Page 31 of Feuds and Interludes
“That could have gone smoother.” I took my time getting dressed, and by the time I got outside, set the electronic lock on the studio door, I could see Boone stomping up the steps of the lodge, his hair flying in the cold breeze.
He had to be freezing his ass off. His beautiful ass. And I’d been allowed to touch him. He was fucking majestic, every damn inch of him even better than I’d thought he would feel. I thought for a millisecond that perhaps now he’d be out of my system, but no. As he yanked the lodge doors open, letting them slam behind him, I knew there was no way he’d ever be out.
It was probably for the best that he walked away before either of us fell too hard into this thing.
He was wrong. I could never think I was too good for him. He wassomuch, so much larger than life, so overwhelming. And falling for him scared me more than I would ever admit. He would demand more from me than I was ready to share with another person.
It was better for him to think I wasn’t into him, because he would break me if I let him.
Twelve
Boone
I’m too old for this shit.That didn’t slow down the tears at all, but it did motivate me to grab my notebook and start writing. I sat in my bed and wrote until my fingers ached, purging all of my anger, my humiliation at being rejected by the one man I never could seem to please. Stupid, stupid. I should have just been able to walk away with my head held high, forget how cherished I felt for those few moments that I thought he wanted me for real. I wanted to touch him, hold him. I’d been so hopeful when he covered me with his body, when he kissed me, and when he was so tender. So gentle. I hadn’t known he was capable of that.
And then he’d rolled over and the moment was gone.
I’d felt cold to the bone, embarrassed, and that infuriated me. At least the only other person in my life who’d made me feel ashamed like this, I’d never had to face again, but Shane was going to be a constant presence in my life, especially now that our grandparents were dating.
“Fucking hell, Collins. You are killing it at being a grownup.”
I wiped at the tears and prayed I’d still be able to read my writing in the morning. But then, it was morning already. I’d been at this for hours.
The knock at my door reminded me of my purpose. We were there to record songs for our next album, the one that had to be even bigger than the last, if we had any hope of fully conquering the rock world. I refused to be a flash in the pan, that one guy’s grandson.
“Boone, it’s breakfast ti—oh. You’re…up?” Annie looked at my still-made bed and frowned. “Or you never went to bed?”
“Hey, sorry. Let me grab a quick shower. Look this over.” I tossed my notebook at her and trotted to the bathroom, taking a quick shower, crying again when I realized that my hair smelled like Shane’s cologne, which meant I needed to wash it if I was going to function. Smelling like him would keep me on edge all day, and not the kind of edge I needed.
I got out and wrapped my thick hair in a towel, knowing I’d be going out with it wet if I intended to get breakfast, and when I looked in the mirror, I paused.
“Oh, God.” Shane had left two bright purple marks, one on my collarbone and one on my pec. It had felt so good at the time, but now it just made me angry all over again. How dare he mark me like this if he had no intention of?—
“Forget it. Get yourself together, Collins. What would Papa think? Or what would Gran say?’
Then I remembered what she said before the induction ceremony: “chin up, tits out.”
That made me bark out a hoarse laugh. I didn’t bother shaving. Might as well look as messy as I felt. I drew on some eyeliner, hoping it would disguise my post-crying-jag eyes, and I wrapped myself in the bathrobe before heading back out to face Annie.
“Jesus, Boone. What the hell happened to you last night? Morrison said you weren’t feeling well and went to lay down for a bit. We came back from our break and he ushered us out, said you were done for the night, and now I find you in here withthis?” She pointed at the notebook, her eyes wide. “What’s going on?”
I put on my best brave smile and followed Gran’s orders. “Nothing. I was just having a bad night last night, but I feel better.” I didn’t, but she didn’t need to know that. I didn’t bother checking my blood sugar, I knew I needed to eat fast. I pulled on a pair of boxer briefs and then stood before the closet, trying to decide what to wear. Definitely not another v-neck, thanks to fucking Shane. I grabbed my black skinny jeans that were actually baggy now and yanked on a red-plaid button-up, turning to face Annie while I finished the buttons.
“Do you have music to go with this? Because this just might be the most incredible song you’ve ever written.”
I blinked back tears, smiled at her, and took a deep breath.
Screw Shane Butler. I may not be the man of his dreams, but I’d written some phenomenal lyrics. Maybe I’d record it some day. Maybe he’d hear it and maybe not, but if he did, he’d know damn well it was about him—and that I was fine without him.
Only, breakfast turned out to be a cafeteria scene from a ’90s teen movie.
Shane’s band was there when I arrived, but Shane wasn’t. Probably a good thing, although that didn’t keep his guitarist, Dean, from smiling knowingly at me. That shook my confidence a little. I tugged at the collar of my shirt, making sure I’d buttoned it up high enough that Shane’s stupid hickeys were covered.
I gestured for Bran and Annie to go ahead of me as I stopped to fix some tea first. I’d strained my voice yesterday and, well, the lame-ass crying session made matters worse. Morrison always kept the best selection of teas and local honeys for us, so I figured I’d start there. I was just carrying my mug over on a tray when I felt someone behind me.
I nearly spilled scalding tea all over me.
“Good morning.” His fucking velvety voice gave me goose bumps.
