Page 20 of Cadence
It barrels through me like a drug, filthy and vivid, and I grit my teeth, shoving it down, trying to convince myself it’s not what it looks like.
This isn’t attraction. Isn’t lust or obsession.
Just…adrenaline.
A power thing. A dominance thing.
Ithasto be.
The song hits its final coda, lopsided and odd, and Paige is on her feet before the last note fades. Her stool crashes behind her as she storms around the kit, chest heaving, radiating heat like a threat as she stops right in front of me.
“What the hell was that?” she snarls, sticks clenched in one hand, prodding the tip against my chest. “Next time you pull that shit, I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” I cut in, stepping closer, letting the wood dig in deep. I want the fight. I don’t know why, but I fuckingneedit.
“We’re supposed to be a band, asshole. That means no surprises mid-song, no curveballs, no bullshit. Don’t set people up to fail.” Her eyes blaze, fire dancing around her blue irises. “The first few times I let it slide. Clearly you wanted to prove your dick is bigger and needed the win, so I let it go. Haven’t I passed your goddamn initiation tests already?”
Yes.
And that’s what’s messing me up the most.
“Why? Not up for the challenge?” I taunt, leaning enough to get into her face.
A vein ticks in her temple, her jaw flexes once, twice, before she shifts her hand and shoves me. Harder than I expect. I stumble back a step, nostrils flaring, teeth bared, her touch fire, her rage pure gasoline.
“Fuck you,” she spits, spinning around. Her hair whips across my chest, leaving behind a trace of something sweet and maddening that I can’t un-smell. “I didn’t sign up for this. If this is what you do during practice, what the hell are you going to do when we’re live?”
She storms out, throwing her sticks aside, the pair bouncing off the couch, then clattering onto the floor. The door slams hard enough to shake the amps, and all I can do is stand there, heart jackhammering.
“Maddox? What the hell?” Eli yells, already chasing after her, Beau close behind.
I don’t follow, rooted to the spot with my jaw clenched, haunted by the anger in her eyes, the fury in her voice like it’s branded into me.
And worse?
I want more.
So much more.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
I growl, kicking out, my foot connecting with one of the drumsticks, sending them skittering across the studio. They hit the far wall with a thud that echoes, the sound making my stomach clench, the regret instant.
If someone did that to my guitar, treated it like it was disposable, like it was nothing, I’d lose my shit.
Fuck.
Chapter Eight
Paige
Thesmellofespressobeans and vanilla hits me as soon as I open the door, my mouth instantly watering, desperate for my morning coffee fix. Anything to replace the taste of yesterday.
Annoyance still percolates through my system, the full-body rage that was near a boiling point now a simmering irritation. He pulled a power move mid-song, then had the nerve to act like it wasn’t a big deal, like he was only keeping me on my toes and not trying to humiliate me. And for what? Because he found out about my account?
Is his ego honestly that fragile that he’s going to act like a goddamn child every time someone challenges him?
I join the small line, bobbing my head in time with the music playing through my headphones. It’s the same three albums I’vehad on repeat for the last two weeks, listening and mentally playing in time with Austin’s beat, trying to learn everything before the tour starts.
