As Dust Dances ~ Samantha Young

by Young, Samantha

  I saw exactly what Killian meant by a fifties American diner throwback. The red-leather booths along one side of the wall, the curving stainless steel counter with the ice cream and old-fashioned candy jars behind it, and the essential jukebox in the back.

  It was cozy and smelled amazing.

  Killian gave me a searching look.

  “I like it,” I assured him.

  “The food is good,” he promised, and gestured for me to follow him to the empty booth by the jukebox. Drops of water that had lashed in under his umbrella glistened on his wool coat and I couldn’t help but admire the breadth and strength of his shoulders. He had what I’d call a swimmer’s build, which made sense because Autumn told me Killian swam every morning before work. It was a part of his life I wasn’t privy to: his workout routine. I guess I wasn’t privy to much of his personal life at all. And doubtful ever would be.

  I slid into the booth opposite him, right next to the silent jukebox, grateful I’d be able to hear him when we eventually got around to our talk.

  We ordered, and although I wanted a cheeseburger, I was trying to stick to Brenna’s recommended meal plans. She had me eating a whole lot of kale and fish and other healthy, protein-packed stuff and since my weight and energy levels were back to normal, I didn’t want to mess with it. So I ordered a baked potato with tuna and a salad.

  “You’re being good?” he asked, surprised. “This place has the best burgers.”

  “And it’s very tempting, but my meal plan is working for me. I feel great.”

  He nodded and didn’t press any further. Killian ordered an omelet and a salad after that and I had to wonder if it was in deference to me so I didn’t get lunch envy.

  “You wanted to talk?” I asked after the waitress left.

  He nodded. Then sighed. Then shifted as if uncomfortable. This progressed to him playing with the tongs of the sugar cube bowl. Finally, he glanced around the diner, back at me, and then back to the tongs. I’d never seen him so unsure and I realized why as soon as he opened his mouth.

  “I spoke to Autumn. She, uh . . .” His eyes flicked up to mine and then back down to the table. “She said that you told her . . .” He exhaled slowly and again lifted his gaze. There was a quiet intensity in his dark eyes that held me captive. “I hurt you. You told me some very personal things. I acted like a friend and then I was hurtful at the label. I hurt you.”

  I didn’t reply. My expression said it all. Yes, you hurt me.

  Regret softened his gaze. “I don’t like that I hurt you, Skylar. I’m sorry.”

  Grateful for his apology, I replied, “I forgive you. I’m sorry for being rude to your uncle but not for his sake. For yours.”

  Killian smirked. “Well, I forgive you. And if you must know, I want to punch him every time he calls me boy.”

  I grinned. “I knew it.”

  The smirk fell; the warmth bled from his expression. “I acted like an arsehole because of him. It’s not the first time. It’s just the first time anyone has called me out on it.”

  Since he was being so honest, I decided to test the boundaries of that honesty. “Why do you need to prove yourself to him?”

  Anger flashed across his face. “It’s not about proving myself. It’s about beating him. He’s held the fact that he took Autumn and me into his home over our heads for years. Every failure was our own but every success belonged to him. I want to surpass him. I want him to know that everything we have we have because we earned it. That we’re better than him. That we don’t need him.”

  God, I truly disliked James Byrne. “He holds the fact that he took in two kids over their heads? So what? He had one tiny bone of decency in his body and that makes you forever in his debt? Fuck that.”

  Killian’s eyes danced at my anger.

  I realized I’d cursed quite loudly. “Sorry. It’s just . . . you don’t see it.”

  “See what?”

  “Why he calls you boy when you became a man long before other boys had to. You became a man the moment you realized you were all that Autumn had left.”

  His eyes flared and he sank into the booth like I’d knocked him off balance.

  I nodded. “You did, Killian. You’ve been a parent since you were eleven years old. You’re not perfect. We both know that. But you’re one of the most passionate, determined men I’ve ever met. And your uncle, who is a typical bully, calls you boy because he knows you’re more of a man than he’ll ever be. You’re there for your sister to protect her, love her, in a way he’s probably never been there for anyone. And he knows what you’ve done for that label and I have a feeling it scares him. Maybe you tap into his insecurities. Maybe he’s afraid you will surpass him because he knows you can, and so he does what he can to make you feel small and worthless—knowing it affects you makes him feel powerful again.” It all came out in a rush of sympathetic frustration.

  And Killian stared at me with an open awe I’d never expected to see on his face. He was so closed off, so good at hiding positive emotions, I thought I felt my heart skip a beat at the naked warmth in his eyes.

  “I . . . that makes sense.” He sounded winded by the realization.

  The waitress appeared with our food, breaking our gazes.

  I felt a little off-balance, my skin flushed. After the way he’d treated me at the label, I’d promised myself I was over my crush. Yet all it took for me to forget that vow was an apology and those dark eyes melting like chocolate as he stared at me.

  I wanted Killian O’Dea.

  I couldn’t help myself.

  I was tethered to him somehow and I didn’t think I’d be able to cut myself loose so easily.

  “Skylar?”

  I loved the way his deep, accented voice wrapped around my name. “Aye?” I teased, trying to break the electric tension between us.

  He didn’t smile. He appeared unsure before he said, “I didn’t just want to apologize for the way I treated you. I wanted to reiterate something.”

  And just like that, the warmth disappeared. I got a sinking feeling in my stomach and dropped the tomato I’d been about to shove in my mouth. I knew what was coming.

  “I won’t pretend when you confided in me I did that merely to help get you where you needed to be mentally for the album. You needed someone to talk to, and I genuinely wanted to be that person.”

  I cleared my throat of the disappointment beginning to clog it. “I appreciate that.”

  Killian’s expression turned almost pleading. “But I . . . I can’t be your friend anymore. I think we both know that it was crossing a line into territory that would only confuse things. We can’t complicate our business relationship. Things are going to be stressful for you at first and you don’t need any extra pressure. And I’m . . . You may be right about my uncle, but I still need to be the best. My job is my passion and I can’t risk it. Not . . .” He broke off, looking away.

  Not for me.

  The few times I’d been vulnerable with Killian, I’d felt safe. It had been a purging of emotion so intense, I was drowning in it, and it had been like Killian was there to pull me to the surface.

  But this time I only felt naked and cold and alone.

  I needed him to think him choosing career over whatever it was between us wasn’t a big deal. I needed him to think I didn’t care.

  That I had other things on my mind.

  “You’re right,” I finally responded, grateful that my voice came out strong, my tone neutral. “A lot is about to happen and I need to be focused.”

  He assessed me carefully and I gazed at him, seemingly unconcerned. When I was about to throw the salt shaker at him to get him to stop looking at me like a wounded animal, Killian nodded. “Good.”

  How could it be so easy for him?

  Was it only physical attraction for him? Was that why? Did he not feel the pull between us, like there was a cord that drew us together despite our resistance?

  Was that all in my head?

  I stabbed some sa
lad with my fork, unable to look at him. “So, what’s next?”

  “Next?”

  “With the album?”

  “Well, how’s the wrist?”

  “Not quite ready. I tried playing and I was in pain for the rest of the day.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” He sounded so formal.

  “Yes, it was quite taxing,” I teased in an uppity voice.

  He gave me an unimpressed sigh. “In the meantime, I’ve put together a PR and marketing team. We should arrange a meeting with them. See how we can find ways to handle the inevitable circus when the news of your return hits. And then we can look at how to make sure, once the initial interest fades, that your publicity is career-focused. We don’t want your personal life becoming tabloid fodder again.”

  “Yeah, it would be good if we avoided that.”

  “I’ll arrange the meeting, then? You’re ready for that?”

  I didn’t know if I’d ever be ready for it, but this was happening whether I wanted it to or not. I stared at the man partly to blame for that, wishing I could hate him. “I should probably start checking in on the world, right?”

  “How do you mean?”

  “Before I sit down in a room with a bunch of people to discuss protecting my personal life, I should probably google a thing or two about the current state of my ex-band.” The thought made the food in my stomach churn unpleasantly.

  Killian couldn’t mask his concern for me, and my patience slipped. “I don’t mean to be a bitch, but if we’re not going to be friends, you can’t look at me like that anymore.”

  For a second his expression turned hard, but then it was gone, that signature blank façade slackening his features. “Fine. I’ll get you a laptop. You can google to your heart’s content. Just don’t come running to me when it messes with your head before you’re ready to deal with it.”

  “Oh, I won’t.” I gave him a tight smile. “O’Dea.”

  Killian stared at me apparently emotionless . . . but the little tick of muscle in his jaw gave his frustration away.

  It was a tiny balm to my own.

  * * *

  WHEN A DAY PASSED AND Killian still hadn’t gotten me access to a laptop, I began to suspect he was deliberately avoiding doing so. I could’ve hounded him about it and he would’ve brought me a borrowed one, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to start opening all those wounds. Maybe he understood that better than I did.

  Yet, when another day passed with another failed attempt to play my guitar, I started to feel stir-crazy. It had only been two days—and there had been days in the past eighteen months that I hadn’t spoken a word to anyone—but I was used to speaking to Killian almost every day, and if not him, then Autumn.

  How mad at me was she? The thought of losing her friendship made me feel sick, so I finally got up the nerve to text her.

  I didn’t mean 2 go behind ur back 2 O’Dea. I was worried abt u.

  While I waited for a response, I read a book but I read the same paragraph fifteen times before my phone finally binged in response.

  I’m not mad. Just embarrassed. Also I’m worried about you . . .

  Oh no. Did we have to have another open conversation about how her brother and I were planning to ignore our attraction . . . because awkward.

  But my phone binged before I could respond.

  . . . You text in abbreviation? Skylar, I’m shocked. Really. Maybe you should see a text therapist. Xx

  I grinned, absolutely relieved she was joking with me.

  Me: I know. It’s a problem. I’ve tried rehab bt it didn’t stick.

  Autumn: Why would you miss the ‘u’ from ‘but’? It’s one letter! Lazy much??

  Me: I cld b mo lzy . . .

  Autumn: It’s sad that I understood what that meant. Xx

  Me: So wht u doin?

  Autumn: Trying to decide what I want to do with my future.

  Me: Heavy. Dya wanna take a break from the heavy?

  Autumn: What did you have in mind?

  Me: Anythg tht will get me out of this apt.

  There was no response for a minute or two, but finally she replied.

  Autumn: Have you ever been to King Tut’s?

  I felt a flush of excitement at the thought. King Tut’s Wah Wah Hut was one of Glasgow’s cult music venues. It was where Alan McGee discovered Oasis. Blur, Biffy Clyro, Radiohead, Kings of Leon—they’d all played there. New bands and old still played the venue. The guys and I had wanted to see it for ourselves when we played Glasgow, but we never got the chance.

  Me: No so don’t dangle that carrot unless u mean 2 let me eat it!

  Autumn: LMAO. Would I do that to you?

  Me: Possibly . . .

  Autumn: A friend bought tickets to see this guy I’ve never heard of but she has to work now. I googled the guy—Saul Crowe—and he’s really good. Do you want to come with me? It’s tonight at 8pm. Xx

  Me: 100%!

  Autumn: Okay, great! I’m actually not in the city today so I’ll just get back in time for the gig. Can you meet me there at 7:45pm?

  Me: Not a problem. See u then! Can’t W8T!

  Autumn: Too many abbreviations!!!!!! Xx

  I laughed and replied:

  Me: xx is an abbreviation for kiss, kiss.

  Autumn: Well, it sounds creepy as kiss, kiss . . . xx

  Me: True. x

  Autumn: Aw, I got a kiss from Skylar! I feel special. Xx

  Me: :p

  I TOOK A CAB TO St. Vincent Street that evening because I had no idea how to get to King Tut’s from the apartment. When the cab driver dropped me off, I was slightly confused. We were on a wide sloping street in the commercial part of the city. Opposite me was a glass office building, but behind me was a row of typical Georgian townhouses that had been converted into business premises and apartments. Lights below a large bay window of one lit up the big King Tut’s signage beneath it.

  Huh. Not at all what I’d expected.

  Apparently, King Tut’s was an inconspicuous basement bar.

  I shivered in the cold November air, hugging myself as I watched two young couples walk down the steps to the entrance. Not really knowing what to wear and sick of jeans after twenty months of wearing them, I’d chosen a casual but formfitting black dress Autumn had talked me into buying a few weeks ago. It had a scooped neck that bared my collarbone and dipped low in the back, three-quarter-length sleeves, and it hugged my thighs to a couple of inches above the knee. Paired with my black tights and wedged black boots, it wasn’t overly revealing but it had a casual sexiness that made me feel good.

  It’d been a while since I felt good about my body, but I’d gotten my hips and ass back over the last six weeks and I wanted to celebrate it. Yay for peanut butter!

  However, I hadn’t wanted to overheat in the venue so I’d only thrown on my blazer and a scarf and was consequently freaking cold waiting outside for Autumn. Then I realized she hadn’t specified where we would meet. Inside or out?

  Me: I’m outside. U here yet?

  After what felt like forever because of the aforementioned chill, my phone binged.

  Autumn: I’m inside. At a booth in the bar. You’ll see me as soon as you come in. xx

  Thank God. Hurrying down the steps, I pushed open the door, desperate for some heat in my bones. I might have a beer. It had been a long time since I’d had a beer.

  Anticipation and excitement were things I thought long dead so the giddiness of stepping into a famous music venue, looking forward to grabbing a beer and listening to good music with a friend was so sweet, it almost made me want to cry.

  I walked up a couple of steps and opened the door into the inner bar. The smell of stale beer and bar food hit me and I smiled as I stepped further into the room to search for Autumn. The space was small—a row of booths along the back wall, a bar opposite it, and at the far end double doors that I assumed led up to the event room. It was covered in music memorabilia—photographs and posters—and had the kind of well-worn
appearance that reminded me of an aging legendary rock star who could dress whatever fucking way he liked because he was a goddamned legend.

  I liked it immediately.

  Where was Autumn to share this moment with me? Hmm.

  I was looking for red hair so it took me a moment to see him instead.

  His head was bent over his phone as he sat at a booth on his own, a half-filled pint of lager in front of him.

  Killian?

  My heart rate sped up and I suddenly felt self-conscious in my dress.

  Autumn never said her brother was joining us, the little sneak. I shot a look at the bar, wondering if she was there, and made eye contact with a tall, good-looking bartender. He had a scruffy beard and broad shoulders. He was lean and wiry and his overall appearance was “music aficionado who could give a shit.” He gave me a crooked smile and I returned it with a small one of my own, confused as to where my friend was and why Killian was here. I reluctantly drew my gaze back to him and our eyes immediately connected.

  He held me still with that intense focus and I tried to catch the breath he always managed to knock out of me.

  Business associates and nothing more.

  Right.

  Newcomers accidentally knocked into me with an apology, and I stumbled out of the eye lock with Killian. Okay. So he was here. That was fine. Autumn would be our buffer.

  I pasted a small, not-too-friendly smile on as I strode across the bar, shrugging out of my blazer and scarf. I threw them onto the cracked leather bench seat before sliding in. “Hey.” When I looked at him again, he was dragging his gaze up my body in a way that sent a delicious shiver down my spine.

  “Hi. I wasn’t expecting you.”

  I shook my head. “No, Autumn didn’t say you’d be here either.”

  Killian tensed and then comprehension slackened his expression. “She wouldn’t,” he muttered, touching the screen on his phone. “Or would she?”

  “Wouldn’t she what?”

  Instead of answering me, he put his phone to his ear and I could hear it dialing. I heard a click and the faint sound of a woman’s voice answering.