Page 44 of Cherry Beats

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“No, stop it.” I laughed roughly, trying to snatch my phone off him.

We’d spent the last hour on the floor in front of his fire again, looking through my playlists. We’d eaten enough pasta to sate our stomachs, and we’d drunk enough whiskey and beer to make us both feel bolder than usual. Or at least me. We’d listened to my ‘cheesefest’ songs—his words, not mine—and I was currently trying to explain why Bon Jovi and Bryan Adams were the two biggest loves of my life.

“You can’t have The Cure and Bryan Adams on the same playlist. You just can’t,” Presley protested, holding my phone in the air so it was out of reach for me unless I stood up and pinned him down. As tempting as that was, I was held down by alcohol, carbs, and orgasms.

“Why can’t I?”

“Just like Heavenis not in the same league asPlease Forgive Me.”

“You’re such a snob. You’re a typical musician, aren’t you? All about what’s cool rather than what speaks to your soul. You’ll be wearing pink silk shirts, bad suit trousers, and trying to look like Bob Geldof next.”

His face fell, and his eyes dropped from my phone to me. “Excuse me?”

“You heard what I said, Presley Arrogant West.”

He stared, shocked, for just a moment before he burst into laughter and fell back on the floor, holding my phone above his head with both hands. He was naked and spread out with nothing but that shitty little blanket covering his private parts. We’d had sex three times already, and I was sore. But, my God, did I want more.

“Aloneby Heart? Jesus, Cherry.”

“Don’t you dare remove that from any playlist, ever. I adore that song.”

Presley began to sing the first few lines of it, immediately making me smile. I joined in at the chorus, way more out of tune than he was, until it hit the big drum break and Presley closed his eyes and air-drummed with my phone.

It isn’t until you sing the lyrics of a song in front of a person you secretly love that you realise just how fitting they are.

He was poking fun at my music.

My face was falling with each word that passed my lips, realising how true the words were and how much they fit my feelings for him. Feelings I’d had since my youngest high school days.

That heart began to pinch again like a belt too small or a shoelace tied too tight.

“Next song, please.” My eyes fell to the blanket in my lap, and I tried to stay in the moment rather than worry about the future because that’s where happiness was meant to live, right? In the here and now. In the present. The past held regret and the future held worry. The here and now was the only place to truly let yourself feel the euphoria of the moment.

Be present, Tess,I chastised myself.Don’t waste a second of this.

“Thank you for loving me,” Presley said smoothly.

I looked up. “What?”

He lifted his head and pointed to the phone. “Bon Jovi.Thank You for Loving Me.”

“Oh. No. Too morbid for tonight.”

“Maybe.” He sighed, something flashing across his eyes. I didn’t have time to study it before his head fell back on the floor, and he began swiping again and again. “Make It with You, by Bread. This is ridiculous. We need to get you up-to-date.”

“Hey! There’s nothing wrong with my music. Let me be me.”

“Aerosmith, Air Supply, fuck my life.”

I reached out to pinch his toe with my nails.

“Ouch.” He yelped between fits of laughter, sitting upright to rub it with his free hand. His hair was erratic yet somehow perfect in its wildness. There weren’t many men who could pull off that style—the surfer waves and the natural blonde cut that fell to his chin. When he pushed it back and ran a hand through it, a pang of jealousy hit me in the chest. I was jealous of his fucking fingers that got to bury themselves in there whenever they felt like it.

I quickly pinched his other toe, pulling the exact same response from him.

He scowled. “If this is you introducing me to some kind of D/s relationship, I ain’t buying into it.”

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