Page 64

Fumbling for a response, I couldn't keep the sympathy from my tone. “I'm sorry.” He threw his empty bottle across the room; it bounced inside the trashcan with a hollow clatter. “Can I ask what he was like, your dad?”

“You can ask. I'm not going to go into it, though. It doesn't matter now.”

The air around us was thickening. I had no clue how to tactfully change the subject, so I kicked my feet and said nothing.

“I’m no musician,” he started, handling each word like it was a dangerous curve on a slippery road, “But I still love writing lyrics.” Fishing into his back pocket, he revealed a small, beaten up brown notebook.

I rolled my chair towards him eagerly. “Can I see?”

He tossed me the book with far more care than the bottle he'd thrown away. “Try not to laugh. My ego is very fragile.”

“Uh huh, sure it is.” I flipped through the pages, scanning as I went. I’m not sure what I expected—especially after he told me he had no talent. I re-read the same line multiple times, absorbing Bach’s handwritten expressions of his soul. “These are really good.”

“Don't bullshit me.”

“I'm not.Eyes shining brighter than the stars during a new moon... Fingers graze my heart and never stop.These are beautiful, Bach.”

He shifted around like he couldn't get comfortable. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

“Would you mind if I sang some of these?”

His eyes widened, then his fingers crushed the arms of his chair. I thought he'd tell me to fuck off. “Go ahead.”

Buzzing with anticipation, I hurried back into the booth. He was staring at me through the glass. He’d done that earlier, this was... different. He watched me like I was a bomb that could go off any second. Something dangerous, something he should be terrified of.

I put the headphones on and studied the pages of the book. I refused to mess up the lyrics he’d penned, I wanted to do justice to his efforts. He couldn’t sing his own words?

Then I’d do it for him.

“Come along, hollow bones...” I licked my lips. “Stay strong enough to keep me up. Hollow bones aren’t so bad. It’s a hollow heart that’s rough...”These lyrics belong to him,I thought, marveling as the words welled up in my chest. They were nothing like his father’s music. They weren’t like mine, either. His songs were bruised with darkness. Deep with a double meaning. My lips trembled as I sang and sang, never once looking to see if he was happy... or horrified.

The booth door slammed open.

I looked up in surprise, barely catching the determined expression on Bach’s face as he ripped the headphones off me and threw them aside. “Bach—” He kissed me hard, stealing my voice, eating me from the inside out.

Had singing his lyrics drawn him to me like I was a siren? I hadn't meant to do that. Worse was my shame over how much Ilovedknowing I'd made him crave me so much he couldn't sit still. “We can’t,” I whimpered.

“We can,” he insisted, scraping his nose through my hair.

“No, I... can’t.”

He loosened his grip on my jaw. Forcing me to look at him, he spoke in a raspy tone. This man was barely controlling himself, he wasragingwith all-consuming lust. “Why? You can’t pretend you don’t want me, I can feel the heat wafting off your body.”

I groaned, and something flexed against my hip—his cock in his pants. “I can’t mess things up.”

“This isn’t a mistake, Amina.”

“Every guy I like turns out to be a mistake.”

“If you think I’m like anyone else you’ve ever been with, you’re wrong.”

My jaw moved, preparing for the bombshell I was going to drop. “I saw the messages on your phone.”

Bach stiffened. “What?”

“The morning after we had sex, you weren’t there, but your phone was. I didn’t mean to spy, but there were so many texts from people... from girls,” I added with a wince. “I’d be stupid to get involved with the guy in charge of my career. But I’d be a walking cliché if I let myself get close to another man who only cares about getting his dick wet, no matter who it’s with.”

The accusation in his voice wasn’t aimed at me. “Your last boyfriend cheated on you, didn’t he?”