AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Just hang tight for a minute,” he says.
I grab my phone off the nightstand and check the weather report from a few different places. Tornados aren’t frequent in Pennsylvania, but tell that to the anxiety flooding through my veins.
Benji comes back into my room with a lit candle. He sets it on my bedside table before lighting one more and placing it on the dresser across the room. I give him a small smile.
“Thank you.”
Without a word, he leaves, and I lie back, my legs still dangling off the bed. I pull my phone to check the storm warnings again, my logical mind trying to calm the irrational part of me. Like it will work.
The sound of hail resumes, and I’m about to look out the window again when Benji comes back through the door. He has an armful of blankets and a pillow, and he jerks his head for me to go with him.
“Grab the candles.”
I give him a look, but he keeps walking down the hall, so I jump up and do as he said before following after him. He’s waiting by the open door to their music room, and he tips his head for me to go in first. I spin around when he shuts the door behind us. The candle light flickers off his face, shadowing the sharp edges of his features, and my stomach flips as he walks toward me. He drops the blankets when he reaches me, his eyes on mine.
I swallow, my breathing picking up. I’m about to say his name. Ask what he’s doing. His fingers brush mine as he takes one of the candles from me. Then the other.
We stand there for another few seconds in complete silence.
“Well,” he says.
My eyebrows lower, and I shake my head, not sure what he’s expecting from me. I feel floaty, like I can’t think of anything but the way the air between us heats from the candles he’s holding.
Then he whispers, “Listen.”
Nothing. No wind or hail or rain. Barely even a soft purr of thunder. I start to smile, and I look around at the walls, covered in black panels.
“The room is soundproof. No scary storms in here.”
I laugh because he’s right. My anxiety all but evaporated when he shut the door, and I hadn’t even realized why. He sets the candles down and gives me a smirk on his way back.
“Still think I’m a jerk?” he asks.
I nod, but there’s no bite behind it. “All musicians are jerks.”
“Every single one.” He shakes out the blanket and lays it on the floor in the middle of the room, the only place void of cables and equipment. “Lucky for me I’m a manager now, huh?”
I plop down on the blanket, and he gives me a glare.
“Who said that was for you?”
This time, the pillow hits him in the leg, but he swipes it away before it hits the floor and tosses it back to me. He also tosses the other blanket over my legs before settling down beside me.
He put on a shirt at some point, hiding some of the tattoos he’s gotten since we were in high school. They still cover parts of his arms, and I catch myself staring at the eighth note on his neck. His first tattoo.
“Why are you managing bands though?” I ask.
He chuckles, stretching out his legs and bracing on one arm, facing me. “Why are you curating for rich fucks instead of painting?”
It hits hard in my chest for a second, but I know he means no harm. “The truth?” When he nods, I look down at the blanket and find a patch on the quilt to pick at. “My parents. The surgeon and defense lawyer expected more out of their daughter than trying to make a ‘hobby’ into a career. So, we agreed I could go to school and major in art so long as I found a professional career in the end.”
“And you haven’t painted in…” he trails off, and I look up, finding a cocky half-smile.
“Too long,” I answer softly. “I just don’t have time, and soon…”
“Soon you’ll be in Ecuador.” His jaw tightens when he says it.
I nod and then admit, “I haven’t told them yet. About moving.”
