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“Do you?” I laughed, a broken sound in the fast falling night. “You’re one of the most sought out rock stars in theworld, Xoan. I just– I can’t even start to understand that. I came to you for a job, and not the one you offered,” I whispered, strangling my portfolio until the cheap plastic protested in my arms.
Xoan watched me, tracing his tongue across the piercings in his bottom lip. “You’re a scholarship student, aren’t you?”
I closed my eyes, and the partial lie came all too easy.They did approve me, after all. “Yes.”
Every year, Rippton U, the most exclusive college in the western half of the United States, located in California, took in a dozen scholarships students. Sometimes less, never more. A school where the students funded their own tuitions out of a personal tithe, ones their parents didn't have to pay as the students’ accounts were overflowing with privilege and entitlement.
I wasn't from that nest, and without Lance’s support that would shortly be cut off–I was surprised he hadn’t already–the best I could do was study, try to make connections, and get a solid job under my belt before graduation in three years.
Three long years where scholarship students were either shunned or targeted as incomparable to the rest of the student body. My new world outside the safety net of privilege. A safety net that came with a monster of its own.
I’d been so freaking stupid to apply to this college and think I could get away with it because my art waspretty.
My mouth murmured the words as I accidentally broke my silence.
“It’s more than that.” Xoan’s knuckles brushed across my forearm leaving pebbled skin in its wake. “Your art is perfect. Beautiful. Like you.”
“Aren’t you smooth?” The tart words slipped from my lips and I winced. “I’m sorry. I have an asshole factor going on tonight. I’d be better left to my own company.” I started to walk again, heading for the doors to the dorm tower where I lived on the second floor.
“I was a dick to you back there. No wonder you left.”
I shook my head. “It wasn’t what you said that made me leave, it was your words.” I winced the moment those ones fell out too. “I’m–”
“Don’t apologise to me, Indi.” Xoan caught my shoulders in broad, strong hands, his fingers digging in with just the right amount of pressure to halt me and draw my attention to him without resistance. “I abandoned you after screwing us both so bad last time.” He stepped forward, his gaze dropping to my lips. “I spent every song envisioning you, wishing I kissed you before I went out. Then I came back and you were gone. Why?”
I shrugged, but I couldn’t dislodge his hands. Nor did I mind his touch on me. “I told you,” I lied crappily.
His lips curved in a smirk. “Now I know you can’t lie, you’re an excellent artist, your silences are comfortable and you’re a fabulous fuck.”
I laughed, the sound slipping out unbidden. “You should make a song out of that.”
Expression slipped from his face. “I wrote one after. When I came back. I sat in the seat where you were and I wrote after your words.”
I swallowed hard. “That’s why I left.”
“Because you added to my song? It was a fraction of a thought, Indi.”
“Yeah?” I challenged. “Why write it on my piece of paper?” His lyrics ran through my head.
No second chances, no going back.
Kiss and hide, touch and fade,
I’ll have you once and I’ll run forever.
He stopped again, running his fingers along the guitar straps crossed over his chest. “You thought I wrote it about you. I did.”
“Yeah?” He was an asshole.Great going Indi. “Maybe you should have taken that kiss when you had the chance.” I wasn’t prone to tantrums but I had to get away from him before I slapped him or did something stupid like kiss him again.
No second chances.
This wasn’t a man who came back for more. Not once, not ever.
His hand curled around my arm and he halted my flight. “I did write it about you, but not because I wasn’t coming back. I wrote those words because I want you, Indi. Every damn night. I haven’t been about to get your taste out of my head, getyouout of my head.”
“It was just sex.” The lie wavered on my tongue.
“Bullshit,” he snapped and ran his fingers through his hair that glistened like it was still damp from sweat or maybe a shower after the gig. “I finished the song, Indi. I found you because I wanted to sing it for you first.” He swallowed and his gaze darted across my face. “It’ll be raw and jerky and I’ll fix shit as I go but...”
