Page 154 of The First Time
Chapter Twenty-Six
Kit
It's late and I'm slick with sweat.
My hands are screaming for a break.
Not yet.
Not until my head is clear.
Right now, it's still stuck on what the hell it means that I'm in love with Piper.
On if I'm in love with Piper.
I start at the top of our set list.Tied up With Youis a catchy crowd pleaser. It's the perfect opening song and it's fucking hard.
I really outdid myself on this one.
My hands are too tired. I drop too many notes. By the breakdown I've got it enough to play the next song.
The next.
The entire set list.
My head doesn't clear until halfway through our closer. When I let my eyelids fall together, I can feel the energy of being on stage. I can see the fans, hear the screams. I can't help myself. I start singing along with lyrics.
Fuck, I'm only practicing and I'm over the fucking moon.
This is where I belong.
I feel a twinge of emptiness as I turn off my amp and set my bass in its stand. For the last ten years, more even, this has been what I've wanted, how I clear my head, where I was sure I belonged.
It's not just the instrument. It's the guys. The band.
That might be fucked. It might be over.
That thought guts me.
But the thought of losing Piper—that's just as bad.
Worse even.
I make my way downstairs, warm up a cup of coffee, and take a seat on the couch.
It still smells like her.
Still smells like sex.
Shit, I'm getting hard just thinking about her body under mine, her legs wrapped around my hips, her groans vibrating down my neck.
I finish my cup of decaf, pull my phone from my front pocket, and I call her.
She answers right away. "This barely counts as tonight."
I check the time on my phone. Almost midnight. "But it does."
She laughs. "I guess it does. Were you doing something important?"
