Page 48 of Wild Stars

Dare looks me straight in my eyes, his perfect, pouty lips parted just slightly as he licks his lips with his tongue.

“Maybe you could help me?I mean, sometimes it helps when I play what I have for someone else to hear.Usually, it’s Richie, but he’s out with the guys, so...”

“You didn’t want to go out with your band?”I ask as I enter the doorway, setting my bag down on a table.

I brush off the torn up pieces of paper, sitting on the couch in the corner.

Dare shrugs.“Kinda don’t want to end up with a hangover for the third day in a row, you know.”He flashes me with a sheepish grin.

I sigh as I open my bag, pulling out the containers containing my meal, a bowl of Korean pork bibimbap and a side order of dumplings with chili crisp.

“Ah, so you can make good decisions,” I say, noting the shift in my tone.I hadn’t meant to sound so...taunting.

Dare lets out a chuckle as he leans back on his palms, his guitar in his lap.He eyeballs my food with interest.

“What is that?”he asks.

“Spicy as hell,” I reply with a shrug of my own.“You probably wouldn’t like it.”

“I like spicy,” he says, sniffing the air, licking his luscious lips.The sight makes my heart beat a little faster and I clear my throat.

“You have your pizza,” I nip as I protect my food.

Dare frowns, animatedly.

Like a sad puppy begging for a bite.

Something about the playfulness of his antics, the light in his voice, cuts me deep.I sigh in defeat once more as I hand him the container of dumplings.

“You may have one,” I say with sternness

Dare grins as he grabs the container from me.His smile is wicked as he makes direct eye contact while pluckingonedumpling from the container.

Little brat.

“What seems to be the problem?”I ask.

He devours his prize nearly instantly and hands me back my container, his sticky fingers brushing the edge of mine.

I watch as he licks them clean and proceeds to chew on his fingernails.

“I’m stuck on the chorus,” he says, and I toss him a pile of napkins.

“Thanks,” he says with a sheepish grin.

When he’s done, he strums some chords.

“It’s the hook, it just isn’t gelling, but I’m not sure what?—”

“Play,” I command.

To my surprise, he doesn’t fight me, just does as I say.

Heobeys.

“Okay, so...this is what I got...”

The sounds of his acoustic guitar fill the room again as he sings.

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