Page 51 of They Break Beauty

At least not without doing some damage myself.

Time to hit back.

I watched Colton’s firm, sculpted ass moving in his black leather pants that were basically painted onto his skin. He had a skull and crossbones scarf looped through the belt, the way it was falling at the front highlighting a particular attribute. The way he moved was so sleek and fluid, like a jungle cat—a puma, maybe. He had a metallic silver tank on that was partially sheer and both of his tattoo sleeves were in full view.

I hadn’t allowed myself to notice it so much before because I’d been so worried about the Levi bullshit, but… hot damn… he was really something.

I forced myself to look away and I focused on my surroundings instead.

The place was a multicolored neon heaven, the bar stools, the tables, even the fairy lights hanging around the edges of the window frames green, pink, orange neon. Everything was bright and bold and edgy—perfect for a college haunt.

He finished serving a group of girls, flashing them a movie-star-worthy smile, then came back to me and leaned up against the bar again, shoving his elbow onto the bar top and resting his head in his palm in a relaxed yet flirty way. “So, have you made your decision about the duet yet, cutie?”

“Maybe you haven’t plied me with enough alcohol yet.”

“I definitely haven’t. That’s still your first and you’re only halfway through it after a whole twenty minutes of you being here.”

Yeah, I needed to keep my wits about me.

“Aww, my bad.”

He grinned. “You know, I don’t think I need to be doing that, considering I’ve caught you checking out my ass several times when I was serving customers.”

I brought my glass to my lips to hide my guilty reaction and took my time having a sip.

He kept his gray eyes on me the entire time in playful challenge, cocking an eyebrow expectantly for my confirmation.

When I put the glass down, I gave it back to him, “As if I haven’t caught you staring at my boobs too many times to count.”

He slapped his hand over his heart. “I’m wounded, cutie. That’s such a pessimistic way of looking at it. I was merely admiring that dress.” He gestured at my pink and black glitter mini-dress with the flared sleeves that I’d paired nicely with a pair of knee high black studded boots.

“Well, it is definitely worth admiration,” I jested.

“The way you wear it is where the admiration’s at.”

“Wow, you’re laying it on thick. You really want this duet, huh?”

“I do, but it’s not just about that.”

I cocked a highly skeptical eyebrow.

“Nah, I like you. You’re growing on me with our every additional interaction.”

“That’s high praise, especially when you have a whole campus worth of fans available to you. It doesn’t exactly fit with your Maverick moniker either.”

“Well, you’re one of the few who’s talked with me like I’m actually a human being and not some fake fantasy they usually only tend to see. It’s either the Maverick thing or the frontman of Mythic Cry rockstar dream they see.”

I frowned. That was… heartbreaking.

“It seemed like you reveled in all of that.”

“It might sound like bullshit, but it’s my music that I revel in, losing myself in it when I’m songwriting or letting go up on stage. The rest… the admiration… it can be nice in small doses, of course. I know how to work it. But keeping up that image all the time… it gets a little much.” He shrugged. “But who am I to complain? It’s a small price to pay for success, right?”

“In a way, but it doesn’t mean you have to settle for a life you don’t entirely want. I didn’t.”

“No?” he asked, looking all curious.

I took a sip from my drink, then told him, “I reinvented myself and now I’m a far cry away from what I grew up with.” I blew out a breath. “And I’m trying to keep it that way, despite some stubborn interference.”

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