Page 93 of Reverse

“It’s a little small. I guess I just expected bigger.”

“Wow, Easton Crowne skirting around a question?” I pull some panties from my delicates drawer and toss them into my case. “What you really want to ask is why I’m living in seven hundred square feet when my parents are well off?”

“Pretty much,” he says.

“Because . . . we have more in common than you think.” I tuck some bras into the zipper bag. “I maxed out my AmEx to go to Seattle, remember?”

He nods.

“Well, that’s because wet-behind-the-ears college graduates don’t get high spending limits. I, too, intend to fully earn my way. I live on the salary I make at the paper, not off some trust fund. I will admit, like you, my parents still attempt to and often spoil me pretty damned rotten.”

His probing stare trails me as I grab my amenities bag from my bathroom and start to load it into my suitcase.

“You didn’t say anything,” he whispers softly.

“No, I didn’t.” I pause with a T-shirt in hand, “I was having a hard enough time with,” I gesture between us, “you know.”

“Who’s skirting now?” He dives in—relentless in his pursuit of the truth—as I roll up the T-shirt for the second time and shove it into my suitcase.

“I didn’t think it was that important.”

“No, don’t backtrack. You didn’t want to highlight how much we had in common.”

“Easton,” I sigh, “make no mistake. I am happy to see you. I do want to hang out with you and watch you play, but we can’t go further than that. After this weekend—”

“You won’t even answer my fucking phone calls,” he quips coldly. “So, it’s pretty safe to assume I’m wasting my time with that.”

I nod solemnly.

“Like I said,” he sighs, “we can argue about this later.”

I cross my arms. “All that means is that you’re not hearing me.”

“What makes you so fucking sure I’m here forthatanyway? We only hooked up once.” He shrugs. “You’re being mighty presumptuous.”

“I . . . oh,” my neck heats as I drop my gaze to my overpacked suitcase. A low chuckle rumbles from where he stands, and I glare at him while he runs his teeth along his upper lip.

“You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

“Yep, but don’t worry. I’m not in the business of forcing my will on women who won’t even bother to pick up the phone for me.”

“I wanted to answer,” I say. “I really did.”

“I saw, but you didn’t.”

I wrangle more clothes into my suitcase as he pipes up, mirth in his tone. “We’re only going for two days. You do know that, right?”

“I like options. So, how do you like the band?”

He grins, seeming thoroughly amused by my abrupt change of subject, but he allows it.

“All of them have some years on me, but I don’t consider it a bad thing. Every one of them is crazy talented.”

“That’s awesome.”

“Yeah. So far, the gamble’s paid off. They play my originals just like I laid it out, but if it all works out and we decide to move forward, we’re going to collaborate on the next album, and I’m really hoping it works out. It’s definitely an eclectic mix.”

“Uh oh, you want to give me the rundown so I know what I’m in for?”

---