Page 42 of The Devil's Tattoo
“Okay.”
“Don’t sound so enthusiastic, Zoe.” He glanced up at me. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he patted the mattressbesidehim.
Perching delicately on the edge of the bed, I was careful not to let our legs touch, fearing that tingling sensation. I watched as he opened a file full of videos, and it didn’t escape my notice that one of the thumbnails was of me. Not sure of what I was getting myself into, apprehension coursed throughmybody.
“I made this for you,” Will said quietly, watching my reaction. “I mean, you can use it for the band or whatever ifyouwant.”
It was then I realized he’d been wandering about the crowd, backstage, photo shoots—everywhere—slyly filming. I was so intent on ignoring him and my growing attraction, I hadn’t noticed. He’d done it all on his phone, so it had a raw documentary feel to it, and it was really close andintimate.
It was set to ‘Bombard’ one of our faster songs. The one we closed our set with, and the one that saw me on top of the drum kit every night. As the video played, it was all me. I mean, there were shots of the other guys, but ninety-five percent had to be me. It was then I realized that everyone had been right. I tried to brush it off, the fact that I was attracted to him, but I didn’t see it, not entirely. Notuntilnow.
“What do you think?” he asked, breaking thespell.
I was silent for a moment, trying to think of somethingcoherent. “It’s…”
“You don’t like it.” He said it with such an air of disappointment my gaze flew tohisface.
“No.” I shook my head. “It’s just, I didn’trealize.”
His eyes narrowed as if he was trying to work out the meaning in my words. “That I wasfilming?”
I shook myhead. “No.”
“I didn’t mean anything byit,I…”
“I love it,” I said abruptly. I didn’t want to hear the end of that sentence. It stunk of friend zone, and I didn’t know why it annoyed me so much. The thought of letting someone else in after all this time scared the hell outofme.
“Good.”
The laptop snapped closed, and he put it on the bed behind us. God, now he had me alone again in a bedroom, but this time, there was no guitar to separate us. My heart thudded in my chest, and I swore I was about to have a heartattack.
“So,” he began. “I haven’t actually asked you, but are you enjoying the tour? I mean, other than me beinganass.”
It was so unexpected I let out a laugh and looked up at him. His eyes were on me, and I suddenly feltnaked.
“What?” he asked, the ghost of a smile tugging athislips.
“Nothing, it’s just…that wasn’t what I was expecting youtosay.”
He chuckled, running a hand over the stubble on his chin, and I imagined what it would feel like to run my hand over his jaw. “What’s with youandDee?”
“Dee?” I asked with a frown. Was he jealous of Dee now? “I’ve known Dee since I was twelve. We’re best friends. He’s my brother from anothermother.Why?”
“It’s hard to tell with you guyssometimes.”
“Hard to tell what?” I asked, but suddenly realized what he meant. “Oh, we’ve never been together. Notlikethat.”
Will nodded, looking down at my arm, seemingly studying the tattoos that covered it. “He’s agoodguy.”
“Heis.”
“He looks outforyou.”
“Hedoes.”
As if he sensed the conversation was getting too serious, he asked, “How long have you actually been playing? Guitar,Imean.”
“About three years now.” It was a double-edgedmilestone.
