Page 109 of Burn Bright
He shakes his head and sets the can on the counter. “No. He agrees with you. He’d use his last name to get popular, but it doesn’t really work like that. The people who follow our family online don’t necessarily love the kind of music he plays. His genre is niche.”
So he either has to sell out and make different music or continue playing for his loyal but small following. I’m guessing if Tom wants more popularity, it must be for something other than money. It can’t only be for fame though…right?
Who wouldwantto be famous? Xander Hale looks like the definition of soul-crushed every time I see him in Classical Mythology. Random strangers film him, yell his name, try to seize his attention. It’s exhausting to just observe from the sidelines. I can’t even imaginebeingXander.
I don’t think Tom wants that—but then what does he want?
And why do I even care? It’s Tom fucking Cobalt. My nemesis. Ben’s watching me intently, his lips lifting the more I scowl.
“Tom wants fame?” I end up asking.
“He wants people to listen to his music. Alotof people. Naturally fame would come with that, yeah.” He opens a bag of sea salt popcorn that must be vegan-friendly, then looks me over. “What do you think about being famous? Would you be okay with it?”
I’m not sure why he’s asking. It’s not like I’m in jeopardy of being some noteworthy superstar. My life will be common. I’ll be a surgeon at a hospital in the city, hopefully New York. The mostexciting thing about me will be my friendship with him, but it’s not as if Ben Cobalt’s friends even have a drop of fame.
He has too many friends for that.
“Honestly,” I say, “I’m not a fan of fame after what I’ve seen Xander go through.”
Ben winces. “Yeah but…that’s different. Xander is different…” His voice trails off, and I know I struck a tense chord. Xander’s not a good name to toss around Ben.
It’s been a month, and the most they say is “hey” and “hi” and the occasional “what’s up” – which never has an actual verbal reply. Just a head nod.
Sometimes I feel like an invisible wall sitting between them. Only, they both can see mebut can’t see each other.
I don’t want to make this night awkward before it’s begun, so I ask quickly, “Are you tired or do you want to stay up?”
His lips slowly stretch into a grin that is too attractive for words. Literally. Words fly so far out of my head the dictionary might as well be planted on the moon.
“I’m not tired at all, Fisher.” His voice is like a cool wind traveling over my skin, creating goosebumps of anticipation.
It is not a sexual suggestion, Harriet. But damn, my body wishes it were one. This dry spell is seriously messing with my head, and we still have the entire night to go.
25
HARRIET FISHER
We end up on the pull-out sofa together. Side by side. Not before I changed in the bathroom. I’m wearing a baggy Evanescence band tee over my blackThursdaypanties. Unfortunately, I forgot to pack my pajama shorts. I usually just sleep in an oversized T-shirt, so it didn’t cross my mind.
Until I had to walk back into the living room. Fabric barely covering my thighs.
Ben just smiled.
Which, really, felt more intimate than it should. He makes no attempt to act like I’m an ugly duckling. It’s very clear he finds me at least a teeny bit hot, and I also haven’t exactly pretended he’s a grotesque swamp monster.
He is fuckinggorgeous.
I try to stare at the laptop balancing on his thigh and not up at his eyes. I’m still thunderstruck that the Cobalts don’t have a television in here. I thought that was a basic living room requirement.
Ben has bent one knee, his arm resting on top, lounging comfortably above the sheets and navy-blue quilt. My brain has circled back to the fact that this is where we’ll both also besleeping.Together.I try not to get into too much of a thought loop or my cheeks will be cherry-tomato red.
He scrolls through a streaming service when he says, “He lives three floors below me, you know.”
I frown. “Who?”
“Xander.” Oh, his mind must not have left his cousin.
“I didn’t know he lived in this building until the entrance security mentioned the Hales.” I crunch on a kernel of popcorn. He gave me the bag earlier. “Do you…talk to him?” I realize how silly that question sounds when I say it.
