Page 26 of Dirty Rock

“Who I’d hurt in the process and if they mattered to me.”

Her smirk faded. “You do matter to me, Rhett. And I didn’t mean to hurt you, if that’s what I did. I was frustrated, angry—”

“And you thought you could use me as a human punchbag to get all your shit out.”

“No.” Julia shook her head. “I wasn’t using you as a punchbag. Everything I said to you, I meant, but I am sorry about saying those things in front of others. The guys in the band didn’t need to hear that.”

I ran my free hand through the longer lengths of my hair, holding it in place at the back of my head as I studied her. “So, youdothink I’m a narcissistic arsehole?”

“Oh, definitely.”

“Wow,” I mouthed, hating the way that made my heart pinch a little.

What do you even care? Julia means nothing to you.

“But,” she began, leaning forward until she was resting on the edge of her seat. She wrapped both hands around the glass that sat on the table, and she held my gaze. “I also happen to think you’re a decent guy. I think you try too hard sometimes, but there’s good in there somewhere. I respect you for your talent. I admire you for the way you create art. I adore your voice because it’s one of the purest sounds in the whole world, even when it’s broken and pleading for things it can never have. If ever I’m sad, I only need to listen to you sing, and everything bad fades away in my life.”

I swallowed, unsure how to handle hearing compliments that made my chest swell a little.

“There are sides to you I don’t know yet, too. I think there are sides to you that not even you’ve discovered. And even though there are traits that really piss me off, my main feeling around you is one of admiration…andfrustration.”

“Sexual?”

She sighed, not impressed, and I wish I could have taken that one word back.

“Sorry,” I muttered, clearing my throat.

“You don’t know how to be serious about anything, do you?”

I do,I wanted to protest.

I knew how to love my parents—my mum and stepdad. I knew how to care for those who’d only ever been good to me. I knew how to be serious about the motherfuckers who’d beaten me black and blue in the school playground during high school. I knew how I seriously wanted to prove them wrong—all of them. I knew how to focus on the progress of this band. I knew how to look at life through serious eyes when I had to write lyrics, talk business, and protect our art.

“I think that’s the problem,” I sighed. “Nobody sees.”

“Sees what?”

“The real me.” I blinked, waiting for her to respond, but she just stared at me with wide eyes that made me want to tell her my whole fucking life story. “Jules, I’m here on tour, doing what I do, being who I am because I’m serious about so many things. Mainly about not wasting this opportunity by being sensible, climbing into bed before midnight every night, and eating my greens. I’m serious. It’s just a different kind of serious to yours. Maybe to everyone’s.”

She took another sip of her drink, and I didn’t miss the way she licked her lips before she pushed the glass to her mouth.

That pink tongue made something twist up in the pit of my stomach.

I did not want to fuck Julia.

Except… I think I did. The very thought made my dick twitch, and I quickly stretched out my neck, straightened up my posture, and drained my glass in one.

“Can I tell you a little secret?” she asked as she slammed her glass back on the table with a little too much force. “I admire all those things about you. All the things you think people hate, I respect, even when I lash out and tell you that I don’t. You’re free. You’re who you are with no apologies.”

I raised my brows and waited, sensing there was more.

“I’m fed up of being serious,” she admitted quietly. Her eyes shot up to mine, narrowed and inviting. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” I cleared my throat.

“Forget everything.”

I frowned, not understanding.

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