Page 63 of Wild Obsession

“Mhm. Why don’t you show me that again?”

I lean closer, as though he’s not already in my lap, wrapping an arm around his waist and setting my chin on his shoulder. I can feel him smirking at me, but I’m too close to see it, so I get to play dumb and drape myself against him while he plays the rhythm again.

A few weeks ago, this would have been unthinkable.

When the tour started, I hated him. At least, I thought I hated him. I was covering up something scared and vulnerable, something I’d spent almost nine years refusing to face. But things changed as we made our way around the country, and not just for our bands. Things changed inside me. I let him in without realizing I was doing it. I won’t say it doesn’t still freak me out sometimes, but the joy is quickly overwhelming those pettier emotions. Waking up with him, falling asleep with him, casually touching him like this, living my life beside another human without being scared they’re going to betray me any moment — these are things I never thought I wanted, things I regarded as too scary and too dangerous because of the way others had hurt me in the past. Tim is changing all of that, one patient, freckle-filled smile at a time.

“You two ready to actually play or are we interrupting your date?” Erin says.

I look up to find everyone else watching us.

“Whatever,” I say. “As though you all weren’t screwing around too.”

“We—”

Jacob starts to say something, but then that huge security guy, Seth, comes into the room. Jacob’s eyes fly to that mountain of a human as he leans over to say something softly to Erin, who sighs dramatically.

“The vultures are circling,” she says. “Guess we weren’t as sneaky as we hoped.”

Groans ripple through the room. The tour did its job — both bands look like they’re going to be almost uncomfortably famous very, very soon, but that comes with consequences. We thought we’d been discreet in booking this practice space, but somehow the paparazzi found out, and now Seth and his team are going to have to bulldoze a way out for us when it’s time to leave.

“Great,” Jacob says. “And here I am in sweatpants.”

Seth glances toward him. The guy’s face is like stone, so the flicker of his eyes is all the indication he offers that he disagrees with Jacob’s assessment of his appearance, but it’s enough that I have to bite back a smirk. Seth works for both bands now as the head of an increasingly large security team, so maybe Jacob’s man-climbing dreams will come true after all.

“We’ll deal with it later,” Erin says. “I’m sure Seth and his team have it under control.”

The big man nods in agreement.

“Let’s focus on practicing, okay?” she says. “We came here for music, not for whatever those vultures want.”

We go back to doing what we all do best, and soon everyone forgets about the paparazzi waiting to ambush us…

Which makes the flash of several cameras and cacophony of shouted questions all the more jarring when we do leave the practice space and try to get home. Seth and his guys form a human wall around us, ushering us into cars, and I cling to Tim’s hand to drag him with me to the safety of the car.

“I’m never going to get used to that,” Tim says when we escape.

Me neither, but if it’s the price of making music beside the man I love, it’s a price I can live with.

I SIGH INTO THE quiet of my apartment. It still reeks of “single guy,” even as I lead Tim inside. I haven’t had time to do anything about the fact that I never decorated it, not with both our music careers blowing up at the same time. Before all this, I never thought about anyone being here for more than a night. I never thought about them hanging out, leaving a toothbrush in my bathroom, noticing the lack of art on the walls. I would drag a guy inside and kick him right back out without ever even turning on the lights.

Yet another thing in my life that has changed for the better because of Tim.

I’m not saying I didn’t have fun, but it’s different havingTim follow me into my tiny efficiency apartment and go right to the refrigerator to retrieve the leftovers he helped cook the night before. He knows where to find the utensils and how to work the microwave, and for some reason that sends a thrill through my chest that all those fun, exciting one-night stands can’t begin to compete with.

We take turns showering while the food heats, then cozy up on the couch with day-old Thai food and an action movie I’ve seen three times. We sit needlessly close, thighs pressed together, shoulders bumping when we laugh at the dumb action antics on the screen.

For a moment, this cozy scene wavers like a mirage. It sometimes feels like someone else’s life. It can’t possibly be my life, obviously. Keannen Summers, cuddling with a boyfriend like some sort of normal, domestic guy? That’s pure fantasy.

Yet when I set aside my food and wrap my arm around Tim, he’s warm and solid and real. I kiss the top of his head, and he chuckles and sets aside his mostly eaten meal as well.

“You okay?” he says.

“Do I not seem okay?”

“You seem ridiculously content and happy. That’s why I’m asking.”

I snort a laugh. If one thing makes this feel real, it’s that Tim perfectly understands how strange it is for me. He’s both the source of the problem and my tether back to sanity.

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