“I don’t want to be seen as some diva.”
“Being comfortable doesn’t make you a diva,” Manny said. “It keeps you sane.”
I don’t know if he’s right, but the muted olive, soft cream, and dusty rose match the comfortable tour bus my mom designed.
And the vanilla-orange candle?
It smells like home.
Warm. Grounding.
Only, I’m not sure I want to feel grounded right now.
Not when adrenaline is still surging through my veins.
Not when my cells are vibrating at a frequency only other musicians can hear.
My friends keep joking and talking when the door opens, and the caterer brings in warm pecan pie and ice cream.
I get up and walk to the opposite end of the room to grab some water and electrolytes, while the others surround the food table.
And that’s when I run into Patty, reaching for water right next to me.
I give a tight-lipped smile and twist open a bottle.
“Hey, good work tonight.”
“You too,” he says. He clears his throat, like it’s dusty from disuse. “You sounded good.”
“Thanks.” I take a sip. “And thanks for the quick thinkin’ with that spare pack. You saved my butt out there.”
“That’s what you pay me for.”
And just like that, I can’t keep the professional distance with him, because he’s so aloof, it drives me crazy.I’msupposed to be the aloof one.I’mthe one who doesn’t engage in conversations with people who might see too deeply.
Why is he so much better at this than I am?
So I don’t say anything else. I stand at the table, opening a packet of electrolytes. I dump it in my water, screw the cap back on, and shake to blend.
And you know what else I do?
I don’t move.
He was four inches from me when he reached for his bottle, and I’m sure he expected me to back up.
I didn’t.
Course, neither did he, so looks like we’re back in that same staring contest we keep playing.
When my electrolyte mix is a hundred shakes past blended, I unscrew the cap and take a drink. And then the best thing happens.
Patty blinks first.
CHAPTER EIGHT
LOU
“How was the sound?” Patty asks.
