Page 29 of California Love Songs
And there it was. In the silent seconds that followed, she realized that was what had been bothering her. That was the creeping and undeniable thought that had swirled around her naked desire and curdled it into something far more complicated.
His eyes had widened in shock. “What?”
“I can’t be one of your groupies,” she repeated. A shudder went through her—and not the good kind. She suddenly remembered every single occasion she’d watched Damien with another girl—swarmed by hordes of screaming women—a model or actress interrupting their conversation and trying to take Damien backstage or to a bar—the bolder ones suggesting a nightcap at their hotel. It was like a cruel blooper reel of rejection and she couldn’t make it stop.
She may as well have slapped him. His whole body seemed to recoil, and he let his hands slip from her shoulders as hurt suffused his face. “When have I ever treated you like one of my groupies?”
She didn’t know what to say. “I know you don’t treat me like one of them, but you’ve never kissed me before either.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Damien, what am I to you?”
He looked as confused as she felt, as though pondering the question for the first time. And it was pretty clear he didn’t have an instant answer. She felt like a fool.
He took a step back and did his trademark running-his-hand-through-his-already-messy-hair thing. Oh, it melted her, just like it always did. But still, she had to hold firm. She had to make sure she didn’t do something she might regret for the rest of her life… in addition to throwing the groupie comment at him. That already felt like a huge mistake.
Her heart thudded as the silence grew, but this time it was in fear. Would Damien say the words she was longing to hear, or would this beautiful evening come crashing down around her?
Finally, he said, “We’re friends…” And then, obviously seeing that wasn’t the greatest response, he amended it. “More than friends. Obviously. Hell, Crystal, I didn’t intend for this to happen. I’m as confused as you are.”
She very much doubted that. She could hear the light breeze whispering through the trees, and the air smelled like pine drifting down from the forest. Overhead, the stars twinkled, the moon a perfect sliver of silver. The night could not have been more romantic.
And yet, a cold feeling was beginning to take over where she had been so very hot before. Her reality had asserted itself, and not a moment too soon. She took a step back.
“Good night, Damien,” she said. “Thanks for a lovely evening.” And then she turned and walked up the driveway toward her house.
Behind her, she heard him say, “Crys, wait!”
But she didn’t turn around. She didn’t stop.
If she went back and stood within touching distance, he would look at her with that steamy expression on his face, and all her resolve would disappear into the moonlit night. She only had so much self-control, and she was exerting all of it now as she took her keys from her bag and kept walking.
She could feel him watching her, could feel his eyes on her back, on the sway of her hips. She could feel him wanting her as much as she could feel his confusion and his pain. She knew him so well. How many women had taken that step—had fallen for his charm, his beautiful singing voice, and his crazy good looks? And, if she was honest, his genuine niceness. Despite his rock ’n’ roll persona, Damien was not one of the bad guys. For somebody who was so famous and had pretty much everything—from looks to talent to wealth, even a nice family—she had to give him credit. In fact, it was probably because of the Davenport clan that he was still so grounded. Part of the reason she had to be so careful with her heart was knowing that if things went wrong with them because of this, it would crush her.
Damien was a nice man who also enjoyed women, and he’d had plenty of them over the years. She couldn’t be one more. Just another notch on his belt. She had managed to walk that fine line, managed to stay friends with a heartthrob, only because she never let her feelings get the better of her, never let herself believe there could be anything more than friendship between them.
Okay, she couldn’t help her fantasies, couldn’t help her daydreams, but she was too smart to give in to fantasy and believe it could be reality.
By the time she put her key in the lock, she felt sure she was doing the right thing, even as every fiber of her being wanted to turn around, run back, throw her arms around him, plaster her lips to his, and give him what he so very clearly wanted. What she also wanted.
It was pretty obvious from that kiss that she was giving up a night of insanely great sex.
Perhaps she could have his body for a night, maybe a few, maybe weeks, even for as long as he stayed in town. But that was never going to be enough.
All she’d do was fall even deeper than she already was… and she would end up hurt, alone, and worst of all, without her best and longest friend.
Chapter Thirteen
Damien was still reeling when he got back to his place. He felt as though Crystal had slapped him. Treat her like one of his groupies? Where had that even come from?
There was no way he could sleep with the frustrated desire coursing through him, so he did what he always did when he was troubled. He picked up a guitar. As he sat there, playing familiar tunes, a song began to play inside his head. It was just the first line, but he felt his feelings begin to take shape, as they so often did, through songwriting.
With the song almost writing itself in his mind, his fingers tingling as they plucked the guitar strings, Damien knew he had to lay it down. Normally, he liked to have two people—one producing or handling the synthesizer while he was actually singing—but he didn’t want another person with him right now. He had to play both roles.
He wanted the simplicity, almost the rawness, of his voice and the guitar alone. Somehow, it felt more truthful. So that’s what he did. He wrote a song. For Crystal.
He played it back and then did one more take. By the time he was finished, it was six in the morning and he’d helped clarify his own feelings. He felt calmer. Stronger.
The sun was coming up, and he felt a lot better. He was still confused, but maybe he was wrapping his head around what had just happened with Crystal. The song had revealed his true feelings to himself in the way that only music could.
Damien showered and then made himself some green tea and his usual plant-based breakfast concoction. His siblings might mock it, but he swore by it. It kept him healthy, and he was convinced his clean diet got him through rigorous tour schedules without getting sick. He wiped up a few stray chia seeds, then wondered if he should finally go to bed and try to get some sleep. But he was still too full of energy. His first thought was to go for a run on the beach, to exhaust his body so his mind could finally rest, but then the real solution came to him. He needed to talk to somebody—preferably someone who would listen before rushing in with advice.
