Page 114 of Of Heartbreak and Harmony
He reaches up and cups my neck, rubbing his thumb over my jaw, and I lean into his touch without thinking. His warm hands. His cold, silver rings. My eyes flutter shut, and I feel him lean in closer. He brushes his lips lightly over mine, but before the kiss can grow heated, I step back. Just one light touch and I’m at risk of combusting.
“I’m going to take a nap,” I whisper, and Torren nods, a hint of disappointment flitting over his face before it’s replaced with a soft smile.
“Okay. Sure. Let me know if you need anything.”
When Torren pulls the door shut behind him, I lower myself to the bed. It’s jarring how badly I want him. It’s as if the revelations have opened the floodgates of my attraction and it’s nearly impossible to keep it hidden. I’m more at risk than ever of falling in over my head. It’s equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.
I just need to slow it down a bit. That’s all. Keep this desire for him contained.
We’re taking two days to get to the next stop. Miami, where The Hometown Heartless was created. Two days on a bus with Torren King, making only brief pit stops for meals and refueling. I inhale and exhale slowly.
Two days.
I can control myself for two days.
I wake after a few hours to my phone buzzing on the mattress beside me.
I don’t remember when we started driving, but one look out the window tells me we’re well on our way to Miami. I grab for my phone expecting to see Mom or Glory on the screen, but I shoot up to a sitting position when I see Ezra’s name. For a moment, I contemplate denying the call, but then I decide against it. I have no reason not to talk to Ez, and given the recent news about Heartless’s hand in our band’s downfall, it’s probably better that I speak to him. I straighten my shoulders, take a deep breath, and answer the call.
"Hey, Ez.”
“Hey, Cal. Have you checked your texts? I’ve sent you, like, a shit-ton of messages.”
“No. I’ve been asleep, actually. Why?”
“Our old social media accounts have blown up.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Videos and pics of old shows and shit. We’re talking millions of views. Thousands of friend requests. We’re a fucking trending hashtag.”
I put Ezra on speaker and go to my texts, scrolling quickly through the screenshots he’s sent me.
“Oh my god,” I gasp out.
Even during the brief period when we were signed to a label, our accounts didn’t see this much engagement. Ezra isn’t exaggerating. We haven’t posted on these accounts in over a year; yet we still have probably twenty old videos with over a million views each, photographs with thousands of new comments, and our follower counts have grown substantially.
“How? Why?” I ask, and I hear Ez laugh.
“That article after the club. The one that identified us? It all started after that. It’s just...it’s completely fucking insane.”
“Have you talked to the guys?”
“Yeah, I’m with them still, actually. Well, not Pike. He’s back home, but Rock and Beck are inside the hotel room.”
“Where are you?”
“Houston.”
“Oh...” My brow furrows. “What the fuck were you guys doing at that club? Did you honestly follow me to Texas?”
Ezra snorts out a laugh. “Fuck no. We were already there when you showed up with that fuckhead. I can’t believe you’re fucking dating that prick. I can’t believehewas who you were meeting at ArtFusion. Like, that’s just fucking mind-blowing considering everything that happened after.”
I wince at the note of disgust in his tone. I close my eyes.
“Actually, Ez...I kind of need to talk to you about him.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. Don’t care how you fell on his dick, Cal.”
