Page 86 of Forbidden Lyrics

“She wasn’t thinking about it. She’s already decided. Right, Dove?” Fen interjects like a solid nosey younger brother.

I bristle before peeking up at Gibson. My knees go weak almost instantly, and my annoyance at Fen’s remark transforms into more hurt. More pain. More embarrassment. But I don’t know what to say.

“Are you?” Gibson prods.

“I…”

“Dove…” Fen reprimands, his voice daring me to argue.

I shoot him a glare, then turn back to Gibson. “Would you be angry if I said yes?”

The bags under his eyes make my chest ache before he rubs his hands over his face. “No, Dove. I wouldn’t be angry. You didn’t come over for the writing session.”

“I didn’t know I was still invited.”

He sighs, stepping closer and dropping his voice low. “Can we… Can we talk?”

“I’m gonna get back on stage,” Fender informs us. He slaps his hand against Gibson’s shoulder with a little more force than necessary before skipping up the stairs, looking lighter than before. Like maybe my mess of a life is a good enough distraction from his, and I kind of hate him for it.

Lucky jerk.

“I should probably get back to work,” I mutter before reaching for the same damp towel that’s still where I left it.

“Sammie’s covering for me, and you haven’t taken a break yet.”

Surprised, I tilt my head to one side. “You noticed?”

He scoffs. “You have no idea. Can you give me five minutes? Please?”

I stay quiet, and he takes full advantage of my indecision by pressing his hand to my lower back. “Come on.”

We make our way down the hall and through the back exit that opens into a small alley. It’s empty, and I’m not sure about our lack of buffers out here.

He was right. We shouldn’t have crossed that stupid line. I should’ve been happy with the label he’d placed on us. I shouldn’t have pressured him. We shouldn’t have kissed. I should’ve––

“Dove.” He says my name like a plea. A prayer. With a reverence that shouldn’t make my body hum with anticipation, especially after everything he put me through, but it still does.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” I mumble, rubbing my hands up and down my bare arms. The moon is still shining, casting shadows along his chiseled features. It makes him look more handsome. More untouchable.

He steps closer, and a piece of gravel skitters across the asphalt. My focus zeroes in on it.

If only I could skitter away from this situation, too.

“Dove. Listen to me, okay?”

I shake my head but stay quiet.

He tries again. “Dove, I’m sorry––”

“Don’t apologize. I told you to use me––”

“I wasn’t using you.”

“I told you to chew me up and spit me back out,” I argue, still avoiding his gaze. “I asked for it. Honestly, I begged you to. I was stupid. I should’ve known––”

He grabs my chin and forces me to look up at him. “I had no intention of using you for sex, Dove.”

Then why did you? I want to ask, but I bite my tongue.

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