Page 88 of A Duet of Darkness and Dreams

“Will you all just fuck off?” I shout, head pounding.

They go quiet for a few minutes before James finally says, “Dave, I told you to stay away from her thinking you’d break her heart. But if you have real feelings for her, then go for it.”

“I don’t have feelings for her,” I lie. “It was one night to work it out of our systems and I’m sorry I broke that promise to you,James, but she and I both agreed to it. Now, everything can go back to normal.”

“It’s okay to like a woman for more than one night.”

Not for me it isn’t. “I appreciate the concern, but we’re not the same, James. And I don’t need to stand here and convince any of you.”

James shakes his head and holds up his hands, then he turns toward the house and disappears back inside.

“Dave,” Joel starts, but I glare daggers at them both.

“No offense, guys, but I don’t want or need your advice on this,” I say sternly.

“Fine,” Key says, crossing his arms over his chest. “But you better be nice to her today. This may have been some onetime thing you two decided on, but she’s still coming on tour with us—to write about us—don’t fuck it up by being an asshole.”

I tilt my head back and sigh. “I know . . . Iknow. I won’t. She’s not like the others anyway.” I catch the way that Joel and Key look at each other. “I just mean, she’s myfriendand other than what happened between us last night, I won’t do anything to jeopardize that.”

“Whatever you say, man,” Joel says, and they both turn to head back inside.

They leave me on the patio, and a sudden strong gust of wind lifts my hair and makes me shiver. I pull out another cigarette and light it, inhaling the calming smoke. It’s fine. This is fine. Izzy and I—Isabellaand I, we’re adults. Adults who both made a consensual decision last night to rid ourselves of some pent-up sexual tension. Now that it’s over, we can move on, focus on what we’re supposed to be doing over the next couple of months, not obsess about what the other person is doing when they’re around—or not around.

It’s fine.

Even though I can’t stop the memory of her lips as she moans,the way her legs shake right before she comes, the way she fits me so perfectly. Like the satisfying way a puzzle piece slots into place after searching for it for hours, days, years. I flick the cigarette away and take a deep breath before walking back inside.

They’re all still there, avoiding my eyes, carrying on with exchanging modest presents and talking about the upcoming tour, when I spy Isabella peek her head out from the hallway.

Don’t fuck it up by being an asshole.

Key’s words twist my stomach, but the way she looks right now—how could I ever be intentionally mean to someone so perfect? Her dark hair is a tousled mess. Her lips still a little swollen because ofme. It makes me want to scoop her up and take her back to bed. But that wasn’t the deal. The deal was one night, so . . . why do I suddenly want more? I’ve never wanted more. Not since—

“Merry Christmas everyone,” Isabella says joyfully as she waltzes in.

Everyone looks up, unsure of exactly what to say as she sits down on the arm of the couch.

“Merry Christmas,” Becks says with a smile. “Do you want something to eat? Or maybe you need some coffee?”

“Definitely coffee, but I can get it,” she says with a smile, before turning and heading into the kitchen.

Four pairs of eyes turn pointedly back to me, the sound of cupboards opening and closing a soundtrack to my discomfort. James crosses his arms and Becks gives a very deliberate tilt of her head. I get the hint and push myself up off the couch, ready to have a conversation that I’m sure my friends will be straining to overhear.

Turning the corner, I watch as Isabella pours herself a cup of coffee from the carafe and adds her cream and sugar. She turns her head when I enter, a smile on her face.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey.”

She stirs her coffee, the spoon clinking around in her cup before she takes a long sip and sighs.

“So, I’m guessing everyone knows?” she says, not looking up from her mug.

“Yeah.” I nod, the awkwardness now palpable. “I tried to deny it but . . . apparently they heard us.”

The blush starts all the way from her chest, rushing up her throat to her cheeks and her ears. “Oh.”

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

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