Page 52 of Sounds Like Love

“You don’t want to do that,” he chastised.“And don’t tease.”

I shook my head, rubbing my chest to alleviate the sudden tension. “But what if—”

What if I couldn’t? What if I doomed him to being in my head forever? What if I didn’t have another song to give? What if—

What if I fail?

He took my face in his hands, so I could look nowhere else but at him. “Bird,” he murmured, “breathe.”

I took a deep breath.

“We can do this together,”he told me.

His voice grounded me, even if I didn’t believe him. How could he put so much trust in someone he barely knew? It frightened me almost as much as my heart did when he called mebird.

“So.” His hands dropped from my face. “Partners?” he asked, extending his hand, waiting for a handshake.

I dropped my gaze to it, his open hand waiting for mine. “Associates,” I replied, and shook his hand. His grip was strong and sure, but my gaze never left his face as I watched his mouth curl into one of those crooked, melting smiles.

“We’ll see.”

Chapter20All These Things That I’ve Done (Time, Truth, and Hearts)

THE NEXT MORNING,I stared at my ceiling for far too long, wondering if I’d made up the conversation on the beach last night, or if I had actually agreed to write a song with Sebastian Fell. God, I hoped it was a dream. I could almost convince myself that it was. Except, if I willed the conversation to be a dream, then the kiss had to be, too.

And it had seriously been a good kiss—and that was theworstpart, because we absolutely could not do that again. Being in my head was bad enough, but feelingeverythinghe felt, too? Being seen so thoroughly it shook my very bones? That was a kind of intimacy I didn’t want, didn’t need.Ididn’t even know what I was made of at my center; I certainly didn’t want a stranger to figure it out first.

Besides, nothing good ever came from sleeping with your cowriter. Not that I was thinking about that, because Iwasn’t.

“What’swrongwith me?” I murmured, grabbing my comforter and pulling it over my head. I curled into a ball on my side. “It wasn’t that good,” I told myself.“It was just meh. He barely put any effort into it.”

Lies, all lies. Because if it was the truth, I wouldn’t feel my cheeks heat in a blush every time I thought about the way he anchored my head, the scent of bergamot that still lingered on my skin.

I felt like a schoolgirl with a crush.

Ihatedit. All of it.

What I hated more was how, because of Gigi, I knew so much about him. That he was thebad boyof Renegade, the one no self-respecting mother would allow to date their kid. That after he’d wrapped his Corvette around a telephone pole he spent months in the hospital. That he faded into obscurity, appearing in brand deals and D-list reality shows, chasingsomething. Or maybe running away from something.

Who knows, I thought, and then froze, wondering if he could hear me right now.Are you in my head? Sebastian?

No answer.

I sighed in relief, thinking he must still be asleep, but it was short-lived.

“I thought you’d want some privacy with your thoughts,”he said.

I winced. “Oops.”

“No, no. Your opinions are perfectly valid. Though, I wouldn’t callCelebrity Bachelora D-list reality show …”

I rolled my eyes and pushed myself up in bed. I wasn’t going to get more sleep. Outside, I heard Dad crank up his old lawn mower. It came to life with an exhausted growl, rattling the picture frames on the walls. “You were a guest inoneepisode. I hardly count that.”

“Ouch! I gave Riley Madds some great advice, thank you.”

He did? I didn’t remember. Gigi loved reality shows, so in order to feel closer to each other,we’d talk on the phone while watching some super-tan Prince Charming award roses to starry-eyed women. I didn’t really see the appeal—most of the couples ended up breaking up months after the show, anyway—but Gigi was obsessed. She loved how it was all so incredibly fake, but fake in the way that Disney World was fake: manufactured romance, packaged up and sold to the audience for the low, low price of an hour of your time a week.

“And what was that great advice?” I asked, pulling my hair back into a bun as I left my room and made my way down the stairs to the kitchen.

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