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“You know, I’ve heard you sing, Gem…”.
“At a goddamn drag show,” I retorted, but he shook his head.
“And karaoke. But the location doesn’t matter,” he said. “Drag show. Street corner. The goddamn bathroom. The only thing that matters is that you’re really fucking talented.”
“You think so?”
“I know so,” he said and set his laptop down beside his hip and got off the bed to grab my guitar.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing,” he said and sat down on the edge of the bed and strummed a few chords and grinned at me. “Will you play me something?”
I shook my head and laughed. “Nice try, Leonard.”
“C’mon, Gem,” he said. “It’s just you and me. No one else. Plus, you already know I love your voice.”
“You do?” I asked and he nodded.
“I do.”
“What do you want me to play?”
“Anything,” he said and handed me my guitar.
“Okay,” I said and took a deep breath as I adjusted the guitar in my lap. “I’ll play you a little something I’ve been working on for the past few weeks.”
“You write your own music?”
“Sometimes.” I shrugged. “When I’m feeling inspired, I guess.”
His responding smile was all the confidence I needed, and before I knew it, I was strumming my fingers across my guitar and playing Leo a song I’d yet to title.
It was about a girl who didn’t know what she wanted. A girl who was trying to find her place it the world. A girl who was me.
Leo just sat beside me, watching with rapt attention as I sang each word, each verse, and strummed each note with my fingertips.
When I reached the end of the song, nervous butterflies filled my belly as I set my guitar down beside the bed. The scariest part about singing your own songs was that they were a piece of you. Like, you were just handing your soul to someone on a silver platter, without any guarantee they’d accept it with warmth and love.
It was always so terrifying.
I looked at him from beneath my lashes, and I watched as a slow, tender smile kissed his lips.
“And you thought my hot nerd glasses were a distraction,” he muttered, and his smile grew wider. “Good God, Gem, you’re so fucking beautiful all the time, but when you sing, I can’t feel my own body. Everything, everyone…the whole world except for you goes numb. That song was beautiful.”
His words hit me straight in the chest, hard and swift and nauseating, if I was perfectly honest.
They were too much. Too intimate. Too real. Too encouraging on something I’d been trying to tell myself wasn’t an option for far too long.
Tight-lipped from uncertainty, I had the odd urge to shield my face from his steady gaze.
But Leo didn’t need my focus or my words. Instead, he reached out and pulled me into his arms to take what he needed from me himself. “Thank you,” he whispered against my mouth. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”
“You’re welcome,” I whispered back. Little did he know, he’d just given me everything I’d never known I’d needed and more. I couldn’t stop myself from leaning forward and pressing my lips to his.
Full and warm and soft, his lips were the perfect after-dinner treat.
He responded with fervor, and when his hands went into my hair, I moaned.
He just felt so good. He always felt so good.
Before I knew it, we were fused to one another and tumbling back onto my bed.
My clothes, Leo’s clothes—they were a meager memory.
Leo Landry was the real deal. And Leo Landry loving me from the inside out? I’d never known a better, more intoxicating feeling in my entire life.
Cam turned up the radio as we pulled away from the party and smashed his hands in rhythm against the steering wheel.
I laughed as he sang along to “Walking in Memphis” like a drunk college girl, despite being the sober driver of the evening.
We’d been guests at a charity event, along with a select few others from the team—basically, whatever guys weren’t busy—and Cam and I were getting closer by the day.
I’d never have imagined I could be such good friends with a guy like him—that I’d have stuff in common with someone so much older than me—but it became clearer every day that this would be the kind of friendship that lasted a lifetime.
The offbeat, off-key, god-awful sound of his voice only reminded me of the sweetness of Gemma’s, and when he finished belting out the chorus, I reached out to turn the volume knob back down to human levels.
He grumbled good-naturedly, but I dove right into conversation to take some of the sting out of the offense.
“So, how long have you known that Will Chambers guy?”
“Will? The manager at Monarchy?”
I nodded. We’d met him earlier that evening while mingling with the crowd, and Cam was chummy from the get-go. It was obvious they’d crossed paths more than a time or two, and Monarchy was one of the hottest stage-bearing clubs in Manhattan. From what I’d heard, even Ellie Goulding had performed there before becoming famous.
