Page 77 of Ghost Note

“Because she’ll think I’m weak and foolish and stupid and an idiot and—”

“God, Dais, you’re a drain when you get like this.” I frowned at him, letting him know I didn’t appreciatethatparticular point in his argument. “Stop caring what every Tom, Dick, or Harry thinks. So you let the guy back into your bed. Unless he forced himself on you—”

“What? No! Danny would never do that,” I hissed, sitting back, my spine ramrod straight in his defence.

Ben shrugged. “Then you wanted it. So… no big deal.”

I stared at him, wishing I could untangle my thoughts sometimes to let them lay out in simple flat, uncomplicated lines, the way Danny and Ben seemed to do so easily.

“What’s it like being a man and just not giving a damn what people think?”

“We care what people think. We just care about what we think more. Anyway, stop deflecting. All judgement aside, do you think you’re going to get hurt when this thing with him is over?”

“You and your things.”

“Daisy…”

I sighed heavily. “Yeah. Probably. I don’t know.”

“Be careful with that. It’s nice seeing you looking more awake now. If he’s the guy to make that happen, you should perhaps… I don’t know… think about that. Or at least think about letting another guy in to do the same thing once the guitar git is gone.”

“The guitar git?” I smirked.

Ben brought a fry to his mouth, and he leaned back in his chair, making it rock on two legs. “Just because he makes you happy, it doesn’t mean I need to like the guy.”

“Right.” I chuckled before I pressed my hands to my head and squeezed, scrunching my cheeks and forehead together. “Ugh, why does life have to be so complicated, Ben?”

“Because it would be boring as hell if it weren’t. Now, eat your lobster ravioli and clear your plate before I do. Something tells me you’ll need your energy for tonight.”

“I’m that transparent?”

“Oh, yeah. I can see right through to your overworked brain. If I squint hard enough, I can see some flashbacks of us in there, too.”

Reaching for the spare napkin on the table, I scrunched it up and launched it at him. “Stop it, you idiot.” He caught it and laughed with me.

“So, you are seeing him again tonight then?”

“Yeah. He’s… taking me somewhere.”

“I bet he is, the flashy bastard.” Ben reached over for a slice of garlic bread and ripped it in half. “Ask him a question for me while you’re with him, will you?”

“What’s that?”

“Ask him how much he’s worth. I’ve always wondered how much money these pretty little band boys make in today’s world of music.”

“I can’t ask him that!”

He bit down on his garlic bread, mumbling around it, “What’s the point in spending time with him if you’re not going to get all the juicy details for boring old boatmen like me?”

* * *

Danny picked me up in his Scirocco, looking as handsome as ever. He wore a pair of light, tight jeans with a dark, acid wash T-shirt that hugged every muscle in his chest and arms. Our journey, however, had been short, leading us straight back to Florence’s house, where he parked his car outside the garage before rushing around to open my door for me. I stepped out in skinny black jeans, a pair of heeled boots I rarely wore, and a cropped white shirt that floated just an inch above the tan belt I was wearing.

His eyes kept drifting over my body, but I tried not to let my smile rise or look too smug about it.

“We’re staying here tonight?” I asked, looking up at the house that was lit inside with a soft, warm glow coming from the living room.

“No.” Danny turned to the driveway just as a long, black car came crawling slowly towards us. “But we are taking a different kind of ride than you’re used to.”

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