amazing to be at a school where everyone shares the same passion.”
“I bet. I’m on the road so much, my interactions with other musicians aren’t nearly as frequent as you’d think. I mean, yeah, I know amazing people in the industry. And I love going to parties or hanging out with them. But it’s not like what you’re doing.”
“Well, I think every student at Berklee would kill to trade places with you. What you’re doing is the dream.”
She’s right, of course, and I know it. But I also know the realities of this “dream” can be a bit more challenging than anyone on the outside understands. But there’s no need to tell her about that, when she’s looking at me like I walk on water. “So, humor me,” I say. “Do you have a favorite 22 Goats song? I know it’s the height of narcissism to ask that question, but I can’t resist. I’m putty in your hands, Alessandra the Lioness. Dying to hear whatever nugget of brilliance is going to come out of your mouth next.”
“My mouth? Are you crazy? I’m hanging on your every word!”
We share a huge smile. And, suddenly, I’m feeling fucking helicopters. But not only that, a weird kind of tightness in my chest, too. Tingles on my skin. She’s so damned pretty. And now I find out she’s got an awesome personality, too?
“I really couldn’t pick my favorite 22 Goats song,” she declares. “That’d be like a mother picking her favorite child.”
“My mother has no problem doing that.”
“Are you an only child?”
“I am.”
Alessandra laughs. “Me, too. My mother calls me her ‘favorite daughter’ all the time.” She shrugs. “Seriously, the best I could do, maybe, would be naming a ‘favorite’ off each of your four albums. But even that would be pure torture for me and come with the disclaimer that my ‘favorite’ could change at any minute.”
“The small print shall clearly state you can change your mind at any time.”
“No small print. Big, huge font.”
“Deal.”
“All right, then. I’ll torture myself.” She flashes me a smile that sends arousal straight into my cock, forcing me to cover my swim trunks with my forearm again. “I’ll have you know, though,” she says, batting her eyelashes. “I’d never, ever pick a favorite 22 Goats song—let alone one off each freaking album—for anyone in the whole, wide world but you, Fish.” She pauses. “Matthew.”
Five
Fish
Alessandra twists her mouth, considering which song to pick as her favorite off my band’s self-titled first album. And as she does, I can’t help staring at her plush lips. Wondering what it would be like to kiss them. They’re stained with the faintest hint of cherry red. It’s not a pinup girl red. More like she’s wearing cherry lip balm. If I kissed those full lips right now, would they taste sweet, like cherries?
“Okay,” Alessandra finally says, drawing my gaze from her lips to her blinking blue eyes. “I hate myself for being obvious, but I think I have to go with ‘People Like Us.’ But only because that was the first 22 Goats song I ever heard, and it hit me like a ton of bricks.” She sighs dreamily. “There’s nothing like a girl’s first love.” Her breathing halts. “In music. First love in music.”
I smile. “I know what you meant.”
She shifts position on her lounger. “I’m not a stalker, Fish. I swear.”
“Yeah, I’ve gathered that. If you are, you’re doing a shitty job of it. You’re far too sane.”
She exhales with relief.
“Out of curiosity, did ‘People Like Us’ ‘hit you like a ton of bricks’ before or after you saw the music video?”
She palms her forehead. “Oh, God, that video! I’m sure half those billion views were mine!”
Okay, I’ve definitely had this particular conversation before. Many times. Also, I’ve seen the look on Alessandra’s face, too, on every girl who’s been talking about that music video. And it’s no wonder. Our debut video went batshit viral, thanks not only to the dope song, but also to Dax’s golden-god, naked perfection. Colin and I appeared in that video, too, of course, in the performance scenes and a B-line subplot meant for comedic effect. But, undoubtedly, the reason that video launched 22 Goats into the stratosphere was Dax Morgan and those glimpses of his naked ass as he rolled around on a white-sand beach with a stunning supermodel.
“Dax actually hates that music video,” I confess.
“No.”
“Yep. He appreciates that it launched us into the stratosphere, as designed. The entire goal of that thing was