Page 10 of Resist

SIX

The house we are renting is massive. We each have our own room, and there’s even a backyard and a garage. I know it isn’t like some of the mansions the other bands have, but it still blows me away. We are used to sharing beds or sleeping in a van together, so the space feels like a mansion.

I’m not used to the quiet of my dark room or sleeping alone. The sheets are pushed down to my waist, my arms crossed under my head as I stare at the white ceiling. I need some noise.

I know it’s an excuse.

Instead, I’m replaying everything that happened tonight.

It didn’t surprise me to find Ryk surrounded by people when I went inside, all hanging on his every word. He’s effortless with people, laughing, joking, and stealing hearts. I have no doubt he had fun upstairs, so when the little blonde at his side turned her attention to me, I let her.

I flirted with her to make him jealous. I wanted to see his reaction, wanted him to know he isn’t the only one people find desirable.

It backfired, though, and when he almost kissed me just for their fun, it made me feel sick. I want to kiss Ryker more than I want to breathe, but the idea of doing it like that made me feeldirty, used, and downright angry. We didn’t even speak when we got back despite him trying. I just couldn’t look at him.

Is that really who Ryker is?

I know it’s an act between us, but it always felt natural. We did it for fun because we liked it, but doing it on command for strangers?

No.

Groaning, I cover my eyes with my arm, trying to work through my muddled thoughts, when a creak reaches me. I drop my arm and look at my door, which is partially ajar. Ryker hesitates on the threshold, wearing one of our oversized tanks and boxers, holding a pillow under one arm.

“Are you asleep?” he whispers.

I look him over. “No,” I reply. Something about the darkness, the silence, and the privacy steals my anger and my stupid jumbled feelings. One look at his worried face and big round eyes and I want to reach for him.

I want to protect him and love him, but I hesitate. Everything is changing so fast between us, I don’t even know if I could or should do that, but he shuffles into my room, shutting the door and hesitating once more.

“Can I stay here with you? It’s weird without you next to me. I’m still not used to it.” The fact that he will get used to sleeping without me one day makes my stomach roll. I shouldn’t cross this line again. It will only confuse both of us, but I’ve always been unable to resist Ryker.

I lift the covers without a word. Ryker rushes over, relief in his eyes, and climbs into my bed, placing his pillow next to mine and scooting closer. I drop the covers, tuck them around him, and go back to staring at the ceiling.

I can feel him watching me, and I hear the bedding rustling as he moves closer. He rests his head on my pillow, his warmbreath wafting over my cheek. “Are you mad at me?” he asks, sounding vulnerable.

Everyone else sees the big, bad, sexy rock star, dancing and singing on stage. They don’t see this side of him, and maybe it’s greedy, but I love how he lets himself be open with me, trusting me to keep it between us.

“No, I’m just tired,” I admit, and I am, but I don’t tell him it’s of this game between us, wondering if he wants me the way I want him.

He moves again, and I stiffen as he notches his head just under my chin so effortlessly, his leg thrown over mine. It’s such a familiar pose that’s natural for us, but does he know it drives me crazy?

I drop my arm and wrap it around his back, holding him against me, and he sighs, snuggling closer. Can he feel my desire? If he does, he doesn’t comment on it. It’s an unspoken rule—do not give voice to the feelings between us.

Closing my eyes, I force myself to relax.

One day he’ll stop doing this and I’ll lose him, so until then, I’ll hold on as tightly as I can.

When I wake to sunlight streaming through the curtainless window, he is gone. My bed is empty, and his pillow is gone along with him.

Isn’t that how it goes for us?

We are together in the dark, but when the light arrives, we are through.

It’s a dark secret.

SEVEN

Inow understand the jokes and looks we got last night when we mentioned not having our schedule yet. Our label demanded an early morning meeting, and we are all nursing coffee and Red Bull while sitting around the glass table in our management’s skyscraper, facing off with two women and a man—Mrs. Noel, Miss Wilson, and Po Freen, our new manager. We have only been here an hour, and my head is already pounding from an information overload.

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