Page 62 of The Comedown

We reach the top level and I put her on her feet, keeping a hand on her back so she’s still in my reach.

“So much for you getting some air,” she says, looking around us. “There’s not even roof access up here.”

Honestly, I didn’t know that until now, but I’m not about to give myself up. This is enough air, so instead, I say, “I wanted to be alone with you for a minute.” Which is true. Even if someone follows us in here, we’ll be gone by the time they reach the second floor. No pictures, no story.

I can be myself and Collette can…relax. I want to know her smiles are smiles I put there, not ones forced because she knows we’re being recorded.

“You know what I like best about performing with you?”

Collette lowers herself on to a stair, saying, “If you had to carry me four flights of stairs just to tell me, I probably don’t want to know.”

“Your ass.”

One of her six-inch heels kicks out so fast I have to jump back to avoid being pierced by it.

I guess relaxing is out.

“I’m just fucking with you.” I take a seat next to her, leaning back to put an arm behind her. “I mean, it’s great, don’t get me wrong, especially when it’s floating on my cock.”

Her gaze shifts to my crotch and I have to fight the urge to cover myself with both hands. She wouldn’t…would she?

“Is there a point in the near future? Or am I going to die in this deserted stairwell waiting for you to—”

“It’s your smile. Everything you do out there, you smile through it like you’re having the best time of your life. It’s so fucking contagious.” It’s so fucking addicting. Maybe too addicting because I’m already hooked and we’ve only done three shows together.

The smile on her face stretches wider as she turns to face me, and I know without a shadow of a doubt, that baby’s real.

“I thought I made weird faces when I’m singing, at least in the pictures I’ve seen.”

“Nah. Not weird.” Not to me. “I want us to do tonight every night.”

Her smile dips.

“The show. I want you to stay after your set’s done and help me with mine. Every night.”

“You don’t understand. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. My vocal coach will probably kill me for tonight alone. I can’t sing that much in a night without my voice rebelling on me. I’ve had my voice go out from overuse before.”

I thought singers losing their voice was an urban legend. I’ve never had any issues and I smoke like a chimney on a cold, winter night.

“It’s not worth risking it,” she says, then winces. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean like that. I just…it’s a lot, Julian.”

I know. I fucking know. But she asked what I needed from her, and this is it—her. I never want to perform again without Collette by my side. It’s…not the same.

“You don’t have to sing.”

“If you’re looking for a backup dancer, I have four and any one of them would jump to add your name to their résumé.”

“I’ve seen ’em. They’re good. I don’t want them though.”

“I can get you some other names,” she says, trying to shut the conversation down by not meeting my eye anymore.

I scoot my ass to the edge, turned toward her, and place a hand on her back as I cage her in, hoping she’ll listen to me even if she’s not willing to look at me.

“I don’t want other names. I just want to see your smile while I’m performing my set. I don’t care what you do. You can dance, sit your ass in a chair, or even mime for fuck’s sake. Just…be with me. Out there.”

Through the fingertips tracing over her ribs, I feel her breath heave inside her lungs even though she stays tight-lipped.

It’s not a no. It’s not a fucking no.