Reckless (Thoughtless, #3)(63)

Looking very uncomfortable, Kellan scratched his head. Tory was standing beside me, but she looked like a coiled viper, ready to strike out at the DJs if they asked just the wrong question, or at Kellan, if he answered in a way that the label didn’t want him to. Just standing beside her pent-up energy made me nervous. Finally, Kellan murmured, “Ah . . . our single is out today . . . the album drops in September.”

Both DJs laughed at his sad attempt to change the subject, knowing smiles on their faces. I felt a sharp sting jolt through my body, like a Band-Aid had just been ripped off of my soul. He’d done it. By dodging their question, Kellan had just confirmed his relationship with Sienna. Where that was going to go from there, I didn’t know, but I knew it had just started. The match had been struck with Kellan’s answer; I just prayed the resulting fire was small and easily contained.

Kellan looked over at me, an apology in his eyes. I kept up my encouraging smile. It didn’t matter what the public thought. We knew the truth.

The DJs spent the next few minutes talking with each boy in turn. Evan seemed completely at ease as he gushed about Jenny. Matt seemed like he hated every second of being interviewed, and was even vaguer about his life than Kellan. Griffin ate up the attention like a starving dog downing its bowl of kibble. He told all of Los Angeles about his “availability” should any of them want a private performance. But then he went on to mention that he was about to have to kid with his girl. I had no idea if he was being serious about his single status, or if he was just playing up the rock star image. Either way, I was surprised that he mentioned Anna and his soon-to-be child.

The boys set up to play after that. Griffin and Matt both grabbed acoustic guitars while Evan sat behind a compact drum that one of the assistants must have brought in. Kellan stood at a microphone, looking comfortable and relaxed. I would be sweating bullets if I were him, about to perform to thousands of people, maybe hundreds of thousands if they broadcasted online. And performing acoustically was even more of a challenge; no searing electric guitar to hide your flaws. But Kellan was pretty flawless, so I knew he’d do well.

When the DJs gave them the go-ahead, Evan started the intro. Griffin and Matt joined in on their part with Kellan a few beats after them. The first portion of the song was quiet, but Kellan’s smooth voice still filled the small space. When the song switched to a more emotional section, his voice was powerful, commanding, and yet heartbreaking too. As I knew he would be, Kellan was perfect. What the audience was now discovering about him was something that I’d known from the very beginning—Kellan was so much more than a pretty face. He had genuine talent.

Equally talented, Sienna nailed her part when it came up. The two singers were standing side-by-side, each lightly keeping time to the music with their bodies, but when the song switched into a battle of wills, the pair turned to sing directly at each other. Maybe it was the moment, maybe it was the song, maybe it was the look on Kellan’s face as he sneered at Sienna, but I had goose bumps by the end.

I felt like clapping when it was over, but the DJs immediately started in on the praises, so I didn’t. I wanted the whole world to hear how amazing the D-Bags were. And it looked like the world was hearing it. A computer screen in front of the male DJ showed a never-ending stream of text messages from listeners. The feedback was unbelievable. “Wow! I can’t believe that was live! Who are these guys, because I need to buy their album! Sienna was great, but Kellan . . . good God! If he looks half as good as he sounds, I might die right on the spot! D-Bag fan for life!”

The accolades went on and on and on. Everyone was blown away. My chest was bursting apart, I was so damn proud of him!

The guys packed up, then said their goodbyes. Kellan was all smiles as we left the studio. Scooping me up, he twirled me in the air as members of our assemblage passed by. Sienna eyed us with a strange expression, but didn’t say anything. He set me down by the elevators just as a car dinged open. Ducking us inside, Kellan hit the “close door” button before anyone else could enter. He waved at Sienna and Tory through the crack, then twisted to me.

A little boy grin on his face, he asked, “How was it?”

I shook my head, wondering if he was aware that my answer to that question was always going to be the same. Tossing my arms around his neck as the falling elevator made my stomach shift, I told him, “Amazing! Perfect! Wonderful! I could go on and on.”

Pressing me against the back wall, Kellan murmured, “Maybe later,” as he leaned in to kiss me. He stopped right before our lips met. I think I whimpered. Pulling back, he seemed concerned. “Sienna kissed me . . . I feel like I should bleach my lips before I kiss you.”

Smirking at him, I pulled his mouth to mine. “I think I’ll live.”

As our mouths moved together, I silently wished that we were on the top floor of a very tall building. As Kellan’s tongue brushed against mine, his hips pushing me against the wall as his fingers slipped under my shirt to caress the indentation of my lower back, I knew that no building on earth could have possibly been tall enough.

When the car stopped, Kellan released me. Face contrite, he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Feeling a little drunk from our short, heated moment, I responded with a laugh. “You don’t ever have to be sorry for that.”

Pulling me past the small swarm of people trying to enter the elevator, Kellan shook his head. “No, for earlier, in the interview . . . when I didn’t say anything about you.” Stopping us, he twisted to look at me. “I really wanted to.”