My Life as a Holiday Album (My Life as an Album #5) - L.J. Evans Page 0,59

I said with a growl.

“We need him. His name is on the contract, too. He’s the composer and the entire musical team. You and I can’t make that shit.”

This did get my goat. I turned to him with a flash of anger. “I’m damn good at writing lyrics, thank you very much.”

Cole held up his hands. “I know, I know. But neither of us know enough about actually writing the music that goes with them.”

I couldn’t argue that. Neither one of us were musical geniuses like the Asshole.

Cole said quietly, softly, as if he didn’t want to send me over the edge, “The screenplay is his baby, too.”

It was the truth. The three of us had poured our hearts and souls into it.

I didn’t respond. I just got out of the car and slammed the door as hard as I could. I didn’t care if it broke the speakers. I didn’t care if they’d now sound like permanent static. It was good to let off the steam that had been building inside me for days.

I tugged at my leather skirt, making sure it wasn’t showing more than I wanted it to show. The Asshole had always liked my skirts. This skirt was similar to the one that had gotten me into this predicament to begin with. The one I shouldn’t have worn that day, just like I probably shouldn’t have worn it today. But it felt like my armor. As if the black leather and cotton could bounce his charisma away before it sank into me.

I stomped up the steps of the charming ranch house. It was the epitome of the South: sweet tea, swings, and porches. As gorgeous as it was, the Asshole hadn’t loved growing up here. He’d always felt like a duck out of water. Or maybe a neon light out of the city.

The Asshole’s sister opened the door and wrapped me in a hug I hadn’t expected. That was the one thing you could count on with this clan. Hugs and smiles. It was like someone had taken The Brady Bunch and The Waltons, thrown them together with a hint of Nashville, and called it a family.

“Gracie-Lou!” she said as she squeezed me, and I ground my teeth together to prevent from snapping back at her. The Asshole’s mom had started the nickname back when I was little, and somehow it had stuck in a way I didn’t understand.

When Khiley finally let me go, I turned toward Mayson, and my heartbeat increased about twentyfold, that fight-or-flight adrenaline rush pounding through me again. My body was caught between wanting to do both. Wanting to punch him in his perfect nose and wanting to run away and hide.

Tall. Dark. Handsome. Mayson looked like someone had flung old-school Chris Hemsworth and Scott Eastwood into a baby maker and gotten this gorgeous human being. I seriously heard Avengers’ music playing in the background just looking at him. As if the music haloed around him. When’d he’d first moved to LA and become Cole’s roommate, I had been oblivious to his looks. Probably because we’d known each other as little kids, and there was nothing sexy about that. Probably because we’d circled around Cole instead of each other.

But that hadn’t lasted long—days…maybe a few weeks. The more time we’d spent together, the more I’d been attracted to him. I’d ignored it at first―ignored it for years―just like he’d ignored it. Right up until the moment he’d kissed me and everything had changed.

“Grace,” he said, and I heard the plea in it. The plea had been in every goddamn text he’d sent me over the last few months. He followed my name with, “God, you look good,” in a tone that made my entire body flare to life. Especially the bits that were barely hidden by my black crop top and miniskirt. God, I wanted to hate it.

“Asshole,” I said back.

I saw Khiley’s surprised look. I heard Cole’s sigh as he came in behind me, but I couldn’t have done more right now. This was as much as I could say without caving in a way I’d regret when I was alone at night.

“Okay. Well, it was nice to see you both, but I’m off. Don’t forget to be at the bar at five for happy hour, Mayson,” Khiley said to the Asshole before grabbing her keys and her purse and heading out the door.

The silence sat heavily amongst us as the Asshole and I stared at each other. When I couldn’t