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His friends were like ghosts, lurking in the hallways with their laughter and their music. And he couldn’t play there anymore, because he felt like he was living a lie.
Who was he without Oblivion? Without the people who’d helped him become who he was? Just a guy with a guitar, that’s who.
But he wasn’t going to keep pushing her. If she wasn’t ready to have him around full-time—or if she thought she wasn’t, which equated to pretty much the same thing—then he would just stop nudging her for more.
That was what had driven away Simon, wasn’t it? Or at least what he’d claimed had helped to drive him away. Nick had never been content to leave things as they were, and he’d lost his best friend and his band over it.
He wasn’t going to lose his girl too.
Carefully, he nudged her hips upward and pulled out his cock, wincing at the pull of her flesh. He so didn’t want to leave her body. Him and Nick Junior were in total agreement there. But she had work, and he had a new—and unusual—
student coming over in a couple hours. Now wasn’t the time for this discussion.
Maybe it would never be the right time, and he’d just learn to live with that.
“Off to the shower you go,” he said, inclining his chin toward her alarm clock when she didn’t move. “You’re going to be late.”
She didn’t even glance at the clock. “I don’t want you to think I don’t want to live with you.”
He didn’t say anything. How was he supposed to reply to that?Oh, I know you desperately want to cohabitate, you’re just keeping it on the downlow. That’s why you try to change the subject or divert me every time I mention it.
“Because it’s not that.”
“Okay.” He slipped back from her as it became obvious she wasn’t going to move and sat against the headboard. “I’m meeting with Michael today.”
Her brow furrowed. “Meeting with him for what?”
“He signed up for a lesson.” Nick jerked a shoulder. “I think he might just be yanking my balls, but whatever, I said yes. I know he’s important to you.”
“He’s having trouble switching off between lead and rhythm guitar, since Molly’s stage routines keep getting more and more elaborate. Ryan’s the jack of all trades in their band and he can play guitar as well, but he’s trading off as their drummer too since they can’t find anyone who fits.” She sighed. “Michael’s used to watching bands like Oblivion with two guitarists and he’s chomping at the bit now that Molly’s not playing as much anymore. He knows I won’t start booking them more dates beyond local stuff until they’re ready to cut a five-song EP, and right now, they just aren’t. Not quite yet.” She tilted her head. “You don’t mind helping him out?”
“I don’t mind helping anyone who you love.” At her steady glance, he heaved out a breath. “It’ll be weird. I don’t like playing with new people, and no matter what he says, he’s going to be critiquing me as much as learning. Maybe more. But this past year has taught me I can’t wallow in my inadequacies.”
“You don’t have any inadequacies.”
“So says the woman who just benefited from my endurance and amazing skills between the sheets.” He flashed her a grin he didn’t entirely feel and rolled out of bed.
Her hand on his back stopped him.
“I love you.”
Those soft, careful words were his undoing, as always. He didn’t speak, didn’t move.
She slid her hand over his shoulder and he reached up to grip it, needing the link as much as she did. He gave her a squeeze and kissed the tips of her fingers, then rose to pull on his jeans.
Time to throw something together for breakfast. Not one of her muffin-smoothie combos. Something simpler, like cornflakes and milk.
Halfway down the hall it occurred to him that maybe he shouldn’t be breakfasting with her either. Perhaps she needed some space. By that token, having Michael meet him there for his lesson or whatever the hell it was probably wasn’t sending the right message either.
The lines between them had blurred, and maybe he needed to make sure they were clearly defined.
The shower turned on, and he imagined walking down the hall and leaving her to get her own breakfast. She wouldn’t, because she was in a hurry. Probably wouldn’t even take enough time to mix one of her protein drinks. She’d start her day all wrong, and he’d feel partially responsible.
Not gonna happen.
So their lines were a little curvy. So fucking what.
In the kitchen, he dragged down the box of cornflakes and splashed in some milk. He took a couple mouthfuls before he pulled out some fruit and threw it in the blender with some skim milk and that powder crap she liked and turned it on high.
