Page 38 of Dedicated
“We will.”
“I’ve never heard you mention Jessup before.” Dan went back to eyeing me thoughtfully; apparently I was quite the mystery to him today.
“Evan was talking about him recently and I thought…” I thought what? I bit my lip. Shit, what I’d thought about was how surprised Evan would be. The pleased grin he’d give me that would be like moonbeams and starlight and the fluffy soft warmth of a good blanket in the winter.Goddammit. I cleared my throat. “I thought it might inspire him or something.”
“Uh-huh.” Dan emphasized the “huh” as if he’d made a discovery.
“What?” I feigned innocence, and Dan shrugged but didn’t ease up on the scrutiny.
“Better be careful with that shit. Music chemistry getting all mixed up with hormones? Can get messy—”
Again, I thought of the rumors about him, but just then the bells on the door chimed and a guy around my age wearing a beanie and carrying a wooden crate tripped in over the threshold.
“Shit!” he shouted and stumbled another step forward, just managing to keep the crate in his hands, though a few record sleeves went skittering over the open top and slid across the floor.
“Goddamn, kid, you’re killing me,” Dan grumbled, and went to take the crate as the guy bent over to collect the records.
“Owen, Les. Les, Owen.”
Owen righted himself, nodding absently. He started to speak and then stopped, his mouth half-open, eyes wide as he registered me standing there. “Oh.” He tilted his head to one side, avian-like, then nodded to himself again, like he’d come to a decision about something. “Les. Yeah, hi.” I guess that decision was to play it cool. I gave him a grin.
“Shit. I love your music. I heard you were in town. Working on the album, I guess? How’s it going? I love your music.” He smacked the side of his face. “Oh. I already said that. Well, you get the extended version. Bonus praise!” He wiggled his fingers enthusiastically, dropping one of the albums he’d picked up in the process.
Or not. Man, that was a lot at once. I cracked up and leaned over, sweeping the album from the floor and handing it back to him. “It’s going all right, I guess?” Usually I was better at this, but Dan was standing behind him now, rolling his eyes and shaking his head as he clapped his thumb and fingers together quickly. I got the gist. A talker.
I pointed at the door. “Was on my way out, actually.”
“Oh, right, sure. Yeah. Cool.” Owen skirted a few steps to the side, still clutching the records close to his chest. “Come back anytime, though, seriously. I could pull some stuff we get in that you might like. I mean, I’d be guessing because obviously I don’t know you personally, but just based on your music.”
“Sure, that’d be awesome.” I smiled my friendliest smile again and stepped past him. Dan held the door open for me, pitching his voice low as I passed. “He’d keep you all afternoon, trust me. Sweetheart, though.” And then louder, he said, “Be good.”
“To the bone.” It was our common parting shot, and I cut him a wink before I headed down the sidewalk back to the car.
You’ve said before that “Violet Hour” from your second album was a surprise hit.
Evan:It was more aggressive than the other songs. At the time, the popular sound was more atmospheric and soft. So I was just surprised something that was a little grittier made it that far. Obviously we put it on the album because we liked it, but I don’t think either of us thought it would top the charts.
How did that song come about?
Les:Evan left his favorite blankie behind in Nashville. He was quite distraught. I think the vocals on the track express it well.
Evan:You’re such an ass. It was my pillow. And I wasn’t distraught. And that’s not at all where that song came from. Jesus fucking Christ, please don’t print that.
Les:He was beating his chest. Wailing. Inconsolable.
Chapter 26
“Porter! Fuckin’ A. Are you shaving your legs or what?” I nudged the bathroom door open as I yelled and was greeted by a waft of fragrant pine-scented steam as Evan poked his head around the shower curtain, his hair plastered over the crown of his head and dripping onto his shoulders. Goddamn, he was sexy when he was wet.Down, boy.
The glare he shot me didn’t hold any heat. “I literally just got in. Antsy?”
“Little bit.” We hadn’t left the cabin in two days because we’d been locked in the zone writing. Evan couldn’t care less about staying in. But me? I was restless. I needed sunlight on my face every now and again, needed to see other human beings. I was a social animal, and while Evan was probably the only person on earth I didn’t get sick of even after weeks on end, being shut away in the cabin with him for days upon days was too chancy with everything that was going on right now. I needed to remember that what we were doing technically had an expiration date. That it wasn’t real, as Evan had so plainly said. At least, not yet.
“Five minutes.” Evan flashed me a smirk and pulled the shower curtain closed again. I was tempted to strip and get in with him, just to see what he would do, and I made a mental note to try it sometime. But not right then, because we were already late.
The past two weeks since I’d gotten him off in the basement had been busy with more than just music. I didn’t think I’d ever given or received so many hand jobs in my life. I wanted more, but instinct told me to let Evan lead, give him time to situate himself in this fucked-up tapestry of a relationship.
Not that I was complaining, and I could tell he was still into it. The following day after we’d gotten off in the basement together, he kept giving me these looks until I’d finally come up behind him when we were in the kitchen after lunch and pressed my erection against his ass, covered his hand with mine, and pushed it down his pants. He’d shot a bewildered glance over his shoulder at first, but was soon jacking himself with my guidance all the way to a white-hot release. I’d come the same moment as he did, jizzing in my pants like a fucking pubescent boy. And the first time he’d put his hand on my dick, I almost came before he’d even fully wrapped his fingers around me.