Rebecca whirled around, rising up onto her toes. Cupping her mouth, she bellowed. “Marty! Over here!” Even with her waving her arms to grab their attention, it seemed like they hadn’t heard. Almost instantly, both Marty and Cooper were stopped, Aidan and Troy ducking behind them before escaping into the crowd.
Before I could reconsider, I called out. “Cooper!” Just one burst of sound—his name—a whisper in sea of voices. Yet he heard. Not only did he look up, but he knew exactly where we were, our eyes meeting. The intensity in his stare robbed me of breath, causing my nerves to sparkle with electricity. The carefree smolder he always seemed to exude on stage was still blazing off him, transforming the friend I couldn’t stop looking at as someone more to the rock star force of nature that captivated everyone around him.
Rockstar Cooper or every day Cooper.
Or how about simply my Cooper, came the traitorous voice inside my head. To make matters worse, my heart thudded extra hard in perfect synchronization with the dip in my stomach. Being around him—having him in my life—it was becoming less about needing someone to talk to who understood what I’d been through, and more about . . .
I couldn’t even bring myself to think it.
With an apologetic smile, Cooper turned back to Marty and murmured something in his ear, pointing our way.
It was as natural as breathing—stepping forward to meet them halfway, but Rebecca had a different plan. “Don’t think I’ve forgotten you owe me an answer, Caylee Sawyer. Enjoy tonight, because first thing tomorrow morning, you’ve got some explaining to do. Capiche?”
There was no point arguing. In fact, if truth be told, I had a sinking suspicion if I survived the rest of the evening without having a complete hormonal meltdown, I’d be confessing a lot more than just my usual denial. I’d gotten pretty good at providing a variety of excuses when it came to dismissing my growing attraction to Cooper.
Especially the terrifying realization that maybe—just maybe—Owen would approve. If I was going to fall in love with someone, why wouldn’t he agree to the man he considered his best friend?
Fall in love.
“Well that escalated quickly,” I murmured, desperately trying not to drown in the thoughts bombarding me. What I needed more than anything was a distraction—anything but how I felt.
True to form, like she’d somehow read my mind and was suddenly my fairy godmother granting me wishes, Rebecca showed just how impatient she was. While Marty hadn’t given her a reason to act territorial, something about the small group of women flirting with her boyfriend triggered a response.
A very public, heated, blush inducing reaction.
Crossing the distance between them, Rebecca wasted no time throwing her arms around him, giving a little hop so she could then wrap her long legs around his hips. She didn’t even wait to answer his surprised murmur before she dragged his face to hers for a kiss that put the fiery intensity of Chernobyl to shame.
It was the kind that screamed you look away to give them even a speck of modesty and privacy.
Yet, it demanded you stand there and bear witness to its undeniable power—a kiss that made you want to grab the nearest person to you, just so you could try and recreate its magic for yourself.
It was a kiss that left you desperate . . . yearning . . . somewhat empty when you realized you weren’t the lucky one currently under its influence.
There was no faulting Rebecca for once again taking what she wanted—of not holding back—of not caring what others thought.
I loved her for it.
A sliver of me hated her for the exact same reason.
She held that confidence I wished I had. At the very least, both her and Marty came with a lot less history and heavy baggage. They didn’t have grief in common or the loss of someone they both loved dearly. With a clean slate, they had the one thing I hadn’t realized I’d wanted—a chance to simply be. To take chances. To be foolish. To give in to those warm and fuzzy emotions without fear that each caress and look would be a reminder of death.
“Do you think they’d notice we’re gone if we left?” Cooper’s breath was warm against my ear. I’d been so caught up in coveting the relationship my roommate and her boyfriend had that I hadn’t heard him approach.
“I guess it depends on whether they come up for breath soon,” I answered, enjoying how close he was. How was it even possible he could set my skin tingling without touching me? “Wanna lay a wager? Loser buys the winner a beer?” Or something else, I silently added.
“Hmm,” he drawled, rubbing his lips with his fingers as he assessed the situation. Before he could speak, however, we were interrupted by two eager fans—hopeful females wanting to draw Cooper’s attention to them.
With one look at them with their mouths curled into flirty smiles, I was tempted to throw myself at Cooper—Rebecca style—even if it meant being rejected and held at arm’s length. He’d been adamant we would only ever be friends, but what red-blooded man refused a woman willing to shove her tongue into his mouth, even if it was mine?
This growly side of me was new. There’d never been a reason to get jealous or feel threatened when I was with Owen. I was his and he was mine. We must’ve radiated that sentiment, because in all the time we were together—dating and then married—no one had ever stepped forward, challenging our love.
Or—and there was a good chance this was why—it was simply because we’d only had eyes for each other.
From what I’d seen hanging around Cooper, and the stories I’d heard the other guys tell, he had an eye for everyone. If you had boobs, smelled nice, and smiled pretty, there was a fair chance you could become another notch in his proverbial bedpost. He didn’t discriminate when it came to sex—a real equal opportunist.
He’d been somewhat tame of late, opting to go home early, saying his leg hurt him. Either he really wasn’t the horn dog I’d assumed after catching him with his pants down that first night, or he’d learned to be more discrete.
I knew which one I hoped was true. It was easier to succumb to guilty fantasies when it wasn’t always right before my eyes.
Like right now. Did these women really think it was appropriate to press her breasts against his arm in some lame attempt to flirt? It was difficult not to roll my eyes and snort openly. It was also hard not to cock back my arm and sucker punch the bitch. What would he do? More importantly, what would these girls do if he didn’t react how they wanted?
Just how far would they go for some alone time with Cooper Hensley, sexy lead singer for Damaged Souls?
Closing my eyes for a fraction of a second, I could already feel a lump in my throat forming, a chant forming in my mind.
Don’t do it. Don’t do it. Please, God, don’t let him leave me standing here alone.
The pleading tone made me cringe. I was sounding less like myself and more like a needy schoolgirl, infatuated with the school’s star quarterback—a boy way out of her league. There was no ignoring their intent now, each girl finding some excuse to brush their fingers over his arm, to lean in close as if they were intimate. Whether the spectacle continued was solely in Cooper’s court now. By his word, they would leave disappointed or triumphant.
It took me a second to truly register what happened next. As his arm snaked around my waist, tugging me back into his frame, he gently placed his other hand on my hip like it was something he frequently did.
Like there was nothing surprising or weird about the way our bodies fit perfectly against each other or the way my neck relaxed, my head resting back on his chest. All I could imagine was if someone took a snapshot of us at the precise moment, we’d appear like a couple who’d been in love for a lifetime, completely comfortable in letting the world know it.
The lump in my throat grew bigger, making it nearly impossible to swallow without wincing.
I shifted awkwardly, unable to fully believe this was actually happening. His fingers tightening at my hip, the pressure searing through my clothes like a hot bran
ding iron, confirmed I wasn’t dreaming.
Cooper had not only pulled me into his arms, but he wanted me to stay there. A slight push against his grasp didn’t break his hold.
I. Was. In. Heaven.
“Thanks for the invite, but I’ve already got plans for the rest of the night,” he said politely, trying to smooth over the now disappointed floozies. Keeping my expression neutral, I decided to play along with the ruse he’d created, tracing my fingers back and forth across his bare arm. When goose bumps rose over his skin, I squeaked over the evidence that I’d affected him that way.
Caylee - one.
Hussies - zero.
“Hope you guys enjoy the rest of the festival,” I added, smiling sweetly. My thoughts were anything but amiable. Tilting my head back, I stared up into Cooper’s face. “Ready to go, babe?”
Where the hell did ‘babe’ come from?
If it bothered him, he didn’t show it. If anything, he took it as some kind of signal that I was okay with his subterfuge. “I’m always ready.” And with that, he did the one thing that held the power to unravel everything—my senses, my ability to stand, my ability to hold any kind of rational thought.
The bastard nuzzled into my neck, feathering his soft lips lightly over my pulse—the irrefutable proof that not only was I affected by him, but that he’d thrown my entire body into chaos.
Who was I kidding? My toes were curling, and I was seconds away from moaning out loud.
Things were spiraling out of blessed control. Wonderfully. His mouth still hovered over the side of my throat—forcing my body into high alert. It was almost embarrassing how responsive I was from one simple kiss and nibble.
Damn, he was grazing his teeth now.
What the hell was happening?
“Evening, ladies.” Marty’s masculine voice broke through whatever craziness was building between Cooper and I. Neither of us had let go, even as the reluctant fans retreated, leaving our original group of four alone. Heaven help me, but I pressed my bottom gently against Cooper, unable to control myself.
He was definitely affected. Absolutely. It was hard to ignore, pun intended.
“Ummm, guys?” Rebecca spoke up next. The glint in her eyes said it all—she knew. She’d known all along. She’d just been impatiently waiting for me to admit it to myself. Before she could make some teasing comment, I shook my head sharply, silently pleading she’d let this go. “I don’t know about you, but I am starving.”
Cooper still hadn’t moved, though he’d stopped torturing me, my heated skin finally given a chance to cool. “Do you want to stick around longer, or would you rather go somewhere else to eat?” Rebecca was the one who’d declared her hunger, yet his question was directed to me.
I want to finish what we just started. “I’m fine with whatever we decide.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew I’d taken the coward’s road again. He stiffened behind me, and then to my dismay, Cooper cleared his throat, dropping his arms, effectively releasing me. Without waiting for my response, he stepped around me—the same old, familiar distance back between us.
Smiling through my disappointment, hoping against hope it wasn’t displayed across my features like a neon sign, I ignored Rebecca’s concerned scrutiny. I was good at pretending. Maybe he shouldn’t have lied and gone along with those girls.
The very thought made me want to vomit.
In the blink of an eye, I soared as high as the clouds, flying amongst the stars, only to plummet to the ground. “I think . . .” Suddenly, my tongue felt too big for my mouth.
“How about we walk and decide?” Rebecca offered. My grateful smile might have been small, but it was genuine.
With his arm across her shoulder, Marty looked on, oblivious to what had transpired. “Sounds good to me.”
Cooper remained quiet, his hands shoved into the front of his jeans pockets. I was such an idiot.
We’d barely walked a few yards before someone else called out. “Yo, wait up!” Expecting Troy or Aidan, nothing prepared me for the tattooed guy jogging toward us. I instantly recognized him. This could go one of two ways—I either managed to remain cool and calm, or—more likely—I was about to be reduced to a stammering, squeaking fan girl who could barely form a sentence to save her life.
Joy.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Cooper greeted, obviously friends with the lead singer of Wasted Malice, Cian Black. Wasted Malice had started off the same as Damaged Souls, exploding in popularity after an epic performance two years ago at Coachella. It had catapulted them into the spotlight, opening doors to more exposure and opportunities. Shortly afterward, they signed a record deal and had launched into a huge national tour.
Wasted Malice was the epitome of everything the Damaged Souls could achieve. They had the same potential and raw talent. They also had a sexy-as-hell lead singer. My crush on Cian was a mixture of lustful appreciation and an inability not to swoon when I heard him sing.
Yet, despite my initial reaction, standing here in his presence, he seemed so . . . underwhelming.
Cian slapped Cooper’s shoulder, nodding at Marty. “I don’t mean to hold you all up, but you guys kicked ass out there today.” He glanced around our group, pausing ever so slightly when our eyes met. Once upon a time, I’d have melted a little, but there wasn’t even a flutter in my chest. Nothing.
“You caught our set?” Cooper seemed surprised.
“I did, and we definitely need to talk.” In one smooth movement, Cian pulled out a business card and handed it to Cooper. “I’ve got a possible business proposition for you guys. If you’re interested, that is.” He smirked, apparently pleased with his cryptic invitation.
Turning the card over in his hand, Cooper would’ve been a fool if he weren’t at least intrigued by the offer. “When’s a good time to call?”
Cian shrugged. “Anytime, man. If I don’t answer, just leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can.” Rubbing his hands together, his gaze darted passed us to a middle aged man, gesturing for him to come. “Give me a call. I’ll explain everything then.” He nodded his farewells to me and Rebecca—who could’ve caught flies with her mouth gaped open the entire conversation—before stopping to shake Marty’s hand. “Seriously, you guys were fucking tight.”
Exchanging a few last words, Cian Black left as quickly as he’d come.
“You do know who that was, right?” For someone who’d said nothing the entire time, Rebecca’s voice bordered on giddy hyperventilation.
“No, who?” Marty teased, pulling her in and kissing the side of her head.
“Be serious! Tell me the lead singer for one of the biggest bands around didn’t just say he had a proposition for you.” She felt exactly the same way as I did—it seemed too surreal.
Marty wasn’t done having a little fun at his girlfriend’s expense. “The way you said that . . . proposition . . . it sounded dirty.”
“I have a mental list of every dirty thing I’d like to do to that man,” she admitted, not realizing what she’d revealed and to who. “Ask Caylee. She’s got quite the imagination.” By deflecting the focus off herself, she’d effectively thrown me under the bus.
“Do tell,” Cooper said, the husky sound sending shivers through me. The butterfly sensation I’d expected earlier with Cian magically reappeared, further convincing me that something had changed between Cooper and me.
“Forget it,” I countered, glaring at Rebecca. There was no way I would ever voice those things out loud. Ever. I was already regretting the temporary insanity that had convinced me confiding in my roommate was a smart idea. “I’m the boring one, remember? There’s no such list.” That much was true. I didn’t have a lust list for Cian any more.
I had started a new one for someone else.
Him.
“There’s nothing boring about you, Caylee.” His compliment held added heat. He was doing it again. Whether he meant it or not, whether I was misreading the signals, Cooper Hensley was messin
g with my heart. And I did nothing to stop him.
“Do I get to see your list?” Marty whispered loudly, causing me to laugh. Here I was in turmoil, and he was oblivious, fixated on Rebecca’s list and whether he would get to cross each one off.
“Maybe. If you’re good.” There was a soft, gooey, tone to her response. Rebecca gently placed her hand over Marty’s chest, the possibility of another make-out session between the two increasing. “I’m sure I can be convinced.”
Cooper coughed loudly. “So, food? Yes or no?”
When he couldn’t get either of them to answer, he looked my way.
I wasn’t ready for the day to be over. “They can catch up or find us later. I could definitely use a drink.”
Relief flooded his eyes. “Me, too.”
Walking side by side, close but not like before, the rest of the night was filled with constant conversation and laughter.
Rock-A-Palooza had been more of a game changer than I’d thought. I hadn’t imagined the way the crowd had reacted. All that was left was to figure out whether it was a good thing or a bad thing.
Or a mixture of both.
Chapter Twenty-One
Cooper
Thump. Thump. Thump.
The pounding in my head was relentless as I groaned, the severity of my hangover headache overshadowed only by the nauseating sourness in my gut. I’d endured these before, too many to keep track. Once upon a time, I’d maybe lie here in the warmth and comfort of my bed just a little longer—at least until I could tolerate the thought of getting up.
I was a pro at the fine line I usually straddled between a drunken mess and sober enough to function. After years of learning how to nurse myself back to some resemblance of normalcy, something had happened last night to throw a wrench into the works.
“You’re a fucking idiot, Cooper,” I moaned, desperately trying to ignore the way the sun streaming through the cracked curtains seemed to sear a blast of agony across my bloodshot eyes. I didn’t need to look in the mirror to know the aftereffects of my impromptu drink fest.
Bittersweet Melody Page 20
