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Me: We’ll be there.
Sienna
“Breathe. You’re not breathing.” Kael leans down so that his lips just brush the tip of my ear.
Taking a deep breath, I nod slowly, because it seems that’s all I’m capable of doing at this point. I take another deep breath, looking around, and as we walk further inside the expansive foyer of Reed and Brinley’s apartment, my eyes struggle to take in everything at once.
This place is like a Hollywood mansion. If we were in LA, of course. But we’re not.
So, totally not the point…
Rock music booms through the speakers. People are mingling around the vast space, including a couple of long-haired roadies with heavily tattooed necks that I recognize from rehearsal the other day.
Quinn, the bull-necked, bearded, and gloriously handsome guitarist, looks up when he notices us walking toward him. He’s slouched against a wall, a bottle of beer pressed to his lips. His hair is a mess, like he’s been running his fingers through it recently. He looks deep in thought, like his head’s a million miles away. The colorful tattoos on his arms stand out against the faded blue of his T-shirt that looks artfully aged with holes in just the right places. He no doubt paid a mint for it to look that way. Rich people, they’re a pack of their own.
Jaxon is sitting in the corner of a large L-shaped couch, dressed in tight jeans and a black T-shirt. He gives me an obvious looking over, but when his eyes meet mine, they appear more curious than anything else, and the tension in my stomach eases slightly.
Thankfully, everyone is dressed casually. I might not feel like I fit in with the gorgeous people, but at least I don’t stand out.
“Sienna, hey,” calls Brinley, and I turn to find her standing in the kitchen behind us. “I’m so glad you could make it. Reed, come here,” she calls out loudly, catching Reed’s attention. He’s standing just beyond the kitchen on an enormous balcony, grilling meat on the barbecue.
He hands the tongs to a guy sipping a beer and wearing a vintage biker jacket, leaving him in charge, and then makes his way inside. Thankfully, he seems pleased to see me. A potentially uncomfortable situation avoided.
“You made it,” he says with a quick chin tip.
“Thank you for having me. Your home is stunning.”
“It’s alright,” he says with a smirk. He rubs the back of his neck, jerking his head in Kael’s direction. “He’s behaving himself, yeah?”
I nod, and give Kael a quick sideways glance. He’s smiling down at me, and I can’t explain the full effect that smile has on me.
“So, you live in Manhattan,” Reed continues, sizing me up. I’m new to the group, I get it. It’s normal for him to be cautious in this industry. He’s got a shitload to lose if he gets caught up with the wrong crowd.
Why am I suddenly so nervous?
Reed Devlin is kind of intimidating, though. Good lord, his chiseled cheekbones are breathtaking, and don’t even get me started on his eyes.
“I grew up in Brooklyn, but I moved into the city once I finished college.”
“I grew up in New Jersey. My mom still lives out that way.”
“That’s nice.”
“So, you two are playing hide the wiener, yeah? Is that even allowed?”
“Reed!” exclaims Brinley, slapping his shoulder, making him frown down at her. “What the hell is wrong with you? I told you not to bring it up, and‘hide the wiener’? Who says that?”
Heat rises instantly in my cheeks.
I glance back up at Kael again for moral support and find him giving Reed a dirty look. “We’re both consenting adults. We can do whatever the hell we want.”
Reed rubs his arm, a deep V formed between his eyes. “Okay, first of all… calm your tits, Tink. What’s with fucking hitting me?”
“Sorry, babe.”
“You’re forgiven, but don’t do it again.” He kisses her lips briefly, straightens his shirt, and then shakes his head. “And second, I’m not denying that you’re both consenting adults. All I’m saying is… you two look good together. You know, cute and stuff. But don’t come crying to me when it all goes belly up.” He points a finger directly at me, and it’s only by the grace of God that it doesn’t hit me straight in the face. “Relationships are hard, and he’s never been in one before. Every chick he’s ever slept with ends up hating him the next morning or running to the paparazzi when he tells them he’s not interested in dating.”
My smile doesn’t quite stick. “Good to know.”
