Page 9 of A Duet of Darkness and Dreams

I shake my head, flicking away the burnt-out cigarette between my fingers. “No, you didn’t do anything. Sorry if I made you feel that way. I was just stressed over the busted cable.”

“I’m glad you were able to fix the problem or I would’ve had a far lessinterestingnight.”

She smirks, and a laugh escapes me at her joke. In truth, it was the strangest thing. When I’d checked that cupboard Arnie pointed out earlier, there had been nothing. I looked and looked but it was empty and definitely wasn’t housing amplifier cables. But when I checked again after Isabella went off with Becks, there it was. And on the floor was a small plastic keychain.

I’d picked it up, not thinking much of the little cloud-covered sun, but the words on the keychain had struck me.

Dreams are forged out of darkness.

That got me—a simple phrase that resonates so succinctly with me that I pocketed the keychain, not even bothering to look around for the owner. To be fair, there were no keys attached and the little metal clasp was broken. Lo and behold though, the moment that keychain was in my pocket, guess what I found? Another cable.

“Yeah, I was lucky.”

She smiles, that glorious dimple indenting her cheek. My skin tingles with the desire to touch it. To touch her. To wrap that silky hair around my finger again and feel her breath on my face. Butshe’s Becks’s friend, and I made a promise. I can’t fuck that up, so I take a step back to get some air.

“You seem like a cool chick,” I say, my voice strained as I look away. “I’m glad Becks finally has a friend here.”

“Thanks,” she says, her smile disappearing. “I suppose I might see you again. You know, being her friend and all.”

Fuck, I didn’t think of that. I’ll likely see her more often than is good for me. I’ll see her, and every time I’ll have to control myself. Not overstep. Not flirt too much, which is generally hard for me. Why couldn’t Becks have made friends with a dull troll?

“Well, I’m usually pretty busy. I don’t have much of a life outside of playing music right now.”

“Right.”

She frowns, looking down at her feet. Shit, that sounded like I don’t want to see her at all.Fuck, why is this going so bad?I don’t want her to hate me.

“Well, I should head back inside.” She steps past me, heading for the door, and something inside me aches. I don’t want this conversation to end. I know it also can’t progress to where I want, but I don’t want her to think I’m an asshole.

“It’s how I understand people,” I blurt out.

She stops in her tracks then spins around to face me, head cocked to the side. “What?”

I take a step toward her. “You asked earlier why we chose to do this, to be musicians.”

Her eyes flick between mine, waiting for me to continue. I take a deep breath and sigh.

“I—I’ve never been good at understanding people. I can be too trusting, too optimistic, too oblivious for my own good. Being able to recognize people’s patterns, it gives me insight into who they really are. How they’re feeling. Like my own personal litmus test.”

“Oh,” she exhales in a breathless whisper.

I bite down on my lip and shrug. “Drumming is rhythm and pattern. Everything has a rhythm—a way it should sound. When someone isn’t being honest, their rhythm falters. It . . . helps me, I guess.”

I look away, unable to handle the intensity of those brown eyes, so I brush my hair away from my face.

“Wow,” she finally says. “That was— Thank you, that answer was . . . great.”

“You’re welcome.”

“What does it tell you about me?” she asks.

I pause to think. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Baby! What are you doing out here? You’re missing all the fun.” Arms wrap around my neck, the smell of some candy-like perfume permeating the air until my head is swimming in it. Bleach blonde hair obscures my vision as the girl from earlier presses her body into mine. She hangs off of me, and I can’t help but grab her around the waist to keep her standing.

“Just having a smoke, and talking to—” I break off. Isabella is gone, and her long dark hair is already disappearing through the door.

Fingers grasp my face, and my gaze is pulled away from the door to find large blue eyes covered in blue eyeshadow. “Talking to who?”

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