Page 13 of Rocks You Like a Cabernet

Wild.

Twenty-four hours ago if anyone had asked me what my feelings were towards the man, I would have given them an earful. I would have tThe unthinkable has happened. A phenomenon that I will forever be thinking about.

I like Henrik. He’s a good human.

Wild.

Twenty-four hours ago if anyone had asked me what my feelings were towards the man, I would have given them an earful. I would have tarnished that man’s name and then thrown him under the bus, my loathing for him was so strong.

Now I can’t stop laughing.

With him. At him. In spite of myself. He’s just…fun. Witty and joyful.

Once I came to terms with the knowledge that I’d been holding a misconstrued grudge, all the negative emotions that I had for him disappeared. Well, maybe they didn’t disappear but the power they held over me lessened. I was able to look at him in a new light.

And dare I call him a friend now?

“Okay, seriously, seriously,” I begin, reaching for the bottle of wine on the table to fill up my empty glass. “What did happen in Warsaw? The media reported that you were in a fight but I can’t see you coming to blows with a bandmate. Not unless you caught them with your girlfriend.”

I try to look coy when making the statement but must fail when he looks over and I try to hide behind my glass.

“No girlfriend. Not for a long while. And if you promise to keep another one of my secrets, I’ll tell you.” I nod eagerly, desperate to know and hold another part of him close. “I ripped my pants.”

“No!” I’m so shocked that I kick my legs out in the air, laughing hysterically.

“Yes. The leather pants I was wearing for the show were a little too tight in all the wrong places if you catch my meaning.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively. “After the encore, I bent down offstage to pick up my water bottle, felt my pants split down the bum, and then proceeded to fall over like a fucking fool trying to cover up the rip. I wobbled and ended up taking Nate with me. And as luck would have it, a photo was taken at the perfect angle so it looked like I was clocking him. The poor lad was just trying not to smash his head against the speakers.”

A smile is still on my face but at the mention of a photo being taken and posted with the incorrect context negative emotions wash over me. I know exactly what that feels like.

“Hey now, why are you looking sad all of a sudden? That’s one of my more hilarious stories from the road.” Henrik makes himself comfortable on the edge of the chair I’m resting on. Not caring that now his feet are tucked under my leg. This feels oddly intimate. Nice.

“Sorry,” I ran a hand across my forehead, trying to shake the weird mood that descended. “It’s just that I know exactly what that feels like – the media making you out to be something, someone, you're not.”

“Are you talking about your last breakup?”

I make a rude noise, not able to stop how ridiculous that notion is.

“We did not break up. There was nothing to break up. Chad and I were co-stars, nothing more, but the idiot made some leading remarks during an interview and then everything blew up. He gets labeled a new up-and-coming star and I get the title of former. Former star. Former lover. Former rom-com movie queen. No one’s taken me seriously for over a year. This series was my chance to try something new. Shake off my old titles and rise again.”

“Fuck’em,” Henrik says, jumping to his feet and reaching for the almost empty wine bottle. He takes a swig before reaching out for my hand. I don’t hesitate. Slapping my hand in his, he pulls me up to standing.

I teeter, but catch myself quickly. Damn, how much wine have we had?

“Fuck’em,” he cries again, spinning me into his open arms. The bottle hits my elbow but the sudden shock of pain fades quickly in the joy of the moment. “Say it with me! Fuck them!”

“Fuck them,” I yell out, feeling empowered. “Fuck them! Fuck all of them!”

“See, you were born to play the role of Adelina, Princess of the Eastern Mystic Realm,”

“Northern,” I correct, tipping my head up so I can look at him.

“That one too.” The grin slowly slips off his face as he gazes down at me. His look is unreadable, but I can feel its power. “Fuck them,” he says softer this time. “You can do, be, whoever the hell you want. Don’t let the fucking paparazzi make you think overwise. You’re a fucking moonbeam. A princess. And the brightest star I’ve ever seen.”

Oh no.

I like being his friend. I do. But as we continue to stare at one another, something in my chest builds. It expands and courses through every vein, every fiber of my being. Some part of me wants more. I don’t know when I decided that, but it’s true. I want more from him.

“Bryn.” His thumb runs along my jaw, and I drop my gaze to his mouth. “Shit,” he groans. “Tell me this isn’t what you want. Tell me this is crazy.”

---