Page 51 of Starstruck
The weight of his eyes on me makes my skin itch, and eventually I turn to him. “Why are you here? How did you even get my address?”
“I was worried about you.” My brows furrow as a hint of something that looks like sadness flashes in his navy pools. “And I got your address from Jeremy.”
With an eye roll, I huff a laugh. “Remind me to kick his ass on Monday.”
Baxter smirks as I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, his eyes tracking the movement. His eyes darken, and I know with absolute certainty that he wants to kiss me.
I almost let him.
But since we’re clearly already breaking one of the rules we set barely a week ago, I’m not about to break another. It’s bad enough he’s even here right now, because breaking one rule is the first step to breaking them all. I refuse to go back on my promise to myself to keep feelings out of it.
Especially not on a day like today, when my emotions are already heightened.
I tilt my head toward his guitar case. “What’s that for?” I ask, trying to change the subject.
Baxter chuckles. “Oh, yeah. Jeremy also told meexactlywhat you do at Revolution.” He shoots me a knowing look.
I swallow, a blush filling my cheeks.I really am going to kick his ass on Monday.
He knows I haven’t been writing. He’s the only one other than Isa I’ve told, seeing as it’s my literal job.
But he clearly didn’t sharethatpart with Baxter, because the next words out of his mouth are, “Thought maybe you could help me work on some songs.” He leans over, grabbing his guitar out of the case, as I begin to shake my head. “I’ve had this rhythm stuck in my head for weeks now, but I can’t seem to find the lyr?—”
“No,” I rush out, standing and rounding the couch to try to put some distance between myself and both Baxter and music. “No, I can’t help you.”
“C’mon, Lennon. It’ll be fun.”
I shake my head, tears beginning to well in my eyes. I’m on the verge of a panic attack, my second one of the day, andof course, the absolute last person I need witnessing it won’t leave my goddamn apartment. “N-no. I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t,” I stutter, my vision blurring as my heart rate picks up.
I don’t register Baxter moving to stand in front of me until his hands grip my biceps. With his forefinger, he tilts my chin up to make me look at him, but I can’t focus. My breathing accelerates, and I press a hand to my chest, trying to catch my breath. I vaguely see Baxter’s lips moving, but I don’t hear a word he says as theringing in my ears gets louder. The edges of my vision darken until I can’t see straight, fully unaware of what’s happening around me.
That’s when I feel Baxter pick me up, carrying me bridal-style back over to the couch. I hear a muffled, “I’ve got you, Lennon. You’re okay,” as he retakes his seat with me on his lap, and I squeeze my eyes shut. Then he just holds me there, putting pressure in all the right places to ground me, forcing me to slow my breathing.
He rubs soft circles on my back, two fingers pressed against my pulse point on my wrist. “Just breathe,” he whispers into my hair.
My fingers grip his leather jacket while my tears stain his black Henley, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He just continues stroking my hair, whispering sweet nothings into my ear to calm me down. We stay like that until my heart rate finally steadies.
Once I feel like I can breathe again, I look up at him through tear-soaked lashes. “Thank y-you,” I whisper softly. “I’m…sorry you had to see that.”
“Shh, Lennon.” He presses a light kiss to my hair. “Don’t apologize. I’m sorry for whatever I said to trigger it.”
“It…it wasn’t you.” I shake my head against his chest. “It…um…” I sigh, trying to find the words I’ve been refusing to say out loud for months now. “I haven’t been able to write since that day. That’s why I didn’t tell you I’m a songwriter, too. Because I’m not so sure I am anymore.”
His eyes soften as he looks at me, pain streaked across his face, like he’s been here before. Like he’s the only person on the planet who knows how I feel.
And honestly, in this moment, it feels like he just might be.
“Youwillwrite again, Lennon.” He presses another soft kiss to my forehead, and this time, I let my eyes flutter shut. “That’s a promise.”
[22 ]
TAKE A RIDE
LENNON
Four Months Until the Concert
“WORK” BY JIMMY EAT WORLD
