Page 27 of Discover Me
I take a breath, trying to organize my thoughts. "I don't date either. Haven't been with anyone seriously in over a year. And I've never..." I pause, heat rising in my cheeks. "I've never sucked someone's dick before. My jaw hurts like a motherfucker but I've slept better than I have in weeks. The pain in my chest that's been there since the day I saved you? It's gone. Completely."
Micah nods slowly, processing.
"One of my bandmates said something about mates," I continue. "About recognition and bonding. But I don't know if that's what this is or if we're just two people who feel something and are using this fake arrangement to explore it."
"Let's just see where this goes then." Micah's voice is steady. "No labels, no expectations beyond what the contract requires. Just... see what happens."
"Yeah, I can do that." Relief floods through me. "And if something is bothering you, I need you to tell me. Your face is expressive as hell but I don't want to make the wrong step or assume anything."
Micah grins, that same mischievous expression from earlier. "Does this mean I get to kiss you?"
I grin back, already leaning in. "Not if I do it first."
Micah
I'm finally dressed in something that fits me better. Kellan dug through his closet and found an old pair of jeans that are still a bit snug on my thighs but workable, and a plain black t-shirt that doesn't hang off me like the clothes from last night. It feels good to be in clothes that don't make me look like I'm drowning in fabric or about to split seams.
Kellan mentioned there's a shop a street over, some local market that has good produce and meat. We head down to the main lobby of his apartment building, and I notice the staresimmediately. A few residents pause their conversations to watch us pass. An older woman by the mailboxes does a double-take, her eyes widening with recognition.
I feel unsure about all of this. The attention, the scrutiny, being seen with Kellan in public. This is real now, not just a contract signed in an office. These are actual people noticing us, probably already connecting dots from the social media post Tom made last night.
We move toward the underground parking lot, footsteps echoing in the concrete space. Kellan's car sits in its designated spot, that beat-up jeep that somehow makes him more human. I stop walking, an idea forming.
"Why don't we just walk? It's only a street over, right?"
Kellan sighs, his hand pausing on the car door. "When you're used to getting recognized, you always make sure you have an escape plan. Walking means getting stopped every few feet. Means being trapped in conversations you don't want to have with no way out."
"I would have thought you liked all of the attention." I lean against a concrete pillar, studying his expression.
"I do, at times." Kellan unlocks the car. "But I got into this because I fucking loved music. The drums, the rhythm, the way sound can make you feel things you can't put into words. The fans were an added bonus at first. Then they became the whole point, according to Tom." He stops, shaking his head. "Why am I even telling you this?"
I search Kellan's features, taking in the tension around his eyes, the way his jaw tightens when he mentions Tom. "Probably because you don't have anyone else to tell. You spend your entire day with your bandmates and Tom and whoever else. They all work for the same goal, part of the same machine. You saying that you're just in it for the music, that you miss what it used to be..." I trail off, not sure how to finish.
Kellan opens the passenger door for me and I slide in. He moves around to the driver's side, starting the engine. The radio comes on automatically, some pop song I don't recognize. He immediately turns it off. "How are you so wise about show business?" Kellan pulls out of the parking spot, navigating toward the exit.
I shake my head. "I'm not. It's just from what I've seen. From watching that press conference you did, from meeting Tom, from being backstage last night. It's more about the product than the person. Even my backstage tour felt more like a feature than an experience. Like I was being shown the exhibit rather than meeting actual people."
Kellan snorts, a sound somewhere between amused and bitter. "You looked really out of your element back there."
"I was." The admission comes easily. "I don't know much about music beyond what sounds good to my ears. I loved their enthusiasm as they spoke about their instruments, don't get me wrong. But..." I sigh, trying to find the right words. "Rex was a lot."
Kellan makes a sound, something choked and strangled as his hands tighten on the steering wheel.
I frown as the car comes to a stop at a red light. "Wait, what is that? You don't like him?"
"You're right, he is a lot." Kellan's voice is carefully neutral. "Let's get inside the shop, okay?"
I laugh at Kellan's obvious attempt to change the subject. Just the last twelve or so hours with this man and I'm already seeing him as adorable. An Alpha, mysterious and tattooed and supposedly this bad boy drummer, and I'm finding him adorable. The contrast between the image and the reality makes me smile.
The tattooed, grumpy, mysterious drummer from the posters and the press conferences is nothing like the real man sittingnext to me. The real Kellan drinks Dr Pepper for breakfast and gets flustered when asked about his bandmates and tried to get me out of a contract even though he needed me to sign it.
We pull into a small parking lot next to a market that looks family-owned. The sign above the door is hand-painted, faded but charming. Kellan parks and we head inside, the automatic doors sliding open with a cheerful chime.
The market is busy but not packed. Saturday morning shoppers push carts through aisles, examining produce and comparing prices. Kellan grabs a small cart and we start with the fruits and vegetables. I point out what we need for the recipe I have in mind, nothing fancy, just a simple pasta dish with fresh ingredients.
"I'm surprised you don't have a service for all of this." I pick up a tomato, checking for firmness. "Grocery delivery or a personal shopper or something."
Kellan shrugs, placing the tomato in the cart. "I used to. But it always gets leaked and then everyone is in your business."
