Tempting

by Crystal Kaswell

  Maybe it is. Her pleasure is certainly my pleasure.

  She pushes herself up and reaches down to turn off the toy. Her eyes are still heavy but now it's with satisfaction.

  "I think you might have got me this time." She flops onto the bed next to me. "I think I might really die from this."

  With one hand, I pull her closer. With the other, I stroke her hair. "Any regrets?"

  "Only one." She rests her head on my chest. Her heavy lids fall together. She lets out a long, deep sigh of pleasure.

  I hold her body against mine. The sound of our breath mixes with the rain pounding the window.

  Violet's voice is a murmur. "There's this job in Orange County. I think I'm gonna take it. I still have an interview, but it's more of a formality." She traces the lines of the tattoo on my chest. "Your tour ends three weeks before the semester does… we can be together all summer."

  I'm warm all over.

  "Are you happy?" she whispers.

  "Yeah."

  "You have to promise," she whispers.

  "Promise what, Vi?"

  "You have to promise. I have to know you mean it." She looks up at me with all this intention in her green eyes. "Will you promise?"

  "Promise what?"

  "I want to be with you, Ethan. You have to promise you'll be with me too." Her voice gets sleepy. "You have to promise you'll be mine. Promise…"

  "I promise."

  Her breath slows. Her muscles go slack.

  Violet is asleep in my arms.

  She's mine.

  The white light of a cloudy morning is streaming through the curtains. The bed is warm. Warmer than it should be.

  That's not the bed. It's Violet.

  She's burning up.

  She blinks her eyes open and looks at me. Then her eyes are closed as she lets out a deep cough.

  I press the back of my hand against her forehead.

  "Your skin is so cool." She turns to cough into her shoulder. "Shit."

  "You have a thermometer?" I ask.

  "No."

  "You're hot."

  She groans. "My head hurts too much for me to make a joke about that." She falls back into bed and pulls the covers to her chest. "Do I sound as congested as I feel?"

  She does, but I'm not going to tease her when she looks this miserable.

  I plant a kiss on her forehead. "I'll check if you have cough medicine."

  Her lips curl into a tiny smile. "Thanks, Ethan." She rolls over in the bed. "I hope I don't have to spend our weekend in bed."

  "That was my plan."

  She laughs. "But not the fun way."

  "It's fun if I'm with you."

  "You're cheesy."

  "You like it."

  I pull on my boxers—don't want to scare Violet's roommate—and head to the bathroom. The medicine cabinet and counters are packed to the brim with makeup and hair products, but the only medicine in here is ibuprofen.

  After I do my usual morning routine, I head back to Violet's room.

  She pulls the covers down to look at me. "It's not good, huh?"

  "Want me to pick something up?"

  She looks out the window at the misty white sky. "Ugly out there."

  I nod.

  "You don't mind?"

  "Of course not." I like taking care of Violet. Want to spend my life taking care of Violet.

  She pushes herself up in bed and pats the spot next to her.

  I get my jeans and t-shirt on, then I take a seat next to her and pull her into a deep hug.

  She brings her lips to my ear. "I… I… Ethan I… I'm glad you're here."

  "I'm glad I'm here." I kiss her forehead again.

  "Don't take too long." She falls back into bed. "Please."

  I'm on the way back to Violet's place when my phone rings.

  Huh? It's barely eight A.M. No one calls this early. No one on the west coast is even awake.

  It's Mal.

  That can't be good.

  I bring the phone to my ear. "Tell me this isn't bad news."

  "It's good news."

  Still don't have a good feeling about it.

  "You with Violet?" he asks.

  "Yeah."

  "Then never mind. I'll decline this."

  "At least tell me what it is."

  Mal's voice is as even as always. "We got offered a spot on a late night show tonight. Their original band got food poisoning. Kit and Joel are in."

  "You and Joel are communicating?"

  "More or less."

  That's Mal for less.

  "It's a good opportunity but…" His implication is clear. But so is being with Violet. "It's your call, Ethan."

  "Let me think about it."

  "Hate to rush you, but they want to know immediately."

  Shit.

  "I can buy you twenty minutes. If I don't hear from you by then, I'll decline."

  "Thanks."

  "Hmmm."

  The phone clicks. I press the thing between my palms. A late night show means millions of people watching us perform. That's mainstream success. That's the kind of thing bands dream about.

  I've been working for opportunities like this for the last three years.

  Promised Violet I'd stick around. I want to, but I can't turn this down.

  She'll understand.

  I text Mal.

  Ethan: I'm in.

  It only takes a minute for him to reply.

  Mal: Rehearsal starts at nine-thirty. Don't be late.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Violet

  Everything hurts.

  Dammit, I can't remember the last time I was sick. Is getting caught in the rain really that bad? It's happened plenty of times, but only for the distance from the subway to school or the subway to my apartment. Yesterday was the first time I spent the entire day in the pouring rain.

  I get myself into my pajamas, wrap a blanket around my shoulders, and put on a pot of tea. The sky is still white. It's still pouring outside.

  It's an ugly day.

  Then the door opens and Ethan steps inside and it's not ugly anymore. His blue eyes really brighten every room.

  But there's something in his expression…

  Something is wrong.

  He pulls the cough medicine from the paper bag in his hands. "You want a full dose?"

  "Please."

  He says nothing as he pours orange liquid into the dosing container and hands it to me.

  I swig the thing in one sip. Artificial orange flavor. It's not awful.

  My apartment is small—all New York City apartments are small, even the ones this far out in Brooklyn—but somehow it feels like Ethan is far away.

  I nod to the couch. "Got Netflix queued up to Battlestar Galactica but there are a whole bunch of monster movies we could watch instead."

  He runs his hand through his hair.

  "You're wet."

  "It's raining."

  "You're not taking off your shoes."

  His eyes turn down.

  "Or your coat."

  He says nothing.

  "I know you always drink coffee first thing, but we have coffee here. Athena is into dark roast. She taught me how to make a pour over. I can get that for you."

  "Vi—"

  There must be some reason why he isn't settling in. I have to figure it out before I start to panic. "Don't tell me your rich people gym chain is nearby."

  But I know there's no chance of that. No one who lives this far out in Brooklyn could possibly afford Ethan's gym.

  Why does it look like he's leaving?

  He promised he'd stay all weekend.

  He promised and he's…

  "Ethan…"

  His voice is low, apologetic. "Dangerous Noise got invited to perform on a late night show. Their guest canceled. Rehearsal starts in an hour and a half."

  "And you're leaving to go to rehearsal?"

  "Yeah."

  "You're leaving now?"

  He swallows hard. "
That's the plan."

  My words are hollow, an echo. "That's the plan… right. Because you're Ethan Strong, the Dangerous Noise guitarist, and music is everything to you. I get it. Yeah. Right."

  "Vi-"

  "You promised."

  "This is a great opportunity."

  It is. I know it is. And I want that for Ethan. But he fucking promised.

  I want that to be enough for him. I can't compete with the millions of people who will watch that show. I can't compete with thousands of fans screaming his name.

  I don't want to.

  I want him promising me he'll be here to be enough to convince him to do it.

  I want to matter that much to him.

  I blink back a tear. I feel dizzy. I'm not sure if it's the head cold or if it's all the feelings stirring in my stomach.

  I take a step towards the couch, but I trip on my blanket.

  Ethan catches me. He pulls me into a tight hug. God, I want to absorb all the comfort of his arms.

  But I can't.

  "You're going to be late," I whisper.

  He holds my body against his. "I can come back as soon as it's over."

  "Right. Yeah. When is that?"

  "Later tonight."

  He promised me this day together and now he's leaving like it's nothing.

  "And tomorrow, when you get a chance to play some corporate gig?" I pull away from his touch and plant on the couch.

  Ethan turns to look at me. "No, I…"

  He can't even promise he'll be here tomorrow.

  "I thought things were going to be different. Why would they be different?" My voice gets soft. "I must be the stupidest person in the entire world."

  He sits next to me on the couch.

  I shake my head. "I guess it doesn't matter that I love you, does it?"

  "Violet, I love—"

  "Don't finish that sentence. It's only going to make this worse."

  I believe that he loves me, even without him saying the words.

  I thought that was enough.

  But it's not.

  I pull my blanket tighter. "I… I love you so much, Ethan. I was watching you at the show and my heart was so full it was ready to burst out of my chest. I could see all that happiness on your face. I could see that you were finally where you belonged. You love the stage. You love the guitar. You love Dangerous Noise. Don't you?"

  "Yeah."

  "I thought I was okay with that coming first. I thought I was okay knowing that music would always matter more to you than I did. But I'm not. I want you to look at me the way your friend Drew looks at his fiancée Kara. I want to trust you to keep your promises. I want to know that if you ever have to choose, you'll choose me."

  He stares at me with all this hurt in his deep blue eyes.

  The kettle whistles.

  "I'll get that." Ethan pushes himself off the couch. He moves to the stovetop and makes me a cup of tea. He turns and presses his back against the counter. His eyes meet mine. They're still wracked with hurt.

  But he says nothing.

  I can only barely get the words out. "You're going to be late."

  "Vi, I…"

  He wants to fix this, but he can't. Neither of us can. He's got the love of his life and I'll never be able to compete with his guitar.

  His eyes turn to the floor. "I'm sorry."

  Then he goes to the door.

  And the door is closed.

  And he's gone.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Violet

  Time slows to a crawl. The sheets smell like Ethan. The whole room smells like Ethan.

  It's not fair that he occupies this much space in my mind. Dammit, I really thought things were different this time. He promised he'd make this work. He held me while I cried. He planned that whole trip back home, just to ease my pain.

  Fuck, he held my hand while I got a tattoo.

  I thought I wanted him to stitch together my broken heart. And he did. But then he tore it in half again.

  I shower so I won't smell like him. The water is hot and it's pounding my back and the only thing I can think about is him holding me while I cried.

  The tile wall is slick against my palm. I can't get a grip. All my ideas about spending a glorious half an hour in here with Ethan get ugly. I think about him in another shower, with another woman, stroking her and pinning her to the wall and driving his cock deep inside her.

  Do I mean that little to him?

  Right now, I don't know.

  Right now, I don't know anything.

  I scrub until my skin is raw and red. I wash and condition my hair three times. When I step out of the shower, I no longer smell like Ethan.

  Turns out that doesn't do shit to erase him from my mind.

  I can't sit here wallowing. No matter how frozen I feel, I need to do something.

  My body hurts as much as my heart does. I take another dose of cold medicine, I take a seat at my desk, and I pour myself into my work.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Ethan

  Playing Better Days on a famous sound stage, even at rehearsal, is the kind of thing that should light me up inside. I don't hold back, not at rehearsals, not on stage, not offstage. Not anywhere.

  But right now…

  Muscle memory is the only thing that gets me through the song. My fingers know the way around my guitar better than they know anything. This is what I'm good at.

  This is where I belong.

  Even Violet thinks so.

  I should be happy about this opportunity. I should at least be taking it in. My eyes are clear. I can see everything. I can hear every note from my guitar, from Mal's guitar, from Kit's bass, from Joel's drum kit. I can hear every bit of my brother's breathy voice.

  I can hear the orders from the crew and from Mal, and I can even sense the continuing frost between Joel and Mal—the two of them hold grudges better than anyone in the universe.

  It's all here. It's all happening around me. But I'm not here. I'm off some other place, stuck in how badly I fucked everything up again.

  Mal's New York fuck buddy is sitting in the front row, half watching our rehearsal, half looking at her phone. She's waiting for him. She's at his beck and call.

  It's the same with all his fuck buddies in every city. They jump to meet his terms. They jump to do what he wants to do, wherever he is, whenever he wants to be there.

  No doubt he makes it up to them with his hands, mouth, or cock, but I'm not entertaining those thoughts.

  They really are sidekicks. He cares about them, yeah, but he always makes it clear it's only when things are convenient for him.

  If that's what I was doing to Violet, she was right to let me walk away.

  Fuck, I'm an asshole.

  It's possible she's better off without me. But there's no way in hell I'm better off without her.

  All day, I stay off some other place. We finish rehearsal, wait around in separate rooms, and perform for a live studio audience. I can see people cheering and clapping and screaming out our lyrics, but it doesn't stir me the way it usually does.

  After we finish, a production assistant shepherds us to a dressing room. We're to wait until the producers look over the footage to make sure it's usable.

  The room is an average dressing room. It's got a vanity, four hair and makeup chairs, and a table piled with snacks and beverages. It's a nice size but it's far too small for the hostility between Mal and Joel.

  Joel grabs a bottle of water and rubs his temples. Another hangover. You'd think he'd know his limits by now.

  Most days, I'd throw out a joke about it. Right now, it doesn't feel worth the effort.

  Joel takes a seat in one of the makeup chairs. Kit does the same, only he directs his attention to his e-reader.

  Mal reaches for the door. "I'm gonna grab Stacey."

  Joel's eyes narrow. He shakes it off. "Valentine with your fuck buddy?"

  Mal shakes his head.

  Joel rubs his temples. "Whe
re is Valentine?" He looks to me. "Strong, don't fucking tell me she's not here."

  I say nothing.

  Joel stares daggers at Mal. "Oh, was she getting in the way, too?"

  "Violet is like a sister to me," Mal says.

  "Never see your sister around. That's not helping your case," Joel says.

  "Don't need you falling on this sword for me," Kit mutters.

  "Yeah, well I'm not doing shit for you, Rhythmic One. This is fucking personal." Joel looks at me. "You gonna fucking say anything?"

  "You're doing a bang-up job speaking for me." My shoulders clench up, but this isn't Joel's fault. Or Mal's fault. It's my fault. Should say as much. "Mal left it up to me. I choose to be here."

  Joel's brow screws with confusion.

  "Mal didn't do shit. This was all me," I say. "I fucked everything up."

  "Why the fuck would you choose this over the woman you've been pining over for the last two years?" Joel asks.

  Because music is all I'm good at. Music is what makes me happy. Music is everything.

  It feels like nothing right now.

  Feels empty if I can't share it with Violet.

  Despite my insistence Mal isn't at fault, Joel continues staring daggers at my brother. Mal stares back with the same don't fuck with me attitude.

  Might not know how to fix shit with Violet, but I can do something to fix this.

  "Enough of this fucking animosity," I say. "Joel, Kit, you're family as much as Mal is. I trust both of you with my life. Let's stop this bullshit."

  Joel and Mal hold their stares.

  Kit pushes himself up from his chair. He looks at Mal. "I get why you don't trust me. Don't blame you for that. But fuck you for sneaking around behind my back."

  Mal nods. "You're right. Don't have a good excuse. I'm sorry."

  "Good," Kit says.

  "It was the ex-manager. Shouldn't have jumped to conclusions about you, Kit. I know you wouldn't fuck us over." He offers Kit his hand.

  Kit shakes.

  Like that, they're cool.

  Joel looks between them. "That's it?"

  Kit nods. "This is where I want to be. If I wanted to be somewhere else, I'd leave."