Page 15 of Filthy Rock Stars
“Good point.”
“Fine,” he says. “I’ll call you Solo, like Han Solo. Because you’re cocky, but you make it charming somehow.”
“Thank you. I feel very seen.” I rub my jaw. “Leia doesn’t really work for you.”
He sticks his hand on his hip. “I could pull it off, though,” he points out, teasing me with his smile.
I grin. “How about Prince? You are the more proper one.”
He considers it for a moment, then smiles. “All right, Solo. I’ll be Prince. I like that.” He bites his bottom lip. “So you know a place?”
The next thing I know, we’re on the bike again, cruising across Seattle. Prince’s arms are wrapped tight around my chest, and I smile under my helmet like I’m drunk.
Most bars and restaurants don’t work for me. I get recognized and mobbed immediately, and with Prince, I can’t risk that. I’m already courting disaster, but if he is going to discover who I am, I want to delay it as long as possible.
Luckily, The Red Herring caters to clientele like me, and there’s a spot for my ride right out front. We pass silently through the unmarked entrance, by the doorman who gives me an approving nod, and into the swanky, dimly lit lounge.
“What is this place?” he asks.
“A bar with my favorite beer on tap. You want one?”
He gives me a crooked smile. “Sure.”
I find us a spot, a booth around a little corner, secluded, and slide in. Prince and I raise our glasses to each other, drink, and hold gazes until he laughs and looks away.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. Today has been very strange.”
“I’m notthatstrange.” I slide my jacket off. “What happened today?”
“I got an opportunity. Something I wasn’t expecting.”
“Your secret project?”
“Not exactly, but related. I have a chance to go for something really big, life-changing. There’s no way in hell I’d get it, but the opportunity is unreal.”
“Hell yeah. Kickass, Prince.”
He looks down at his beer. “I doubt I’ll go for it.” He tilts his brown eyes up. “But I never thought I’d go for something likethis, either.”
“Oh yeah? Feeling gutsy?”
“That’s a word for it.”
I push my foot against his under the table. I’m torn between the burning need to get my lips on his and my desire to go slow and ensure he’s comfortable. Prince hums with gentle, excited energy, and I want to help him along. Ease him.
For years, every connection with a new person has been shaped by my celebrity. Potential hookups, friends, industry contacts, it didn’t matter. Everyone saw the fame first. They saw Forbidden Destiny, not me.
But this is different. I need to enjoy it and draw it out for my sake, too. Not just his.
“So, life-changing?” I prompt.
“You ever do something like that? Something that changed everything about your life in one swoop?”
I think back to when the band was first hitting it big. We spent countless hours practicing in the basement, but in truth, it felt like the whole fame thing just happened. Like I pushed a tiny little snowball down a hill when I was in high school, and the avalanche is still growing today.
“Not really,” I answer honestly. “It sounds fun, though.”