Page 21 of Diva Pop

“I know booze is off the table as an afternoon refreshment.” Jett took a surreptitious peek at Silas’ reaction. He wasn’t disappointed. The pinched together eyebrows and pursed lips spoke volumes. “But as astounding as it may seem, I also have bottled water -- and, gasp, coffee.”

“Mmm, yes. Shocking.” Silas indicated to one of the sofas. “May I? And water will be fine, thank you.”

“Sparkling like me? Or dull and flat like Paul and Crispin?”

“Sometimes dull and flat is preferable, so I’ll go with that.”

Jett huffed. “I see. You’ve got a boring fetish.” He turned on his heels then glanced over his shoulder. “That’s not what I heard.”

After dropping that bomb, Jett made his way to the kitchen. He had bottled water in the mini-fridge under the bar, but he needed a minute to compose himself. As he opened the almost empty refrigerator, he wondered how horrible it would be to let his guard down. It had been so long since he’d had a truly open and honest conversation with anyone he wasn’t sure he was capable of it anymore.

Jett chewed on his bottom lip as he removed two bottles then set them on the counter. He considered the second bottle he’d retrieved for himself. Unconsciously, he grabbed it to impress Silas, to show him he was trying to follow his advice and take care of himself.

Jett frowned as he dragged one finger down the side of the cool bottle, creating a barely discernible trail of condensation in its wake. What was this weird compulsion he had about impressing Silas? And for the most inconsequential things. Water? He was losing it.

After sucking in a deep breath, Jett made his way back to the living room, prepared to face Silas as client and manager rather than bitchy pop star and sworn enemy.

It could happen.

“Here you go.”

Jett handed one of the bottles to Silas, holding in a moan when Silas’ fingers brushed against his own. The electric attraction between them needed to stop. He wasn’t a fool, he could tell Silas was hot for him. However, the fact that Silas possessed oodles of self-control and Jett didn’t, meant his original seduction plan would never fly.

Silas locked eyes with him. “Thank you.”

Jesus. How could such an innocent comment leave him breathless? Jett snorted to himself. Maybe Silas was hypnotizing him with his seduction superpowers.

Jett kept his tone even. “You’re welcome.”

In a continuing demonstration of good behavior, Jett sat on the loveseat across from Silas instead of being flirty by choosing to sit next to him. He also had to admit that it might be in his best interest to remain face to face, to at least attempt and interpret Silas’ typically unreadable expressions. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d experienced such a disadvantage.

“So…” Jett cracked open the cap on his bottle. “When I said I was done earlier, I didn’t mean, you know, the band or you or anything. I meant…” What had he meant? Jett sighed. He supposed it wouldn't literally kill him to share something personal about himself. “Okay, this is me being real. When I get so stressed out or angry that I don’t know what to do…”

He shifted his position as he set down the bottle. His hands were trembling enough that he didn’t want to spill the water all over the buttery soft leather of his sofa.

“I, uh… Well, to put it simply, I walk away. Or, more accurately, stomp away.” He chuckled shakily. “I short out when I’m in the moment, can’t think straight. I need distance to work things out in my head.” As usual, Silas’s features remained flat. “Does that make sense?”

Silas’ expression softened and Jett’s heart skipped. That was a good reaction, right? At least he hoped it was.

“That’s what I assumed, but I needed to hear it from you directly. I appreciate the honesty.” He smiled and Jett’s heart thumped harder. “And yes, it does make sense. Is there anything from your background that you think causes that reaction, or have you always been wired that way? No judgement, just trying to figure out how I can best serve you.”

“Serve me?” And blech. Backgrounds. He was so over it.

“Yes. As I’ve tried to make you understand, I’m not your enemy. I’m not trying to bring you down. One of my main functions is to lift you up.”

“Right. But at least one of the others is to make the label happy, which might equate to tearing me down.”

This time, something else clouded Silas’ features that Jett couldn’t interpret. It didn’t make sense, but it was as though Silas was experiencing pain over Jett’s statement. As quickly as the moment arose, it passed.

“Fair enough. But in my strong opinion, lifting you up will also make the label happy.”

Silas leaned forward and folded his hands on his knees. Jett had begun to recognize the action as Silas’ ‘I’m being fucking serious right now’ pose.

“I’ve been hesitant to shower you with praise, Jett. Not because you’re undeserving of it, but because you actively fish for it all the time. You don’t leave room for anyone to offer up their appreciation of you or your talents. As a result, most people’s human nature makes them want to hold it back. They figure you’ve already done the heavy lifting, so why bother? In turn, you end up feeling rejected and unappreciated. Then that eventually becomes anger and frustration.”

To Jett’s horror, he started tearing up. The fuck?

He sniffed. “I guess you’re my therapist now, too? I’d ask the label for a raise.”

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