Page 66 of Hold Still

His hands drop to my ass. “I’ll show you what fits.”

RE-DRESSED, WE MAKEour way into the music room. I excuse myself and go to the bathroom to try to fix the mess of my hair and makeup. With only limited supplies, I do my best and return carrying two iced teas.

He takes his cup. “Thanks, Dulcita.” While he begins playing ‘Take Me,’ I set up my laptop.

Truth.

I promised myself I’d tell him the truth about my deadline. Here goes. “Felicia from the Project called me this morning. She wants to have my submission ready by next week.” I suck in my breath.

“How many songs do you need?”

“Three. Maybe four.” I keep my eyes trained on booting up my computer.

“Okay.”

My eyes snap to his. “Okay?”

He nods. “I have ‘Take Me’ basically done, and ‘Honesty’ is in pretty good shape. I’ve been kicking around some new melodies. Let’s get to work and see what we come up with.”

The next three days flash by in a blur. He writes, I create graphics. Sometimes my graphics change his songs. We work together and have sex. Good sex. Like really, really good sex.

But, I always come up with an excuse as to why I can’t go to his concerts. How many more times can I can pull shit out of thin air before he starts questioning me? It’s not that I want to return home every night—alone. Yet it’s easier to hide the truth than to let him in.

Because if I did, there’s no chance he’d be able handle it.

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