Page 25 of Heart of a Rebel

“You’re both coming out tonight, right?” Sebastian props his hip against the wall. “They’re sending us to the Mirage, and it’s supposed to be fucking epic.”

I’d believe him if he didn’t classify every place with free-flowing booze and short skirts that way.

“What time?” I ask, not particularly interested in another night of staying out until the sun comes up, but knowing someone has to keep an eye on them.

“Ten thirty.” Sebastian pushes off the wall and points a finger at me, then Eloise, as he backs away. “Be ready. This is just the beginning.”

I wish I could share in the excitement that stretches Sebastian’s face as he walks out of the hotel room. But I can’t help but sense something more ominous. Being here is like being dropped in Eden. Anything you could ask for. Tempting. Decadent. Not even the strongest wills can resist this after a while.

Turning back around, I see Eloise sitting on the bed, and I realize that I’m alone in her room with her. I followed Sebastian in without thinking, and now it’s just us, with the weight of whatever’s been unspoken since we held hands at the showcase heavy in the air.

I take a step back and tuck my hands in my pockets. “I should—”

“Adrian, can I ask you a question?” Eloise cuts me off.

Her smile falls from her face, and I miss it the moment it’s gone. I should say no and walk out the door. I should keep this professional. But the broken look in her eyes draws me straight in.

“Of course.”

She lets out a deep breath. “Do you think this is a good thing?”

I’m not sure what she’s talking about, and my face must show my confusion because she shakes her head and frowns.

“These guys are bad enough in our small town.” She waves her hand toward the door. “What do you think fame is going to do to them?”

It’s the same question that’s been plaguing me lately, so it shouldn’t surprise me that Eloise is worried. She’s not like the guys in the band. It’s rare she drinks or parties. She’s constantly got her guard up, and I’m not sure the last time she trusted someone enough to let loose around them.

Her shoulders deflate, and the sight of her defeat is unsettling. Eloise doesn’t show weakness. She holds her own regardless of who she’s around. But sitting in this hotel room, the fight in her eyes is flickering.

I walk over and sit on the bed next to her. It’s a dangerous place to put myself, but I feel her slipping away, which just makes me want to hold on.

She looks up at me, and this close I get the full force of the freckles on her cheeks. Stars that sprinkle the apples of them, tempting a man to wish for all the things he doesn’t feel worthy of. Beauty she hides under layers of makeup, but it’s bare for me in this moment.

I’m struck with awe, staring through the filter of Eloise Kane, seeing the girl underneath.

I might only be six years older than her, but she looks so damn young and innocent right now. She’s still yet to see all the things in the world that jump out and break you. If only I could protect her from them.

“I don’t know.” I shake my head, and the frown deepens on her face.

I’d like to lie and tell her what she wants to hear, that fame isn’t going to rip apart the already fraying edges, but I can’t bring myself to lie. If anyone deserves the truth, it’s her. Always.

Eloise sighs. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“But I’ll be here for you.” I pull my hands from my pockets and rest them on the bed. “For the band.”

I had it right the first time but can’t let her know that. Because even if I am here for all of them, looking into her eyes feels like a promise I can’t break.

“I know you will,” she says with a hint of a smile.

“Hey, I got you something.” I dig into my pocket and feel for the chain, hoping to cheer her up. “It’s just something small. I saw it when we were out at that street fair yesterday and it reminded me of the daisy tattoo on your shoulder.”

She might have a bouquet of tattooed flowers decorating one of her arms, but there’s something about the daisy that always seems to draw my attention. It’s gentle, symmetrical,perfect. Just like her.

Pulling the necklace out of my pocket, I hand it to her. A small silver flower dangles on a simple chain. It’s colorless, like the ones on her arms, with delicate petals.

“Congratulations on your record deal,” I say, and it feels really fucking corny, but she brings it out of me apparently.

Eloise freezes, staring at the necklace for a minute, with an unreadable expression on her face. The flower dangles between us like a question that I’m not sure how she’ll answer. What seemed like a nice gesture turns into a pressing weight, and I wonder if I’ve crossed some imaginary boundary by getting too comfortable.

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