Page 113 of Don't Bang a Bandmate

Christian presses his lips together, highlighting that pair of deep dimples on his chin. “You’re intimidating as fuck, Jordan Peck.” He tilts forward slightly. “Don’t tell me that’s the first time you’ve heard that.”

“It’s not.” I shake my head. “But I’ve never heard it from… someone like you.”

“Well, you are. But I can’t think of a nicer trait in a woman.”

Warmth tickles my cheekbones. “Is that right?”

“That and a willingness to kiss on the first date really puts her ahead,” he hints.

I swallow a rock of nerves building near my throat as Christian steps forward, bridging the short gap between us. For a moment, he stands tall, nearly a full head higher than me, and gazes down, the lamps on the walkway illuminating the sea green texture of his eyes.

He leans close, close enough for my nose to tickle from his cologne, and then pulls away, his mouth arched in a teasing smirk.

“Not yet,” he teases. “Let’s keep going.”

We continue down the path, passing a few other couples along the way. Some of them perform double-takes, their casual tones lowering to hushed whispers behind us.

“That was Chris Myers!”

“Who?”

“From Cobraville!”

“Oh, shit. Really? Who was she?”

“I don’t know!”

Each time, Christian smiles wider. And hey, who could blame him? He went from being on the top of the charts to tabloid fodder almost overnight. For him to get the chance to begin anew, to rise from the ashes and reinvent himself... Not everyone gets that.

“Tell me about your track with Dade Connery,” I say on the path. “If you’re allowed to say anything about it, I mean.”

“Oh, it’s wild!” Christian says. “Like nothing I’ve ever recorded before. And Dade, man! Dade’s incredible. I just wanna crack open his brain and pick at all the secrets inside. He’s a genius!” He glances at me, his eyes straying toward my smile. “But tell me something first. Why the hell did you let Criminal Records pass on his album?”

“Because contrary to what people might think, I actually have very little control over what they do.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“It’s true! It’s up to them to decide what they want to do and where they want to spend their time. It’s my job to make it happen. In this case, they received an offer. They said no, and that’s that.”

“But...come on.”He arches a brow. “You think they should do the album, don’t you?”

I bite my tongue, the situation loaded with factors outside the realm of should or should not. “I think they made their decision.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Christian pauses on the path again, and I halt my stride, too. “Do you — the great Jordan Peck — think they’re doing the wrong thing?”

I tilt my head, curious. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m just curious,” he answers. “Hell, everyone is.”

“Everyone?”

“People are talking about it more than they are about my solo album, so yeah. Everyone.”

“That’s not true.”

“It’s true enough.” His eyes narrow slightly. “Be honest, Jordan. Don’t you think they’re making a mistake?”

“A mistake? No.”

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