Back when this was just an infatuation, I at least knew how to function without her. But now that I’ve tasted her...
I can’t concentrate. Can’t break through the walls of my creative well the way I used to. The song I should have finished days ago still isn’t done.
Because all I can think about is her.
Her scent. Her smile. Her song.
I want it. I want her. I want?—
The golden elevator doors slide open.
Before I can step inside, I lock eyes with the man standing in the middle of it.
Katrina’s brother, Knox Benton.
He takes one look at me and scoffs. “Great,” he spits the word like bile. “Of course.”
“Knox,” I say, braving a step forward into the car. “Going down?”
He doesn’t answer. Just shifts to the side, making room. I glance at the numbers on the wall. The only one lit isLfor Lobby. I press it again, and the doors slide closed.
The car begins its slow descent.
I shouldn’t, but I do. I look over. His head stays forward, his neck locked in place, his eyes fixed on the glowing numbers ticking down.
“So, how are things?” I ask.
He exhales sharply, barely tilting his head. “Excuse me?”
“How are things?” I repeat, casually. “With you?”
His glare tightens.
“All ready for the Battle of the Bands?” I ask.
“Yeah, no,” Knox mutters, shaking his head. “We’re not doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Whatever the hell you’re doing right now.”
“I’m just making conversation.”
“We don’t make conversation, Shock.” His voice is steel. “We’re not buds. We’re not pals. So just keep your mouth shut, all right?”
“Ah,” I murmur, amused. “Nervous about the big night, are we?”
His jaw flexes. The muscle jumps.
Damn. I forgot how fun this is.
Knox shakes his head, eyes locked straight ahead. “Just shut up,” he says, voice so low it could cut grass. “And stay the fuck away from my sister.”
My smirk lingers. “What was that?”
“You heard me.” His glare finds mine in the reflective elevator doors. “Stay away from Katrina.”
I tilt my head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”