Page 45 of Rock Out Together
“That’s deep.”
“As is your tattoo. Shall we eat?”
He makes me smile. Emma and Diego are right, there is more than meets the eye to Ronan Christian. In fact, I think he is a secret cinnamon roll with a healthy inquisitiveness. I usually go for closed off, emotionally deficient assholes. Hence why I have no wisdom.
We sit down to eat. It’s really good. Which I tell him.
“You could cook like this too if you had a kitchen.”
“Don’t ruin it.”
“It can’t be good for you living there.”
“It’s fine. And I have a lead on a place anyway so there is no point discussing this.”
“You do?”
“Yes.” I’m not lying. A friend is spending the summer in Europe and said I could sub-let her place. Bonus that it’s inVenice. “And I could have a gourmet kitchen and still burn water.”
He laughs. Topic changed. I like that he listens. We finish the meal, chatting about family, and he tells me Brandon and Franny just got back from their honeymoon.
“You’re never going to think of her as anything else now, are you?”
“I have you to thank for that.” He grabs us more drinks and suggests we move inside as it’s getting chilly. “I’m pretty sure I’m going to slip up every time I see her.”
“That’s a shame.” I pout.
“Yeah, right.”
He leads me into a spacious sitting room. It’s homey, comfortable, nothing like I would have expected from a rock star. There is a lot of music related artwork and a giant portrait of Jon Bonham from Led Zeppelin sitting behind his drum kit.
“Okay, so don’t get too excited. I know you’ve been dying for this since the moment you met me.”
What is he talking about? I turn around to him holding up his Walkman. Part of me wants to laugh at the absurdity of it, but in all honesty, he’s right. I’ve never seen one in real life. And this is such an integral part of who Ronan is. It feels like he is showing me something deeply personal.
“And here.” He opens the lid on the coffee table to reveal an entertainment system. It’s far more modern, but to the side there is a stack of cassette boxes. He takes one out and closes the lid. When he hands it to me, I set the wine down and turn it over.
“Rock legends,” I read the scrawled blue handwriting on the cassette. “This isn’t my tape?”
“Your tape?” He cocks his head.
“You know what I mean.” I reach out and take the Walkman. He sucks in a breath, and I pause. “What?”
“It’s just…no one ever touches my Walkman.”
“Do you want me to set it down?”
“You shouldn’t make fun of a man’s precious belongings you know. Would you like me feeling up your cameras?”
“Interesting choice of words,” I say, caressing the wire on the headset between my fingertips.
Ronan tips his head back and lets out a groan. I laugh and figure out how to open the Walkman and insert the tape.
He watches me slip on the headset and press play. He’s right, it sounds fine, like a digital recording, not tinny like I expected. I figure out how to clip the back of the Walkman to the belt on my dress and take a few steps away, turning my back to him. ‘Walking After You’ by Foo Fighters is playing.
I adore this song.The dark romance of it, the desperate longing, and the melancholy vocals.
It’s gotten darker outside and I can see our reflection in the large window beside the John Bonham portrait. My body sways to the slow beat of the music. Ronan is staring at me. Not my ass.
