Hopefully, I’ll soon have a degree in forensic psychology. I’ve always been addicted to true-crime shows and serial killers, so I chose to study something I knew I’d enjoy rather than what I needed to. Also, I don’t know what I need because I don’t have plans. I’m not sure what I’d do with my degree career-wise, but I loved the course, and I’m confident I could make someone disappear and never be caught.
My life has been quite sheltered. Actually, it’s been very sheltered. I’ve never been to a proper high school or made many friends and mortal enemies, but I’ve met Guns N’‘n’ Roses, so none of that normal stuff matters.
“I’m sure I rocked the degree.”
“I hope so. I don’t enjoy wasting money.”
“You even noticed it’s gone?” I fire back.
“Will you notice if I take it from your bank?”
“Good luck trying to convince the bank you’re a nineteen-year-old girl.”
“My plan is to stop any further payments from being made to you.”
My face falls. Damn.
“You agree I win?” he asks. His mouth triumphantly tilts up at the side.
Not yet. I don’t want to give in yet. “I can live off of what’s in there.”
“Texas Knight.”
Full name alert.
You’re nineteen. That doesn’t have to scare you still.
But it does because you’re a baby.
“All right.” I hold up my hands. “You win. Happy?”
His smile widens. “Yes. Now, be downstairs in ten. The guys are coming over for pizza and beer.”
Ah, pizza and beer. It’s the start to every tour.
Enigma began the tradition back when they were playing in local social clubs, pubs, and bars. They still do it. Filthy Sound adopted the theme, too, because…well, pizza and beer.
“All the guys or just your lame band?”
I know the answer to this. It’s Filthy Sound’s tour, so obviously, they’ll be here, too, but I don’t want them to be. They’ve been locked up in the studio for months, so I’ve not seen Kitt since the Christmas party.
Dad’s eyes narrow at the mention of his band—or maybe it’s because I called them lame. “All. Now, hurry up, Texas. You’re on drink duty for that.”
My heart slams in my chest.
No, I can’t go downstairs if Kitt is here. He completely ignored the fact that we kissed, acting as if it’d never happened at all.
How am I supposed to be around him?
You can’t. You’ll make a tit out of yourself.
I raise my hand to my forehead. “But I’m sick, and I think it’s really serious. I should stay in bed because it definitely feels like influenza.”
“You’re fine. Get downstairs. I’m serious,” he replies, grinning like he just won another Grammy.
Dad leaves my room, and I know he’ll be up again if I don’t go. I can’t get out of this.
It’s fine. You’re okay. You can do this. Don’t stare at Kitt, and don’t let him know you’ve thought about that kiss every second since it happened. Don’t let him know that every day that passes without contact from him kills you a little bit more. Don’t let him know that you’re falling in love with him and terrified that your heart is going to be trampled.
Drink beer. Hide the sinking feeling behind a flawless smile. Be normal. Pretend you’re okay with being just a friend.
Laugh. Joke. Pretend, pretend, and pretend.
I take a deep breath and force that bloody smile onto my face.
KITT
MONDAY, MAY 4
OXFORD, ENGLAND
Mark had headed upstairs to tell Texas to come down, so we’d let ourselves into the living room.
Their house is massive, far too big for two people, but it feels like home. Pictures of Texas, from a tiny baby to now, are everywhere. She has an expressive face, always smiling or pulling a funny expression, and just by watching her, it’s hard not to feel like the whole world is okay.
If Cynthia, the housekeeper, didn’t clean it a few times a week or do their shopping, they would probably call for takeaway every night. Neither of them has any time at all for cooking.
“I’m starving,” Milo complains.
It’s been at least twenty minutes since he ate last, so of course, he needs feeding again.
“Think Cynthia’s been around today?” he asks.
“Jesus, man, we’re ordering pizza soon,” Cooper, the idiotic member of Filthy Sound, replies. I love him like a brother but Milo is definitely easier to live with. “I’m after the beer. It’s a damn shame Mark doesn’t have an open house. I didn’t get laid last night.”
Mark’s place definitely isn’t a party house—outside the seven of us anyway. It always pisses Coop off because the dickhead needs sex at least five times a week, and this is the place we usually hang out. But Mark won’t have shit like that around Tex regularly.
“Why can’t we order now? We know what everyone wants,” Milo says, sitting on the largest sofa and kicking his legs up onto the footstool.
Coop walks past him and pushes his head. He heads straight for Tex’s swivel chair. She won’t be happy that he’s sitting there, and that’s exactly why he’s done it.
Immature prick.
Wish I’d gotten there first.
I chuck myself down on another of the four huge sofas in here. Their living room is large but separated into two zones—a seating zone and a music zone. Beyond the sofas, coffee table, and TV are bookshelves, a long bench seat below the window that stretches the entire length of the room, and an awesome grand piano.
We’re here to start the tour off right. Our tour. My stomach is filled with electric excitement. I want to be out there now. This is what I was born to do, and we’re finally getting our shot at the big time.
Sinking back into the cushions, I flick on the TV. Let’s just get tonight started.
“Porn?” Coop suggests.
I roll my eyes and settle on one of the Fast and Furious movies. Cars and races. Safe for everyone.
Cooper runs his hand through the front of his hair, making me and Milo laugh.
“Beautiful, sweetheart,” I tease.
“You look gorgeous,” Milo adds in a feminine voice.
“Fuck off, both of you.”
I look at Milo. “Isn’t he precious?”
“Damn cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Coop growls and balls his fists. “I hate you wankers.”
Will and Jimmy, the final pieces of Enigma, walk through the door as we’re ripping on Cooper for playing with his hair. He’s worse than a teenager.
Will is Milo’s uncle, and that connection got us our first break. The second was Mark seeing our potential.
Mark spent hours, days, weeks, months with me, helping me hone my craft. I’ve never been shy or lacked confidence—I’m fucking brilliant—but Mark has taught me so much about the industry and my personal performance that I know I can’t fail.
I could never do enough to repay him.
Enigma is the reason we’re where we are today. This tour—our first tour—wouldn’t be happening without them. We owe them everything.
So, when I decided to kiss Texas at Christmas, I fucked up on a monumental level.
I don’t know what I was thinking. We’d both had a few, and she had been dancing around in this dark red dress that slightly flared out. It perfectly hugged her waist and breasts and showed off those killer legs. She doesn’t often wear dresses, so I was screwed from the get-go.
I had been turned on from the second I saw her. It had been torture all night. I couldn’t help myself. She had gone upstairs to her bathroom, and when she’d come out, I had been waiting. No one had gotten me that crazed with a kiss before. I’d never been so hard or so needy as I had been when her legs were wrapped around my waist, her hands all in my hair, and her mouth glued to mine.
Shit.
I rearrange myself while Milo and Cooper are saying hello to Will and Jimmy.
Thinking about that night gets me off quicker than any girl bouncing around on top of me.
Mark would do his nut if he found out.
I’m a dick. It was one drunken kiss, and as much as I wanted it, it shouldn’t have happened. Tex is one of the most amazing people I know, the best probably, and I can’t mess around where she’s concerned—not even if I know it would be mind-blowing.
I’ve not spoken to her about it, and she’s not mentioned it in the couple of times we’ve texted since. That’s for the best. We need to chalk it up to being drunk and move on. She’s not a casual shag. Mark would go crazy if he knew we’d kissed. I’m not ready for a relationship, so nothing can happen again.
Right now, I’m living the dream and enjoying the women who come along with that dream. There are a lot of them, and they’re always so eager to please.
“Kitt, what are you having?” Milo asks, looking over one of the pizza menus left on the coffee table. He knows exactly what he’s having and what the rest of us want.
“Meat feast—” I almost finish my sentence before Cooper interrupts by laughing, waving his fist back and forth in a wanking motion. “Really, dude?” I ask.
“You were thinking it, too,” he says, kicking his legs up on Tex’s footstool.
I deadpan, “No, I wasn’t.”
“You three need an adult with you at all times,” Will says. “Spoken to your mum today, Milo?”
He groans. “Tomorrow. Forgot.”
“Make sure you do, or I’ll get it in the ear, and I’ve had years of my sister’s whining, all right?”
Milo salutes.
“You idiots ready then?” Jimmy asks, flopping down next to Milo.
“We’re ready,” I reply for all of us.
We are. We are so ready for our own tour. This one is all about us even though I’m sure thousands of people will buy tickets because Enigma is supporting us. They sell out arenas in seconds and have to add dates to fit demand.
“Yeah, don’t think you’ll puke your guts up onstage?” Will asks, trying to psych us out.
“Once!” Coop snaps. “And I had food poisoning.”
It was a long time ago when we were playing in a pub. Still funny though.
“Food poisoning is caused by too much Jack?” I ask.
“Fuck you. It was the curry.”
“From three days before?” Milo says.
Coop narrows his pale eyes. “It’s not too late for me to leave the band. Then, where will you be?”
I smirk. “Performing on a clean stage.”
“I don’t need this from you tossers,” he hits back, scowling like a kid.
Milo laughs. “We’re definitely ready for this. And we’ll make sure Coop doesn’t drink too much before each show.”
I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready for anything. Since I was old enough to hold a toy guitar, I’ve wanted to perform. I grew up listening to my grandad’s old-school rock albums. When I met Milo and Cooper in high school, we formed a band, and I knew this was it. Whatever happened in my life, I had to play music.
It’s been a dream my whole life and not one I ever thought I’d achieve, but here I am. As soon as we started playing for parties and in small clubs, I knew we had to pursue it.
Then, Milo started talking to his uncle.
Enigma and Tex came to see us one night, and they all loved us. I gave them a demo, and a few days later, we were taken under their wing. Eventually, we were asked to be one of two supporting acts on their tour last year. It wasn’t like we’d turn that down. It was a pivotal time for our career.
We performed to crowds of thousands. It was one thing to have Enigma on board, but if the fans didn’t like you…
But they did, and then we were signed with the same label who’d snapped Enigma up twenty years before.
I crash back against Mark’s enormous sofa.
We’ve fucking made it.
Nothing compares to this feeling.
I hear footsteps outside the living room and look up.
Jesus.
I see her before she enters the room. She’s looking toward the kitchen and not in my direction, which is good since it takes me a few seconds to fully take in her beauty. It’s like being whacked by something really fucking hard every single time.
Texas is stunning.
She purses her full lips in the way she does when she’s thinking hard about something. Her hazel eyes look greener in this light. She runs her hand through her long dark hair, pushing it out of her eyes.
Then, she turns toward the living room, and I force myself to look away.
TEXAS
MONDAY, MAY 4
OXFORD, ENGLAND
I’d stomped downstairs, but by the time I reached the bottom, I was embarrassed by my behaviour.
You’re not seven. Get a grip. You’ll be fine seeing Kitt. You’re stronger than this.
Thank God no one saw me. I freeze and grip the chunky wooden banister when I hear his sexy, rough voice.
I might be strong, but Kitt makes me feel so weak.
Kitt is in the living room. His voice travels along the hallway. My heart instantly starts to thump hard. He gives me butterflies. Great. Why does that still happen even though I’m over the age of thirteen?
It’s okay. Just breathe. You don’t even like him anymore. He ditched you after the Christmas party. He’s the enemy now. The bastard enemy. You. Do. Not. Like. Him.
I step into the living room, and my mouth goes dry. There he is. Kitt Daniels, in all his perfect glory, is sitting on the sofa, his ankle resting across his knee, with his arm thrown over the back of the cushions. His brown hair is stylishly messy on his head, slightly shaved at the sides, and he has tattoos covering his skin. My body is instantly hotter than lava.
Okay, maybe you like him a little.
“About time,” Kitt says, smirking. His gorgeous deep blue eyes turn all logical thought to gibberish.
Kiss me.
The rest of the guys are talking about the tour, not even realising I’m now in the room, but they’ve been warned that when they enter our house, they have to keep the crude talk to a minimum. They never do.
I shrug. “Was busy.” Yep, I’m playing it cool. Totally ice-cold cool.
You kissed him, but it doesn’t matter because you only want to be friends with him anyway.
Even when I see his perfect come-to-bed midnight-blue eyes, sculpted jaw, cheeky smile, dimple, and light stubble, I still only want to be friends.
Definitely just friends.
“Hmm, a lot going on in Made in Chelsea, was there?”
Glaring, I show him my middle finger. “Bugger off.”
He chuckles. Damn, that sound. “I love it when you’re feisty.”
I squirm inside as his words go down south.
I’ve had sex with one guy before. It was a year ago when we all were home for about eight months. I’d tried to do the relationship thing, and for a little while, it was great. But I didn’t want him in the way I wanted Kitt, so I called it off before anything real started. Right now, I’m very much ready to see what Mr Daniels is like in bed.
“There’s my girl,” Coop says, giving me a Cheshire Cat grin that makes his light eyes shine. He’s on my chair, but I don’t care right now.
Jack Cooper—although the last person who called him Jack got a black eye—is Filthy Sound’s guitarist and joker of the group. I love him but in the only-ever-a-friend way. Don’t get me wrong, if he’s shirtless, I’ll be looking because the guy has an awesome body, but I would never go there.
“Cooper,” I say, returning his infectious smile.
He’s the guy who has the power to always cheer you up, usually by doing something stupid. But he’s funny, so I’ve never discouraged him from jumping out of a moving vehicle—at slow speed. I don’t want the dude to die—or from putting bulldog clips on his nipples. I was the one who had bought the bulldog clips.
“I’ve still not had my answer,
and, let me tell you, Tex, that stings.”
I smirk and tilt my head. “All right. If neither of us is married by forty, I’ll marry you.”
That’s likely, too, since Kitt is being an arse, and Cooper has never been on a date.
“Texas, beers,” Dad says from behind me.
“Dad, fine.”
I turn on my heel and walk into the massive restaurant-size stainless steel kitchen that’s ridiculous because neither Dad nor I can cook. We could chuck out everything but the fridge, kettle, and microwave, and nothing would change.
I grab the large cooler and open the freezer to pack it full of ice cubes. There’s no way I’m playing beer bitch all night. I’ll do one cooler, and then they’re on their own.
“Want a hand?”
I jump at the sound of Kitt’s voice and turn to see him leaning against the granite counter with his eyes firmly on my butt.
A hand with what exactly?
“Sure, you can start by looking at my eyes and then grab some beer from the fridge.”
He laughs and gives an innocent shrug. “But your arse looks incredible in those shorts.”
See? This is the rubbish that frustrates me. Is it just harmless flirty banter, or does he want more? Does he want to take me against that cold, hard worktop, like I want him to, or not?
I play along because that’s really all I can do. “Hmm, you should see it in my lacy French knickers then.”
His eyes bulge, and his mouth parts. It’s so sexy that I feel like I’ve been electrocuted down there.
I give him a look. “Seriously, Kitt, beers!”
He salutes, opens the fridge, and grabs a handful of beers. Silence falls over us, and it grates at my skin. I’ve never felt like that before. It’s usually comfortable.
It’s because you kissed.
Kitt doesn’t seem to care though. Everything is the same for him—the way he acts, how he is with me. Nothing has changed for him at all. It’s me who’s slowly going insane.
With the Band (With the Band #1) Page 2
