for days. And the reason is fucking obvious. It bothered me constantly how, after I'd confronted him in the dark hours half a week ago, Sean still hadn't reconciled with Lola. The piece of shit said he'd talk to her. He clearly hasn't. Do I need to corner him a second time?
“Now you're the one zoning out,” she said, perfect lips tilting in a smile.
If there wasn't a table between us, I would have pushed her down right then and kissed her taunting mouth. I settled for reaching across, stealing her fingers and guiding them over the notebook I'd set in front of her. “I asked what you thought of these lyrics so far?”
Like my touch had revitalized her, Lola squeezed my hands. Curls of her thick hair toppled her bare shoulders when she leaned down to read the words. I hadn't had anyone judge my song-writing skills in such a long time. Watching her scrutinize the bits of my brain and soul carved into ratty, lined paper was making my heart jump.
What if she hates it? Blood pounded in my ears. Fuck, it doesn't matter if she hates it. Why would that make a difference? I was sure my lungs were going to collapse from holding my breath. Of course it would make a difference. I want her to be impressed.
I'd never felt so vulnerable; I regretted handing her the lyrics.
Maybe I could grab them back?
“These are wonderful.” The pink blooming on her cheeks made her blue irises sparkle even brighter. “How did you write these so fast?”
Swallowing past the dry patch in my throat was difficult. “It's been almost a week since we decided to collaborate. That's plenty of time.” I'd poured over the words hourly between dreaming and waking. Writing a song like this—and did she understand what it was? —took every moment I had.
And Lola said it was wonderful.
The table between us was mattering less and less.
“I have a question, though,” she said. Pulling her hands from me, Lola turned the notebook around, brushing her nail down the paper. “Am I insane, or did you mark down a section for a second guitar?”
Now it was my turn to smile. “We'll play together.”
She dropped the notebook like it was a bomb. “Both of us?” I didn't understand the tension crawling across her forehead. What was she thinking about that had her so unsteady?
Leaning forward, I tucked her hair behind her ears. The way she bent into my touch made my jeans far too tight. Fuck, she works me up just by existing. “Is that a problem?”
Lola didn't relax, I felt her pulse under my palm. “It's fine. I didn't know you could play guitar, is all. It's... kind of weird to not know that about you.”
The bus seat rumpled when I fell back into it with my full weight. “I'm nowhere near as good as you, but I'm decent enough to play with if you'll lead.”
“How long have you been playing for?”
Grimacing at the memory of large hands guiding my own across the strings of a guitar, I hesitated. I don't want to go down that road. “Who knows,” I mumbled quickly. “I guess since I was a kid.”
“Then you learned from someone, like me. Was it a brother? Do you have any siblings at all?” There was an edge in her voice that left me confused.
“What? Why does that matter?”
Furrowing her eyebrows, Lola set her intense stare right on me. It was impossible to break away. “Because it's something about you I don't know. Tell me about your family, about learning to play. Just give me more information about yourself.”
“You're acting weird.” Lola flinched at my observation, but she didn't look close to backing off. What's this all about? Why the sudden digging into my life? “I don't like this inquisition. You're asking me things that don't matter.”
“Then what does matter?”
Grabbing my notebook, I spun it on the table, jammed my finger onto it. “This! Our final tour performance is tomorrow night. Let's start practicing so we can show everyone out there how serious this is!”
“Maybe you should show me how serious we are, first!” Scowling, Lola pushed out of the seat. “You said we were dating, that you're my boyfriend, but I hardly know anything about you!”
We hung on the precipice of destruction. I could see it in her eyes, knew she was about to storm off the bus if I didn't do something. Pulling in a lungful of air, I stood up to block