Page 55 of Filthy Rock Stars

There’s a loud knock at the door, interrupting me. Nico is chewing on his lip, lost in thought, and I quickly tear my eyes away to go and get the food. Savory aromas fill the room as I push the silver cart back.

Nico stands. “I can’t lie to the band,” he says abruptly. “They’re reeling from the talk show. I can’t be involved with a member of your band without telling them. It’s just not an option for me.”

“Right.” I take the lid off a plate, a stack of waffles with strawberries and fluffy cream, and Nico’s eyebrows perk in appreciation. “That’s the problem.”

“Not entirely,” he says. “It just means that if we’re going to make something work between us, and I understand we haven’t talked about the parameters of kicking it yet, but if we were—” He swallows. “I’d have to tell the band.”

I hand him the waffles. “Are you saying that’s what you want to do?”

Nico appreciatively takes the plate but doesn’t slow down his talking. “I’m just thinking this through,” he says. “And I know that presents a whole host of new complications. There’s no reason for you to trust Kissing Dirt, even if I do, and you’re not out of the closet publicly. Not to mention you might feel strange about keeping a secret fromyourband, all your misgivings about them aside.” He methodically cuts a square off the corner of the waffles. “But then I try to think of another way, and I know I have to tell Mare, Case, and Star the truth, so I land back where I started, which is telling the band,” he concludes and pops the waffle in his mouth.

I rub the back of my head. Fuck. He’s really thinking about this because he really wants it. He wants me, even after everything that’s happened.

I’m still trying to wrap my head around that.

I pick up a cloth napkin. “You’ve got some whipped cream,” I say, and when his eyes widen, I reach across the counter and wipe it off his lip.

“Thank you,” Nico says.

I swallow. “This isn’t your problem to solve. You don’t have to talk to your band immediately. I have to talk to mine.”

“Oh.” Nico twists his mouth to the side, considering it. “You’re going to tell them about us?” he asks cautiously.

“Fuck no. I don’t trust them. But maybe I can start by telling Adrian and Elle that they need to cut this shit out with the rivalry and apologize immediately.”

“Would they listen to you?”

I pull the cover off some kind of fancy egg nonsense with green stuff, considering it. “I don’t know,” I admit, “but I’d like to at least try to make it right first. If you’ll let me. And worst case, maybe I’ll learn something useful.”

The desperate offer I made last night rings in my ears. I could leave the band, walk away from everything I’ve built, risk every relationship in my life but this one. The possibility burns through my veins, tempting me and terrifying me.

“Okay,” Nico says. “First step will be you talking to Forbidden Destiny. That makes sense.”

“Right,” I agree. “I’ll just need to figure out what the fuck I’m going to say.”

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

NICO

I don’t leavethe hotel until dusk, and when I do, I sneak out a service elevator with one of Shadow’s gray scarves wrapped around my face.

I slide into the back of the car that’s waiting for me, and my muscles feel like pudding. I can’t recall precisely how processing over a breakfast feast turned into an afternoon of fucking, but I’m not surprised, either.

Sprawled out on the silky sheets, finally naked together, I lost myself exploring his body, the faded lines of his tattoos and the coarse brown hairs that grow across the top of his pecs. Shadow moved slow, playing with me, and the pure satisfaction of his touch was enough to drown my brain and wash my anxieties away.

Except now, dazed and exhausted, the real world is waiting right where I left it.

My phone buzzes as we leave downtown. It’s Damian, following up on several missed calls and unanswered texts.

“Did you see him?” he asks immediately when I answer, no hello.

I’m still confused about the particulars of Shadow being closeted. Am I allowed to tell my friends, for instance? But I know that Damian is trustworthy, and after the talk show stunt, I simply needed someone to help me not flip out, so telling him just kind of happened.

“Yeah, I went to the hotel.”

“And you let him have it?”

I swallow. “Well, I did express my frustrations and pose the questions we had talked about.”

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