Page 59 of Tell Me When It's Over

One of his brows quirks. “You want to talk about my music?” Amusement laces through his words and draws me into his room where I sit on the edge of his bed. Why wouldn’t I want to talk about that?

“Yes.”

He chuckles. “It’s going well. Should be finished by the time you get back.” This time, he eyes me pointedly. “By eleven.”

Is he…? “Are you giving me a curfew?”

A grin spreads on his face and I don’t miss the pride twinkling in his eyes. “Yes. You’re eighteen and living here. I need to make sure you’re safe, so I want you back by eleven. I’ll make sure your friend knows too.”

My friend. All I can do is gape at him, waiting for him to start laughing and telling me he’s kidding. He is, right? I’ve never had a curfew before. Then again, I’ve never needed one. Now it just feels weird.

“You’re serious?” I hedge, eyes widening when I see his expression.

His chin dips in confirmation.

“Kyler—”

“Nope.” He shuts me down and drops his feet onto the floor, standing to full height. “I need to make sure you’re okay and I don’t want to stay up all night waiting for you.”

“I don’t expect you to.”

The disbelief I’m met with in his deadpan gaze has me pressing my lips together. Okay, so he’s being completely serious. Noted. “I know you don’t, but I won’t be able to sleep until I know you’re back. Just say okay.”

Sighing, I nod. “Okay.”

He beams. “Great. C’mon. We’ll wait downstairs for him. He’s picking you up at seven right?”

Giving him a nod, I look down at the time on my phone. We have twenty minutes still, which means twenty minutes of me freaking out for no reason. I’ll probably have to change my shirt or redo my eyeliner if I don’t stop thinking about the hundreds of ways this could go wrong.

When we’re in the living room, I can’t help but ask about his experiences. “What if there are cameras?”

His brows shoot up.

“And what if people recognize us? He’s related to Garrick frigging Matthews!”

That brings his brows down. “So?”

“So,” I repeat dryly, “people might say something. Or do something. Remember when Beckham—”

“Stop, Leighton.” Shaking his head, he scoots to the edge of the chair cushion and rests his elbows on his knees “You need to take a deep breath. Chase is nothing like Garrick, thank fucking God or I wouldn’t be okay with this, and he isn’t that asshat you dealt with in high school. You’re nervous, I get it. You don’t have a lot of experience with this sort of thing…” His voice gets low. Tugging on the collar of his shirt, he blows out a breath. “I’m going to be real with you because I always am. People might notice you guys and they might say something and, sure, they might take a picture or two. Forget about them and enjoy yourself. This is your night to be young and have fun. Fuck the rest.”

I blink. That’s his advice? Why does he sound so pained to tell me that? Thinking about it only makes me itch, so I brush it off. For now.

“Okay. Fuck them. Enjoy myself.” The CliffsNotes version makes me squirm, and Kyler looks close behind.

“Maybe don’t say it like that,” he murmurs. Not understanding, I give him a funny look until he’s wiping a palm down the side of his face. “You’re going to be good tonight, right? There’s nothing you’re worried about…”

Worried? Of course, I’m worried. He knows that’s immediately my default in life, which is why he always has to tell me to shut my brain off. “About what exactly?”

The way he shifts in his seat makes me realize whatever he’s getting at isn’t his typical conversation forte. “If he tries something…” His wince is what clicks it for me.

“Oh my God,” I groan, covering my face to hide the heat prickling my cheeks. “Are you trying to give me the sex talk right now?”

He goes completely white. Whiter than I’ve ever seen on his usually fair face. “What? No! Jesus—fuck no. I’m just saying if he tries something and you’re nervous, you can always…I…” Curse words fly from his mouth as he stands and swipes a hand through his hair, making it unruly.

It’s hard to swallow when I realize I just made this already awkward talk worse, so I don’t offer up anything else as he puts distance between us before turning to face me again.

“Okay, maybe I am hinting at that. He’s a nineteen-year-old guy. I know what they think like and what’s on their mind. So, sure. I’m saying to be careful.”

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