AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Can we please keep it together, you two? We’re almost there,” Asher murmured.
“I’m starting to think you don’t even want to record an album. You don’t want to grow up. You want to play the same songs to the same crowds until you keel over onstage,” Blaze accused her.
The color drained from her already-pale face.
“How dare you? My songs come from my heart, not churned out on some factory assembly line by two douchebags who could never even understand my music in the first place!” Giselle exclaimed passionately. “You know what? Screw this. I can get there faster on foot than in this stupid freakin’ traffic!”
With that, she all but kicked the door open and burst out into the middle of the jam-packed street.
“And she’s gone,” Asher groaned. “We were so close.”
“She’s insane. Insane!” Blaze shouted.
Cars were honking like crazy at Giselle as she waded toward the sidewalk. He could feel that volcano erupting inside of him. He was angry—at the drivers for honking at her, at Giselle for somehow finding his one vulnerable spot, and at himself, for not handling it all. Suddenly, he just acted on impulse. He had to make this better.
He went after her.
“No. No! Blaze!” Asher shouted after him, but it was too late.
Blaze went darting through the crawl of multi-lane traffic and ran to catch up with Giselle on the pavement. She was marching, fists balled at her sides, toward the next block where the Hot House recording studios were located. He grabbed for her wrist and she whipped away from him with flashing, furious eyes.
“Don’t touch me! The last thing I need is another tabloid photo derailing my career!” Giselle snapped.
“Don’t act like you’re so innocent,” Blaze leered. “You knew what you were doing that night—with that dress and your fancy makeup.”
“You think that was for you?” she shot back.
Blaze scoffed. “Who the hell else? Don’t tell me you dressed up like that for yourself, because you never wear that kind of thing.”
“So you’ve been noticing what I wear?” she provoked him.
“How could I not, Giselle? Your style isn’t exactly subtle,” he replied.
“Do you like it?” she teased, getting closer and standing on tiptoe. Like she could possibly threaten him at five-foot-two.
Blaze didn’t back down. He glared back, matching her intensity. Her body warmth rolled around him, hotter than the heat wave. He could feel the tension in her stance, in her face, in the very air crackling between them. Overhead, the sky rumbled.
But that couldn’t be right. It was sunny earlier.
“You confuse the hell out of me,” Blaze growled, shaking his head. “What do you want, Giselle? Do you want me to like how you look? Or do you want me to be a professional? You can’t have it both ways, so take your pick.”
Something wet dropped down his cheek. Not a tear, but a drop of rain. Followed by another, then more. Giselle and Blaze stopped to gaze up at the sky. It was still sunny, and yet it was raining. In Los Angeles. Though it was only rain, it felt almost supernaturally rare.
Underneath all his cynicism, a voice questioned, What does it mean?
