Page 103 of A Duet of Darkness and Dreams

I spin around and watch as his eyes look up to meet mine. “You think so?”

“Definitely.”

I smile, and so does he. Wait, what’s happening here? Is this what friends do? Do men usually pick out clothes for their female friends to try on? If it isn’t, it should be. Dave has great taste.

“I think I’ll try on that halter top next.”

The halter top is another great pick. Who knew a metalhead who wears nothing but ripped shirts and faded jeans knew so much about what looks good on a woman? Actually, never mind. Maybe I don’t want to know.

“What do you think about this one?” I ask, showing off the backless halter. The shirt is barely a shirt. It’s more like a loin cloth for my chest. A singular scrap of silver fabric that barelycovers my breasts, but maybe that’s why he picked it. It dawns on me then that he’s drinking me in and it causes a flush to spread over my entire body. Is he thinking about what I look like with nothing on? He can picture me anytime he wants now.

He needs to stop looking at me like that.

“I think I’ll just try on the jacket now,” I mumble. I rush out of the halter top, put on my T-shirt from earlier, and pull on the navy puffer jacket. The whole reason I came in here in the first place. Stepping out from behind the curtain, I do a quick turn in the mirror to make sure it fits right. “Okay, this works. Let’s go.”

“Whoa, Izzy,” Dave says, standing to grab my arm. “What’s wrong? You didn’t even try on the other jacket.”

I blink. “Sorry, I uh . . . I just feel bad that I’m taking up the change room when I don’t plan on buying anything but this.”

His forehead wrinkles and he looks around. “It’s eight thirty in the morning. No one else is here.”

“Fine, I just—everything is so expensive and I don’t want to damage the clothes then have to pay for them.”

“I’ll pay for them.”

What I planned to say next dies in my throat. “Wh—what?”

He looks at the items I tried on. “I’ll get them for you. You know, as a ‘welcome on tour’ present.”

“You . . . you can’t,” I say, unable to verbalize anything else.What is happening?

“Yes, I can. I’ve made really good money so far on tour and from the album, and while I’m no millionaire, I can afford to buy my friend a few things to wear to parties.”

My eyes search his face. “I can’t possibly accept,” I whisper.

He huffs. “Why not? If you hadn’t written those articles, I might not even be on tour and I definitely wouldn’t have money to burn. Let me spend it on you.” His face softens. “Let me spoil you.”

Oh god, this man knows how to pull on my heartstrings. “Okay, fine.”

He grins, and an involuntary chuckle escapes my mouth at how happy he seems. He gestures to the lady and points to the pile of clothes I left in the changeroom. “We’ll take them all, thanks.”

“Wait,” I say, “I didn’t mean everything! I haven’t even tried on the white jacket yet.”

“It’ll fit,” he says matter-of-factly.

“You’re awfully confident about that.”

He shrugs but grabs all of the items, including the beautiful white leather jacket, and heads to the cash register.

Wrapped up in my new navy coat, I let Dave lead us back toward the theater and tour bus, fresh coffee in hand.

“So,” I start hesitantly. “How’s the tour been going? Are you enjoying it?”

He shoves his hands in his back pockets as he walks. “Yeah, I mean . . . this was always the dream. It’s totally surreal, but we’ve been able to meet so many other bands and people in the business. Did James tell you about the night it rained for our whole set? I have to admit, as much as I thought touring would be the best time of my life, I find myself wanting to be home more often than not.”

Something swells in my chest. “I can imagine it’s hard. Sleeping in bunks and always on the go.”

His brow furrows but he doesn’t say anymore.

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