Page 104 of Composed
“Not your career,” she says quietly. “What if tonight’s the night an industry rep is sitting in the audience.”
“Then I miss my chance.”
She tenses, her fingers stilling on my arm.
“But there will be other chances.” I thread our hands together. “Plus, I don’t think an industry rep is gonna be hanging around Rock Shots on a random Wednesday night in July.”
She sniffs. “You never know. You should go.”
“Not going anywhere.” I press a kiss to her shoulder and close my eyes. “You’re stuck with me.”
Hendrix is gone from the bed when I crack my eyes open.
Sunshine glints through her blinds. I scrub my eyelids and stretch my arms over her head as Hendrix stomps into the room.
She’s changed out of her ratty pyjamas and into black jeans and a baggy Papa Roach T-shirt that I’m pretty sure is mine, put makeup on, and pulled her hair into a sleek ponytail.
“Up and at ’em, Rock Star.” She peels the covers off me. “Let’s get moving.”
Itug her wrist, pulling her towards me so I can press the back of my hand to her head. She’s no cooler than she was when I first arrived. “The only place you should be going is back to bed.”
“I’m feeling so much better.”
I scoff. “I’d maybe believe that if you didn’t sound like you smoked fifty cigarettes in the last half hour. Get in bed.”
“Nope. Get out of bed.”
“Rixie—”
She jerks her wrist free and steps back. “You are going to your gig tonight. I’m not accepting anything less. I’ve already texted Carter, he’s on his way to pick us up. He’ll be here in fifteen.”
“I’m not going while you’re sick.”
“Yes, you are.” She tosses my jumper onto the bed and drops my shoes at my feet.
“No, I’m not.”
“Cole, we don't have time for you to be stubborn. Get a move on.”
“Hendrix!” I blare. Her eyes widen at the sound of her name from my lips. Pretty sure I haven’t called her that since the first day we met. “What is the matter with you right now? You are poorly. You have no business going out, let alone to watch a fucking gig. What crazy shit have you been smoking today?”
She stumbles back. “You can’t miss your show.”
“I can do whatever the fuck I want.” I shoot out of the bed and close the distance between us. I grip her hips as her lashes flicker. I soften instantly. “You don’t get to make this decision for me. If I want to skip out on a show then I’m gonna do that.”
“You’re right. I can’t make you go to the gig.” She peels my hands away from her. Stepping back, she drags the door open. “But I can make you leave.”
My stomach sinks. “What are you doing?”
“I’m not being the reason you miss a gig.”
“You are not the reason, I am.I’mmaking this choice.”
A horn honks outside.
“That’s your ride.” Hendrix swallows, refusing to meet my eyes as she steps aside. “Go.”
I sink my teeth into my lip. “You’re being serious?”
