Page 46 of Just My Type of wrong guy

Because even though I forget that A.J. is work sometimes, I remember at some point. I always remember.

“I think it was,” I hum, sitting down on the other side of the island.

“You know what? I think about your kiss since the Paris show,” A.J. says seriously, his voice low and raspy, walking toward me. “And maybe I really wanted to kiss you today during our song.” He runs his thumb over my bottom lip, and his intense eyes on me make me cross my legs, but I play along.

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.” His big, precise hands move down from my face and stop at my waist, pulling me closer. “And I could kiss you now, if you begged me and all, you know... there’s that condition.”

Oh my God, what a hot man.

“I can beg,” I say, surprising him. “But I won’t be able to go to your house when we get to New York.” My words make his hands pull back to his body. “I won’t turn you into a fling, A.J., you’re work and my friend. I don’t want to ruin that with sex.”

He raises his hands, his eyes burning me.

“You’re the one who brought up sex,” he jokes with a cheeky laugh, and my cheeks burn. “But I don’t see why a kiss would ruin things.”

“Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past few months is that with you, it’s never just a kiss,” I say, placing my hands on his chest and pushing him away. “And I don’t want to lose the best thing the tour gave me.”

“Alright then…” He shrugs. “You know, we wouldn’t ruin anything, I’d resist. But you didn’t even beg…”

I shift in the chair because my body obviously wouldn’t come out unscathed from a guy like him, with that size and that charm. And he steps back with an awkward and sly smile at the same time.

I’m a freaking warrior.

“Of course, you’d resist, A.J., for sure.”

I roll my eyes, and we laugh so loud that Thalia sticks her head out of the room.

“What happened?” she asks, still from the living room, and walks all the way through the open space before I answer.

“Show stuff.”

“No pizza yet? I’m starving.” I shake my head, and she heads to the fridge to grab two beers for her and A.J. and a Coke for me. “I was handling stuff for you, you know?”

“Actually, the pizzas are right there.” A.J. points to the boxes on the stove, and I get off the counter to grab them and take a breather away from him now that his abs are burned into my hands.

“Two-thirty in the morning?” I ask, taking a slice of the chicken pizza from the box.

“Yeah, being a manager for someone who doesn’t have rivers of money to spend on their career is a job that requires patience.” She throws herself onto me, sitting down.

I laugh, but at the same time, it hits me.

My parents lost all the money they had in a bad business deal. Even though they always invested in real estate and that was the guarantee we needed for a comfortable life, a lot of what I earned with GenZ held things together while they tried to get back at least some of what was lost. And even though they did manage, I never wanted “my money back”; we were a family, and no one owes anyone in a family like ours.

Even so, they transferred our best apartment to my name when everything got back on track. I still managed to invest a considerable amount, and the royalties from my songs withGenZcontinue to come in, although they’re few. But with a career as low-key as mine, I can’t just go spending without thinking. I can’t risk it all and watch the money that should support me for the rest of my life evaporate in a dream that feels so far away.

Every investment has to be thought through, and Thalia knows that better than anyone. So, while she talks about the musicians’ payments and the call fromSolarasking if we plan to make the shows there a recurring thing, I just enjoy my pizza and kick A.J. under the table.

“You guys were amazing today,” Thalia finally says. “Seriously, I could watch you two for hours. You need to work on more songs together.”

A.J. straightens up in his seat, signaling with his eyes that we need a break.

“I totally agree. Especially now that I’m almost fluent in Portuguese,” he says in my language, nailing the ends, but still almost perfect.

I can’t help but burst out laughing.

“Fluent, huh? Feeling yourself now, huh? Alright then…” I grab another slice of my favorite pizza and challenge him, “What doesCatupirymean?”

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