Page 82 of Lyric & the Heartbeats

“If we ever do.” Nohen chuckled and pointed.

Lyric returned her gaze to the couple and grinned. Amber was dragging Desi alongside her, bag thrown over her shoulder as she locked her car with a key fob. They disappeared through the sliding doors of the hotel, and Desi shot them a thumbs-up over her shoulder.

“Well, we won’t be seeing her until Wednesday.”

“Good. Maybe someone besides you can be late for bus call for once,” Henry commented and clapped Nohen on the shoulder.

Lyric chuckled as Nohen sputtered. “It was like, twice.”

“Three times, to be exact,” Henry corrected. “Be at the venue by…?”

Her and Nohen’s voices overlapped as they answered in unison. “Seven forty-five.”

“That’s right. Don’t be late,” he ordered, and arched a brow at Nohen.

“Okay! Okay,” he said, lifting his arms innocently.

When Henry was out of ear shot, and after Lyric had shamelessly checked out his ass in his painted on jeans, Nohen grumbled, “Someone so bossy shouldn’t be allowed to be that hot. It was only twice. Right? Twice.”

Lyric shrugged, ignoring the first comment. “I block Henry out most of the time. And that includes whenever he’s scolding you.”

His chuckle was light and bubbly. “I’m not the only one he scolds.” He deepened his voice and rumbled out, “Lyric, have you had water today? Lyric, did you take your suppressants today? What about food?”

Laughter rang out of her as they walked to the lobby. “Trust me, I know.”

But she had to admit her vocal cords were doing better than she expected, even with the extra strain put on them each night. And it might have something to do with all the water Henry forced on her.

But she’d never ever admit that out loud.

After spoiling herself to room service after the show, then a long soak in the giant tub in her room, she sighed and reached for her water cup only to find it empty.

“Dammit, Henry,” she muttered. It was all his fault she even had the damned thing. He’d brought it to her with a demand of, “Empty it twice a day, and if you drink a little more after, that’s even better.”

Lyric grabbed a pair of sleep shorts and pulled them on under her giant tee shirt before slipping into a pair of sneakers, grabbing the ice bucket and her room key, and leaving the room.

She grumbled silently the whole way to the ice machine, barely paying attention to the bland hallways and beige walls. The bright light from the ice room spilled into the hallway.

A thump and a soft grunt sounded nearby, and Lyric slowed. When it didn’t sound again, she continued on—

And pulled up short a few steps away.

She was standing in the middle of the hallway, feet frozen to the floor. Because right inside the vending machine room, Emerson was pushed up against the snack machine, his body eclipsed by Adra’s. Emerson’s hands were clawed on either side of Adra’s body.

Lyric couldn’t see Adra’s hands, but she could imagine they were fisted in Emerson’s shirt where he’d grabbed him and pushed him up against the machine only a few seconds prior to smashing his lips to Em’s. He tilted his head, and she heard them both suck in sharp breaths before their lips met again.

Lyric knew she shouldn’t watch. Knew she should turn her back and give them their well deserved privacy and try to forget how delicious they looked together. Emerson was always so… aggressive when he was with her.

And in every other situation so far, Adra was polite and quiet and… the man didn’t use cuss words, for god’s sake.

The idea of him pushing Emerson into the machine was more appealing than she was ready to admit. But part of her wished she’d arrived only a few seconds earlier so she could have witnessed the whole thing. She shook her head. No. Because then they would’ve seen her—

“You just gonna watch the game or do you wanna play?”

Lyric didn’t register Emerson’s breathless question at first. She registered their bodies pausing, Adra’s stiffening with tension, and she lifted her gaze from where Em’s big hands gripped at Adra’s sides to their faces.

Two sets of eyes were locked on hers. Emerson’s were filled with heat and want, while Adra’s embarrassment was overshadowed by the lurking, hopeful need that reached out to her like an invisible touch. It pulled her closer before she even realized, completely under the spell of the two of them together. Her hand clenched around the ice bucket, the plastic bag inside crinkling, and their gazes dropped.

Lyric knew she shouldn’t. Knew it was probably a bad idea. But all she could think of was that morning, the vision of Adra in that towel and nothing else. The way her hands had itched to reach out and touch.