Page 23 of The Masks We Wear

I quirk a brow, “All day?”

Harvey nods, “It’s dinner time, Little Rockstar. You lost track of time.Again.” He emphasizes the last word but not with disdain or irritation. It sounds almost like he’s fascinated or impressed. There’s also a very small note of pride in his voice and in his eyes but I can’t imagine why.

A flicker of a smile tries to worm its way onto my face, but I force it away, completely confused as to why anything this man says would elicit a smile from me, though I can’t deny. The way the nickname “Little Rockstar” rolls off his tongue has a certain allure to it. It comes out of his mouth coated in honey and poison.

I take another step towards the top and he moves to the side, giving me room to slip past him. We walk silently to the kitchen and seat ourselves next to each other at the island. There aretwo plates of food for each of us and I know from the plating alone that my chef made it. “Chef was here?” I ask.

He nods. “Yes. She was here for hours but you didn’t notice because you were in your own little world.” Again, it doesn’t come out mocking.

“Is that a bad thing?” I raise a brow as I stab a piece of chicken with my fork and bring it to my mouth.

He shakes his head as he tears into his own dinner. “Not at all. It just fascinates me. I don’t know how you do it.”

I cock my head, “How I make music?”

He turns his head to meet my gaze, his onyx-colored eyes peering right into my soul. “No, how you lose yourself in it. It consumes you completely and I’ve never seen anything like it.”

I smirk, “Well, when you’re passionate about something and you love it with every ounce of your being, work doesn’t feel like work. I love music so much I never feel like I’m working when I’m actually working if that makes sense. It’s easy to lose track of time, the notes just start playing in my head and it’s like a big puzzle I have to solve. I always have a few pieces but there’s always so much missing and I can’t stop until I find them all and put them together.” I ramble on and feel the tips of my ears turn red with my embarrassment once I stop speaking. He could probably care less about anything I just said.

But when I look at him, it doesn’t look like disinterest on his face. It looks like intrigue, curiosity. “It must be nice to have something that makes you feel that way.” He says as he forces his gaze back to his plate.

I furrow my brows as a frown takes over my face. “You don’t have any passions? Hobbies?” I question. I can’t imagine not having music. What must it feel like to not have anything at all? A cold feeling washes over me and I feel the hair on the back of my neck rise with the thought. Harvey must have something that makes him feel the way music makes me feel.

He shakes his head, “No. Hobbies are a waste of time. There isn’t much room for passions and hobbies in my line of work.”

I feel a crack in my chest at how lonely that must make him feel. I never feel alone even when I am alone because I always have my music to comfort me. I can’t imagine not having anything and that must be what it’s like for him all the time. As much as I’d hate to admit it, I feel a twinge of sympathy for him. “They aren’t a waste of time if they’re something you love. You just haven’t found a true passion yet.”

He snorts a laugh, “Since when are you in the business of lecturing me? That’s my job, remember?”

I can’t help but laugh even though I know he’s only trying to change the subject. “I think I’ve spent too much time around you. Pretty soon I’ll start waking up at the crack ass of dawn every morning and then showing my face in the same white button down and black slacks every day, scolding you and demanding you pee in a cup for me.”

The roar of laughter that escapes his throat is completely unexpected and almost stuns me for a second. I grin at the sound. It’s so pure and melodic, I find that I want to hear it again. His smile is so genuine I almost convince myself I’m dreaming because Harvey Taylor would never look at me and laugh, let alone smile. I’m so lost in the sight of his flawless smile that I almost forget about my earlier phone call with Beatrix and the absolute shit show that my relationship with my friends has become. Once the high of his smile vanishes, the after high sadness comes back and I remember just how messy my life has gotten.

I look down, my smile only a faded memory as I focus on my food. Everything starts to taste like cardboard and gets harder and harder to force down. I feel Harvey’s eyes on my face as I chew but don’t look at him. I just keep my head down and my eyes forward. We finish the meal in silence, and I leave my platein the sink and start walking up to my room to change and go to bed. I know it’s early, it’s only eight thirty, but my brain hurts and my eyes are starting to burn. I’ve spent hours and hours thinking and exhausting myself mentally with making music, my brain could use some rest. I also don’t have anything else to do. I’m sure right now, Aria and Ivory are out at some club without me, high as kites, and drunk off their asses.

“Brody,” Harvey calls from the foot of the stairs.

I stop moving and turn to face him. I’m almost all the way upstairs, my room and cozy pajamas just around the bend, please don’t let this be a dignity thieving, surprise drug test. “What?”

He stuffs his hands in his pockets uncomfortably and asks awkwardly, “Do you want to watch one of those mafia movies you like?”

I open my mouth, but no words come out. Did Harvey Taylor just ask me to watch a movie with him? First a laugh, then a smile, and now he wants to watch a movie. Where is the real Harvey Taylor who hates me and who is this strange man looking up at me from the foot of the stairs? He looks uncomfortable like he almost wishes he didn’t ask but he waits to hear my response. This is so out of character for him I speak before he can change his mind, “Sure. I’ll be right down.”

He nods, “I’ll put it on the TV. Do you want popcorn?”

“Sure,” my lips twitch into a smile.

He turns on his heel and hurries out of the room as if he’s been dying to get away this whole time. I can tell it makes him extremely uncomfortable to be kind to me but let’s keep it real here, I’m growing on him and he doesn’t want to admit it. That’s why it bothers him so much to offer me anything but furrowed brows and frowns. I hurry up the last few stairs and into my room, quickly changing into a cozy pair of gray sweatpants and a matching gray crew neck. I march back down the stairs and intothe theater, the whole time still in complete shock and disarray that Harvey initiated the movie watching. I know he enjoys the movies or at least enjoys not being alone and sitting in the theater with me when I watch them, but he never initiates it on his own and we never speak about it during or after the movies end.

When I enter the theater, I find him seated in his usual spot at the end of the couch. The TV shows the title scene for “Goodfellas,” my all-time favorite and I notice the bowl of popcorn placed on the further end of the couch on a tray. I take up my usual spot at the opposite end from him and wrap myself in a fluffy red blanket. Harvey presses play and the movie starts, but the whole time, I can’t focus on anything aside from the man seated at the other end of the couch. The characters in the movie speak and key plot information happens but still, I can’t focus on anything but Harvey’s presence and the heat I feel between my legs at the mere thought of him.

“Why do you keep squirming?” He asks, a brow raised and a note of irritation in his voice.

I thank God silently that the room is dark, and he can’t see how red my face has gotten. “It’s hot in here.” I toss the blanket off me and grab the bowl of popcorn just to have something to do with my hands.

Neither of us continues the conversation as the movie continues and for the first time in my life, I’m peeved by the length of my favorite movie. I have to sit in Harvey’s presence for two hours with my legs crossed at the ankles when I’d rather be anywhere else doing anything else. Fuck, why did I agree to this?

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