Page 46 of Your Rhythm
JP has also taken to flirting with her every chance he gets, again because he knows it pisses me off. I’ve always been the one everyone enjoys pissing off the most. JP said it’s something about my face. I try to stay as neutral as possible as he gives me a shit-eating grin.
Kay, on the other hand, hasn’t looked at me since she walked in the room. She gets out her now-familiar recording device and sets it up on the table before pulling up a document on her phone. Even without her looking at me, I feel like we’re aware of each other’s every move. If there was tension between us before, it’s now increased to the point where every muscle in my body is braced against the feeling that I’m about to snap.
I don’t know exactly what ‘snapping’ would mean in this context, but I’m sure I don’t want the rest of the band in the room when it happens.
Kay flicks her gaze to me for the first time, and I grip the underside of my chair.
Get it together, Pearson. All she did waslookat you.
She barely pays me any attention for the rest of the interview, but my eyes stay focused on her mouth like it’s their job, watching the flick of her tongue against her teeth as she speaks. Most of her questions are about our connection to Trois-Rivières and get directed at JP. When she lets out a laugh at something he says, I swear I feel the sound go straight to my cock.
I start drumming a beat against my thighs, trying and failing to keep myself from getting even more strung out. It’s like now that I’ve tasted her, I can’t sit here in the same room without focusing on anything else but wanting more.
“How important of a role do you think Quebec culture plays in your work?” I hear her ask.
“It’s very important to me,” JP answers. “I’m the only French Canadian in the band, and I don’t want people to forget that. I don’t want us to just be a band from Montreal; I want us to be a band from Quebec too. It’s my culture. It’s part of me and it’s part my music.”
“How do you think that shows in your songs?” Kay prompts.
“It’s part of our style. I play the harmonica. We have someQuébécoissounding violin parts on the album. Ace usesjoualslangin his lyrics, which is more Montreal than Trois-Rivières, but still, that’s the shit I grew up with. I like that we can work it in with the rest of our sound.”
I do a double-take, surprised every time JP says something that’s not a joke. Kay’s watching him like she’s caught off guard, too. Not many people can bring out that side of him, and I’m glad for the assurance that this was the right thing to do.Thisis the kind of stuff people need to hear from us, not just another story of an after party gone wrong.
Kay wraps things up soon after that so we can keep getting ready for the show. I hang back as the rest of the guys leave, ignoring the looks they give me as I wait for Kay to gather up her stuff.
“You coming to the show?” I ask.
She jumps like she didn’t know I was still in the room.
“Yeah,” she answers, recovering herself. “It’s my job.”
“You should come out with us after. Things always get interesting when we’re in Trois-Rivières.”
She gives me a cautious smile. “That is definitelynotmy job.”
“I don’t want you to come for work. I want you to come for me.”
I blurt it out without thinking, both of us going silent as we take in the words. The double entendre wasn’t intentional, but I’m pretty sure it’s not lost on either of us. I swallow hard.
She looks at the floor. “Matt...”
“Kay,” I say evenly. I’m not going to let my nerve fail me now. “I don’t know if you’re trying to convince yourself last week was a mistake, but I know what I felt, and I don’t regret any of it. You shouldn’t either.”
“It’s not that I regret it. I just don’t think—”
“Don’t think. It’s a night out. With me. And the band. And our crew. And probably half the city. No one’s going to think twice about you being there. Just spend some time with me.”
She shifts her backpack up onto her shoulder. “I guess I do owe you. I don’t know how you managed to get me this interview, but thanks.”
Her tone is light, an attempt to break the intensity of the moment, but I can’t ignore what she’s saying.
“You don’t owe me,” I insist. “We have a deal. This isn’t part of that.”
She stares me down with that all-knowing expression of hers, the one that makes me feel transparent.
“So what exactlyisthis?”
I decide that it’s my turn to lighten the mood. I tap my chin as I consider her for a moment longer.
