Page 55 of Of Heartbreak and Harmony
PAST, ArtFusion Night Three
The next night,I pretend I don’t see him while waiting in line for lamb kabobs.
I’m alone because Becket decided he wanted pizza again and then to check out the hookah tent. I hate hookah, and I’m sick of pizza. I have no idea where the other three went off to. Usually, I’d make it a point to tag along with one of them, but I wasn’t in the mood today, and they aren’t like girl friends would be. My safety isn’t even on their radar, so I have a little more freedom. Sometimes being the only woman in a group of idiots has its perks.
I thought I’d spend the evening wandering and wallflowering, but now it seems I have a shadow. It shouldn’t thrill me, but it does.
“You got the paint off,” he observes, finally announcing himself, and I let out an irritated sigh.
“What do you want?”
“Ouch. Tent life not suiting you?”
I fling around, folding my arms and raising a brow.
“What do youwant, Torren?”
He grins. He fucking grins at me, and my nostrils flare. When he doesn’t answer, I turn back around. Within seconds, I feel him step closer, his chest brushing my back and his scent surrounding me.Tobacco and leather, first. Ginger and bergamot follow. I could get drunk on this smell.
“Don’t be mad, Firebird. I just want to hang out.”
Fuck me, I’m such an idiot, because the ice already starts to thaw.
“We had fun last night, right? Just wanted to see if we could do it again.”
I release another sigh. This one, much to my chagrin, is less annoyed than the last.
“Are you a vampire?” I ask, immaturely snapping the words like talking to him irritates me when really it makes me feel alive. “You only come out at night.”
“It’s easier to go unnoticed at night.”
“Are you high again?”
Another chuckle but no answer. I assume it’s yes. Instead of letting it fester, I just word vomit the thing I really care about, then hold my breath for his response.
“Why did you leave so quickly last night?”
I also want to ask why he deleted the text thread from my phone, but I bite my tongue on that one. My boldness has limits.
“That’s why you’re angry.”
I don’t dispute it. Iamangry. I’m not going to lie or placate him. I don’t care if he thinks it’s dumb. I’m angry, and my feelings fucking matter. It’s quiet for so long that I think he won’t answer, but when he finally speaks, it’s like wind returning to my stupid, delusional sails.
“I left because the headlining band was ending, and I didn’t want to fuck with the crowd surge in the main areas. It was safer to head back to the bus.”
I nod slowly. It works. The anger bleeds from my muscles, and once again, I’m just nerves and obsession and fangirl putty in his tattoo-and-ring-adorned fingers. When his lips brush my ear, I freeze.
“Come back to my bus with me.”
I turn to face him, then fold my arms over my chest and narrow my eyes. “Why me?”
“You intrigue me.”
“Not good enough. Try again.”
“Because you’re not obsessed with me.”
His answer comes so easily that I can’t stop the way my eyes widenwith surprise. I also have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from correcting him. Because, well, I kind ofamobsessed with him. He must take my silence to mean I’m still not convinced, because he steps forward and speaks again.
