitched before it started beating slightly more erratically.
“Good,” he said softly, no hint of the sarcastic flirt I’d come to know. He reached his right arm around me and strummed. “Right, see?”
He took me through a few chords and I even got to strum it a few times. I had to say, he was a good teacher. Even if no teacher I’d ever had before had sat me between his legs as he’d taught me – which, in hindsight was probably good on a legal level. I could feel the vibration of Eli’s voice through his chest and my back, feel his warmth surround me, and feel his heart beating steadily. Which only made mine pound faster as I panicked he could tell mine was running far too quickly.
His right hand rested on my waist when it wasn’t strumming and his left on my leg, or they hovered, ready to help or to tutor. I told myself strictly that it didn’t feel good, that it didn’t feel right, that I felt nothing more about it than that I was supposed to be playing the guitar. His hands, wherever he put them, were sure and comforting and warm. They lingered on my body every time before he moved them almost lazily to the neck or strings of the guitar. He laughed congenially when I played the wrong chord and just gently helped me place my fingers for the right one.
Eli was relaxed, sincere, happy.
It was far too much contact, too close, too much of a sizzling hint of potential. But I was in no hurry to move or get the lesson over with. It was wrong and it was bad, but I liked it there between his arms, our cheeks brushing as he guided me over my shoulder. The fact that he smelled amazing – all musky and spicy with a hint of something sweet – certainly didn’t hurt. The fact that his voice in my ear was low and smooth and gentle also didn’t hurt. And the way his rough chuckles made a pleasant tingle shoot through me just seemed to be the last nail in the coffin.
Eli brushed my hair out of his way. “Okay, shall we put some together?” he asked finally.
I nodded, glad that his proximity was making me nervous because then I didn’t have to pretend I couldn’t play. I was playing poorly well enough on my own. He went through a few chords, then got me to play them after him.
“Huh…” he said and I felt his huff.
“What?” I asked.
“Play that again. A little faster.”
Confused, I did.
“You know how to play, don’t you?”
I felt my cheeks flush and I looked down at the guitar in my lap. “Uh… Maybe.”
For a moment, I thought he was going to be pissed at me. Then, I felt him laughing. He scooted away so he could look at me, his face lit with that annoyingly endearing sincere smile, an accompanying glint in his eyes. He ran his tongue over his lip and huffed again.
“You totally can. Why didn’t you just say?”
I shrugged. “I find life goes faster if I just let people do what they want to do.”
“But, you just… How do you just go along with people like that?”
“Years of practise,” I answered before I had a chance to think about what I was saying.
His humour dropped as he looked me over. He flicked his hair out of his eyes and the intensity with which he was looking at me gave me tingles. I wanted to look away, to break whatever it was, but I couldn’t. Those pale honey eyes held me so tightly it may as well have been his arms around me.
“And, what about what you want to do?”
I shrugged again but didn’t answer; it either would have been a lie or something far too real. I finally managed to look away, staring at the floor between us.
“Will you play me something, then?” he asked, his voice soft. It was a proper request, no expectation.
“Like what?” I replied, my hands moving over the strings while I thought about what I might play.
“Your favourite song?”
I looked up at him, unable to stop myself smiling. “It’s not a Quicksilver one.”
He smirked at me like we shared a secret, his eyes warm. “I’m glad.” He looked at me, waiting but patient.
Finally, I nodded slowly. “All right.”
I shifted so I was facing him, still between his legs. He lifted one leg to bent and rested his elbow on his knee while he looked me over as though in anticipation. I gave him a small smile, bit my lip and told myself to just go for it. I started strumming, watching
to see if he’d recognise it. Slowly, a smile spread across his face. When I started singing, my eyes dropped and my cheeks heated. But, I kept going.
I got far too into it, as I always did when I heard that song. But, he was a semi-famous rockstar; if anyone was going to understand getting carried away by the song, it was him.
As I played the final notes of Sixpence None the Richer’s ‘Kiss Me’, I finally had the courage to look up at him. Like the day we’d played the piano together, he looked at me with something scarily similar to respect and wonder. He leant forward slowly, closing the not very large gap between us. My heart fluttered, but I didn’t pull away.
“You can tell a lot about a person by what song they choose to play,” he reminded me, almost a whisper, as his eyes darted between mine, down to my lips and back again.
“Yes, like I watch too many old teen movies with Aunt Bow,” I replied, willing the fluttering in my chest to stop.
The corner of his lips rose for a second. “Guilty pleasure?”
I nodded. “Little bit.”
He nodded slowly and I was sure he was even closer than he’d been before. Our lips were so close I was surprised they didn’t brush when he spoke. “Guilty pleasures, I get.”
The distance between us was closed and I don’t know who was to blame for that one.
His lips touched mine, warm and soft and far too nice. I kissed him back for a moment, forgetting who I was in the face of what he made me feel. But, finally, I pulled away slowly.
“Eli, what are you doing?”
“Kissing you,” he answered simply, our noses still close enough to bump. “I might again if you don’t say anything.”
He waited for a heartbeat, then two. Why didn’t I say anything?
When I’d remained stoically silent for long enough that we both knew it was a signal, he leant in again. This time, I’m pretty sure I met him halfway as our lips touched again.
As his hand cupped my cheek, I told myself I didn’t get that warm fuzzy feeling you get in your chest when the main characters in a Kasie West novel are being sweet and adorable together and you want to just shout at them to be together already.
But, I did.
As I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair, I told myself I didn’t have a split-second moment where I could imagine kissing only Eli for the rest of my life no matter how ridiculous that sounded.
But, I did.
As his lips parted mine and the kiss deepened, I told myself my stomach didn’t backflip, my head didn’t tell me I’d made a fantastic choice, and that my body wasn’t telling me there was far too much space between us.
But, all that happened.
Eli slowly took hold of the neck of the guitar and moved it to the side, our kiss not breaking. We both moved forward and I found myself straddling his lap, both my hands in his hair and my chest hard against his like I couldn’t get enough of him. And, just then, I honestly couldn’t.
His scent enveloped me like I needed it to live, and he tasted like something sweet – probably all that peach coke he drank. I got this weird, light and floaty feeling in my stomach. Everything in me felt settled and at peace in a way I could never remember feeling.
One of Eli’s hands was on my waist, the other ran up my leg as I pressed against him. I felt him bend his knee up behind me and we toppled over, our kiss breaking and both of us laughing. His head smacked on the stage and he winced. I bit my lip and put my hand under his head.
“You’re not as innocent as you look, are you?” he asked gently, his eyes shining bright and clear and… There was something about them I’d never seen before. His voice was low and gravelly and it was only then I realised we were both breathing hard.
I smiled down at him and brushed his hair from his face. “Maybe you’ve just never seen the real me?”
“I might not have then, but I do now.”
He looked at me then like he really saw me. His gaze was piercing and just as the vulnerability rushed through me, so did something I wasn’t anywhere near brave enough to put a name to.
“Do not go totally cheesy on me.” I smiled.
“But, that really isn’t how nice girls kiss…”
“Maybe you’ve been kissing the wrong girls.”
“I think I have.”
Before I could overanalyse that statement or my reaction, he reached up, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear, and brought my lips back to his. He kissed me softly, confidently. I might not have kissed as many people as he had, if you believed the rumours, but I’d kissed enough to know that that was not the sort of kiss you give someone when you’re just trying to get in their pants – or, if you are, you’re far too good at your game and should probably be ashamed of yourself.
Just as I was shamelessly melting into him, my phone rang, jolting me out of the pleasant haze he’d created in my head. It had almost been like I’d forgotten reality; who I was, who he was, where we were. I rolled off him and wrestled my phone out of my pocket.
“Oh, shit,” I muttered as I answered. “Yeah?”
“Where are you?” Ella cried shrilly.
I threw a guilty look to Eli as I clambered up from the floor and dusted the butt of my jeans off for good measure. “Uh, I’m… I just had to get something for Milly.”
“For Milly?” she spat in disbelief.
I rolled my eyes. “Yes. For the Committee. She needed me to do something.”
“Did you see Elijah?” she asked, her tone changing from raging monster bitch to sickeningly sweet.
I looked at him again in panic and found him watching me cautiously, a hint of a humoured smile on his face. Was it my imagination, or did he looked seriously kissed? God, did I look seriously kissed? A nervous bark of laughter escaped me as I turned away from Eli and smoothed my hair and my fingers trailed their way to my lips of their own accord.
“No. No, I didn’t see him. He’s probably gone for the day…”
She sighed like everything in the world was my fault and she should have known better than to expect better of me. “Fine. I need you to get home and drive me to this thing tonight. Elijah’s going to be there and we need to be seen together if rank Milly’s going to get the message she’s out.”
My heart thundered painfully and I had to take a deep breath. God, if Milly had been in this much shit for just looking at him, what would happen to me if Ella found out I’d kissed him? He’d kissed me…whatever.
I mean, they weren’t dating – going to the formal together didn’t indicate dating and anything with Eli Sweet didn’t indicate dating – but Ella was sure he’d be hers and, like I’d said before, I was quite partial to my skin.
“Yeah, sure. Of course,” I chuckled nervously. “Sure, what time do you need to be there?”
I jumped as I felt hands on my hips and lips on my neck. I froze.
There was a pause from Ella, then, “You’re very agreeable today,” she accused.
I laughed and hoped I was the only one who thought I sounded like a lunatic. “Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Fine. I’m leaving at five.”
“Okay, I’ll be there in plenty of time.”
“Good.”
The phone clicked as she hung up on me and I couldn’t move. Eli’s lips were still on my neck and it was a war between my body telling me to turn around and kiss him like my life depended on it – and my body was very inclined to think my life did depend on it – my brain telling me to get out of there before we lost my body its precious skin, and my heart that didn’t know whose army to join for far too many reasons than there should have been.
I pulled away from Eli with an awkward chuckle and backed towards the stairs. “Uh, I need to go… Thanks for the guitar lesson… I will… Uh… I’ll see you…” I took a deep breath as I kept backing away. With each step I took, his face got more confused. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Chloe…” he said, moving forward.
/> I held up a hand, like that was going to do anything, and shook my head. “I have to go.”
“Don’t go,” he pleaded.
I could do nothing more than shake my head again as I turned and hurried towards the doors. I heard a thump and then Eli grabbed my arm and turned me to face him; he must have jumped off the stage.
“Chloe, what’s…? I–”
“I need to go, Eli,” I said, looking up into his eyes and willing him to understand whatever it was I was feeling; I hoped he had more idea than me.
Concern crossed his features for a moment and his eyebrows twitched into a frown for a second. Finally, he let me go, his face looking an awful lot like he’d just worked out something he might have preferred not to, as well. I wasn’t going to even begin to delve into what it might have been; I didn’t think I’d like the answer. He took a step back quickly and nodded.
“See you tomorrow,” he said with an awkward bluster, much more the suave flirter I hadn’t seen in a while.
I gave him one more look, not sure what I was trying to apologise for, and ran out.
He might not have been kissing me the sort of way that meant he only wanted to get into my pants, but I hadn’t exactly been giving him the ‘not interested’ vibe with the way I’d kissed him back.
As I unlocked the car and swung in, realising I’d forgotten the damned all-precious clipboard again, I realised something else.
Maybe I wasn’t quite so uninterested in Eli Sweet as I was trying to convince everyone. Maybe I could actually be very interested in Eli Sweet; with his sexy smile, those twinkling eyes, that laugh that made you smile right back… Or, worse, maybe I already was.
“Because, that’s just what I need,” I grumbled as I turned on the car.
Brighter lights of infamy
Feeling like a right prat, I was back to avoiding Eli where possible. But I wasn’t going to let my stupidity or my confused emotions get between me and Govi.
“You look like you’ve seen better days,” I laughed sympathetically as he smiled wearily at me on Friday afternoon.
He nodded. “Yeah, Eli instigated the practically all-night practices last week and it’s starting to take its toll.”
The Stand-In: my life as an understudy Page 17
