Destroyed (Lost in Oblivion, #3)(59)
She grinned and he stopped. “What?”
“I don’t see you smile all that often, Violin Girl.”
She brought her hand up to her mouth to cover the bigger laugh trying to bubble up. “I’m just picturing you in all black, curled over the wheel and zipping down the paths of SPAC.”
“I’ll have you know I’m a very good golf cart driver. Fastest on the block.”
She curled her arm across her middle to hold in the giggle she felt building. “Simon Kagan, golf cart thief, tops off his night with a little stolen sex.”
“Worth it.”
Her laughter caved in on itself and she put it in the little drawer where she hid her few pleasures. “I’d have to agree.”
“Good.” He nodded across the street. “We need to cross.”
“No, that’s okay. You have to go down that way, don’t you?”
“Know where your ice cream is, huh?”
“A Ben & Jerry’s shop? Of course.”
“Need I ask?”
She licked her top lip. “Ask what?”
“What’s your flavor, Violin Girl?”
“Oh. Well…”
“If you tell me vanilla, I’m taking away that rockstar cello and not returning it. I will find a way to learn how to play it.”
She laughed. “Hazed and Confused.”
“I don’t think I know that one.”
“All sorts of hazelnut and caramel goodness.”
He stepped closer to her. “So you like salty and sweet?”
Her heartbeat filled her head and pulsed between her thighs. She’d been studiously ignoring the fact that her inner thighs were still slick from before and she was deathly afraid a freak wind would blow her skirt up so her bare butt would be on display. But now with that question hanging between them, she was acutely aware of her body again.
It was a constant struggle around Simon. And now she wanted to go on tour with him? With them? In close quarters.
Masochist.
She stepped back. The way his eyes faded from intent and flirtatious back to indifferent sliced at her. Emotions didn’t belong in their equation.
He moved to her side again, his hand hovering at the small of her back. “I’ll walk you to the door.”
“I’ll be fine. The street’s lit up like a Christmas tree.”
“Don’t want to be seen with me, Violin Girl?” With his distinct brow line, she couldn’t read his eyes. They were hidden in shadow, but his mouth seemed hard. The usual smirk gone.
She cleared her throat and shook her hair back. “Lila figured us out from the start, but there’s no need to throw it in her face.”
“And when we tour?”
“I haven’t been accepted yet.”
“You will. Nick still has his back up like a pissed off cat, but he’s already settling down.”
She tipped her head to the side. “How do you know?”
“Besides the fact that I’ve known him since we were kids, I know his tells.”
“Enlighten me.”
“He came back after he walked off his mad. If he was really against it, he wouldn’t have returned.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
Simon nodded. “He came back and he played. He came back because he know how good it was at the release parties. He might play it off like he doesn’t pay attention to the ins and outs of the business, but he watches and analyzes everything.” He swiped his hand down his face. “He and Deacon started discussing arrangements long before you came to rehearsals. He was already looking for ways to layer in the guitars to mimic your violin.”
Her belly jittered. God, could it be true? She didn’t even want to voice how much she wanted this.
She stepped into the street and turned to him. “I guess we’ll be figuring that out tomorrow.”
He dipped his hands into his pockets. “I guess we will.”
* * *
Simon dunked his head under the tap in the bathroom of the venue. Cold water sluiced around his neck to his jaw and dripped down his chin.
It was ass hot today and his f*cking throat was on fire.
Allergies? Worse?
He didn’t know and was afraid to know.
He’d brought down his voice a few octaves during rehearsals to the easier mid-registers and it helped. He had to save his voice for the real stage, in spite of Nick’s perfectionist nature that normally required them to rehearse six, seven, eleven times for each song. His best friend would’ve bitched out loud except they’d actually gotten somewhere. The songs were tighter, and Margo’s violin and cello were becoming part of their sound.
Her face as each song came together was enough to keep his dick hard all damn day.
It was the only thing that kept the panic out of his belly about his voice. No one seemed to notice. He usually tried to modulate it for rehearsals, anyway.
But f*ck, he was struggling. He leaned against the tiled wall and sunk to a crouch. With a shaking hand, he drew his phone out of his pocket and pulled up a search page.
The first search was for changing voice and that was way too broad. Voice cracking went into a terrifying territory that made him shut his phone off.
Vocal hemorrhage.