Page 72 of Of Heartbreak and Harmony
I stand from the little patio chair where I was sitting, but Torren takes another step in my direction, halting me.
“You don’t have to. I’m not in a hurry to get back to my room.”
I blink at him, and he must mistake my shock for concern because he throws his palms up.
“No touching. No fake dating stuff. Just two people having a chat on a rooftop terrace.”
An unwelcomed smirk turns up my lips on impulse, my thoughts forming into words before I can think better of it. “Because you have such a great track record with keeping your pants on while on rooftop terraces.”
Torren barks out a laugh and shakes his head while taking a seat in one of the patio chairs. I’m grateful he’s sitting now. I don’t have to worry about accidentally staring at his naked chest or studying his thin sweatpants.
“That wasn’t me. I know some tabloids held to the story that it was, but it wasn’t.”
My jaw drops. “Really?”
“Really. It was Levi. I was at the hotel with the rest of the band.”
“Damn.”
That rooftop sex tape scandal was everywhere. I tried my best to avoid it, and everything I learned about it was against my will. By that time, The Hometown Heartless was on the top of my shit list, and Torren was King Shit. I didn’t know much about this Levi guy—still don’t—but I was certain it was Torren on that rooftop with Sav.
“How often does that happen?” I ask him. “How often do they just print stories that aren’t true.”
“All the fucking time.”
“That would drive me mad.”
“You get used to it.” He shrugs, then reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a familiar silver cigarette case. “Is it cool if I smoke?”
I arch a brow. Torren from four years ago didn’t ask my permission to smoke, and he practically hotboxed his tour bus with me in it.
“Nowyou ask?”
“Now?”
“Never mind,” I say with a sigh. “I don’t mind. Just don’t blow it at me.”
He smirks and puts the joint between his lips, and I watch his long, tattooed fingers as he strikes a match and lights it, inhaling so the cherry glows red on the end.
“Why matches?” I ask randomly. “Why not a lighter?”
He blows a stream of smoke out of the side of his mouth and examines his matchbook as he puts it back in the silver case.
“I could make up some bullshit about how the butane taints the flavor of the joint or something, but really, I just think they’re cool. You’re basically holding a flame between your fingers.” He pauses and grins at me. “Who doesn’t want to be a fire master?”
I force a smile and break eye contact. The nickname Firebird echoes loudly in my head, and I almost want to laugh.Who doesn’t want to be a fire master?I guess that explains a lot.
“So, besides your dad, it’s just you, your mom, and your sister, right?”
Grateful for the change of subject, I nod. “Yep. Well, and the dog now. Happy little family of four.”
“Your sister is a crack-up.”
“Yeah, Glory is a treat,” I say wryly. “She texted me this morning toask if she can have my half of the closet. As if I’m never going to come back.”
Torren laughs, his white teeth glinting. “Typical younger sibling.”
“Do you have any? Siblings, I mean.”
