Page 63 of Rockstar's Fake Engagement

I arch a brow. “You expected me to suck?”

She rolls her eyes. “Of course not. I just meant you’re really, really good. How do you do that for hours?”

“Years of practice.” I kiss her quickly. “And a lot of ice packs.”

When we finally make it to the car, Lacey’s still buzzing with energy. “I get it now,” she says as I pull onto the highway. “Why you come alive up there. It’s like... it’s physical and emotional all at once.”

I glance at her, struck by how perfectly she’s described it. “Yeah, exactly. The rhythm gets in your blood. Everything else just... falls away.”

“Even me?” She’s teasing, but there’s something else in her voice.

“You’re part of it now,” I admit, reaching for her hand. “When I’m playing, I can feel you watching. It changes the energy.”

“Good changes?”

“Definitely good.” I bring her hand to my lips. “Everything’s better with you here.”

The truth of it hits me as I say it. Everything is better with her—the music, the laughter, even the quiet moments like this.

The drive home is silent and comfortable, both of us lost in our thoughts of the day.

When we reach the house, I turn to her. “Walk with me?” I ask, heading out the sliding glass doors to the beach. “After intense rehearsals, I sometimes need to decompress.”

She smiles, understanding. “And this is where you do it?”

“Mostly, sometimes I just get in my car and drive.”

The cooling sand shifts beneath our feet as I pull her close, her body fitting perfectly against my side. The sunset paints her skin golden, and when she turns those dark eyes up to me, full of warmth and something deeper, I almost forget to breathe. The waves crash behind us, but all I can focus on is the way her fingers trace patterns on my chest and how her breath catches when I brush my thumb across her lower back.

“You know,” She breaks the comfortable silence. “I used to think I knew what passion looked like. I mean, I’ve played opposite some of the most talented actors in Hollywood. But watching you today...” She shakes her head. “That was passion.”

I pull her close, walking with my arm around her waist. “How so?”

“It’s pure. Unscripted. In acting, everything is directed—every expression, every movement. But you...” She stops, turning to face me. “You were on fire… and free.”

A slow, dangerous smile spreads across my face. “Yeah?”

She groans. “Don’t get cocky about it.”

I chuckle. “Too late.”

“I’m learning more about you, Nate.” She lowers her voice, studying me. “I knew you were private, knew you hated attention. But the way you are in the studio? The way you command a room when you play?”

Her voice drops even lower. “I didn’t expect that.”

I swallow hard. It’s not like I don’t hear compliments. People tell me all the time that I’m talented, that I’m good. But this is Lacey.

The last rays of sunlight catch in her hair, making her glow.

“Maybe that’s why this works,” I say, gesturing between us. “We ground each other, and yet we’re both still free to be ourselves.”

She laughs. “Very poetic for a drummer.”

“I have hidden depths.”

“That you do.” Her expression turns serious. “Thank you for sharing this part of yourself with me today. For letting me see the man behind the curtain.”

I brush a strand of hair from her face. “Thanks for wanting to see it.”

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