Page 71 of Final Serenade

“You can’t listen to those demos,” I warned.

“Why not?” Ashton pouted.

“Because they’re demos,” I explained. “Because those songs aren’t finished and aren’t meant to be heard.”

“What difference does it make since it’s already online?”

“It makes a huge difference. Respecting the artist, for starters.” I was too wound up to go on with my explanation, but I was mainly just upset. The leak had cut my vacation short.

“But people dig it.”

“You’re not listening to those demos, Ashton. End of discussion.”

“Buzz killer.”

“You’re not listening to the demos,” I repeated myself, dragging my bags to my room one by one. “Or I’ll tell Frank and he’ll revoke your backstage pass.”

“That’s blackmail.” The slam of my door cut off Ashton’s complaints. I didn’t want to socialize with my brother. Or anyone, for that matter. I needed sleep and I needed to clear my head.

The muffled rattle of my phone somewhere between my sheets woke me up hours later. Frank’s name lit up my screen.

“You have this stupid habit of calling me when I’m asleep,” I said groggily.

“I can call again tomorrow,” he offered, his voice a sweet murmur on the line, sending pleasant shivers down my spine.

And just like that, I was a bundle of nerves full of sizzling want. I was wide awake. “No. Right now is perfect.”

“I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

“You’ll have to find a way to make it up to me next time we see each other.”

“I will.” His tone heated.

I was hot and bothered and it was my own damn fault. I needed to defuse this conversation a little before he drove me to the point of no return. I didn’t want to end up masturbating myself back to sleep with Ashton in the living room. I changed the subject. “Did you figure out where the leak’s coming from?”

“Not yet, but we have a couple of leads.”

“Will you be able to take the songs down?”

“Probably. But not all of them. Even if we do, someone will upload the material later again. It is what it is at this point.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine now.” He paused. I felt his anxiety and his fears. Things weren’t going according to plan. Then came the words. “Do you want to stay at my place for a couple of days?”

The question startled me, shook me to the core. Thiswasmoving fast. We were like an express train that was going nowhere. “You mean like a sleepover?” I tried to sound light, but my mind was heavy with racing thoughts.

“Yes, a sleepover. It’ll just be the two of us, naked, and I’ll make sure I have tons of soy-free and gluten-free ice cream and crackers.” His tone was suggestive, sexy. Desperate. He wasn’t asking. He was begging.

“I don’t want to be in the way.” The Forum shows were only a few weeks away. He probably didn’t have a lot of free time.

“And all seven seasons of Game of Thrones.”

“Eight.”

“Wait, there are eight?”

“Looks like I have to get you up to speed.”

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