Page 42 of Rebel
Clearing my throat, I look at the menu. “That one sounds good,” I offer, changing the subject and pointing at a random cocktail.
“A slow screw?” he teases, and I almost choke. “I think I’ll have peaches and cream.” I tilt my head and meet his eyes. “Do you know that you always smell like peaches?”
My eyes widen, and he grins.
“Damn, that’s hot.” We both whirl around to see all the others watching us. I duck my head as Kolton leans back, my hand still in his.
“So, um, Ila,” I begin. “You’re the lead singer of Pendants, right?”
“That’s right.” She grins. “For a couple of years now. I’ll give you my number before you leave. If you ever need any help with these idiots or just someone to talk to who understands what it’s like being a woman in the industry, reach out,” she offers, and I find it hard not to smile back at her.
She’s like Trav in that aspect.
A whistle cuts through the air, and Ila’s head snaps up as she rolls her eyes. “The guys,” she explains. “They keep tabs on me.”
“By whistling like you’re a dog?” Chase scoffs and grins at me. “Let’s see if it works.” He whistles, and I glare.
“Woof,” I bark, making him laugh.
“Come say hi,” Ila calls, dragging Trav up. “The guys have been wanting to see you again.”
I watch them go, Trav reluctantly being dragged over to the men watching us sharply. Their eyes are filled with nothing but love as Ila walks toward them. “Her new band,” Kolton explains as he stands. “I’m going to order our drinks. I’ll be right back.”
I nod, glancing at Trav, who’s in nothing but low-slung black swim shorts, flip-flops, and shades. He looks every bit the rock star, but he’s completely oblivious to all the women checking him out.
“So . . . ,” Chase begins as he plays with his empty shot glass. I turn back to him. “You really are smart, pretty girl.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” I say, reaching for another shot and tipping it back. He watches me swallow before pushing his shades back. I watch him swallow a shot before he slams it onto the table.
“I slept with Trav’s sister.” I jerk at that admission. I guessed it, but I’m betting he knew that. “We never told anyone. She didn’t want to come between Trav and me. It was a drunken mistake on both our parts, but it was never the same between us after. That’s why she left. I never told him. He just thought she changed her mind and wanted to make her own name. I regret it every day. If he found out, he would never forgive me.” Chase looks at me. “I’m the reason he lost his sister, and although they are still close, he misses her, and it eats me up inside. I was so lost in drugs and alcohol, I didn’t even see who I was screwing. She was my friend, Beck, and I lost that. I hate myself for it. I don’t want to hate myself anymore.”
“He doesn’t know?” I ask.
“No. I have to tell him one day, but I know when I do, I’ll lose him. He’ll walk away, and the band will be broken. I can’t do that. I’m selfish. Kolton knows though. He found us. He hates keeping the secret. It eats him up.”
“Then why tell me?” I snap.
Chase searches my gaze. “Because the truth always has a way of finding the light of day, and when it does, I want someone on Trav’s side. I want him to have somewhere to go, someone to go to, when he realizes his best friend ruined his family.” He stands and walks away after giving me another secret for me to use, yet I just feel sick.
TWENTY-TWO
Beck is quiet when I get back. “Are you okay?” I ask, worried at her sudden change in demeanor.
I can’t stop my eyes from drifting to her lips before I quickly pull them away, not wanting to be caught. Their softness is still imprinted on mine, as is the kindness she showed me. She kissed me because she wanted me despite everything.
She knows all my secrets now, and she still wants me.
It’s addicting, and when she kissed me, I felt nothing but desire and happiness. There were no ghosts or memories of other hands. I don’t know why it’s different with Beck, but I’m dying to explore it and feel loved.
“Yeah, I’m fine, it’s nothing,” she replies, forcing a smile to her lips as I set a fruity cocktail down before her.
Did I do something? Did I cross a line? I held her hand—I couldn’t resist. She’s just so fucking beautiful with her blonde hair blowing in the breeze, her curls tangling in her aviator shades on her head. Her face is makeup free, and she looks younger and happier. Her curves can’t be contained, even in her dress, and when she moves, I see flashes of a string bikini beneath that makes me shift uncomfortably.
“I’m sorry if I crossed a line earlier,” I say sadly. I never want her to feel uncomfortable. Just because she kissed me doesn’t mean I have consent to touch her body. I know that better than anyone.
She frowns in confusion, and I continue.
“I shouldn’t have taken your hand like that. I’m really sorry?—”