Page 56 of Dedicated
I was none too pleased about it, either, but my irritation went further back: Les letting the guy blow him, the path that led us to this ridiculous stunt in the first place. And yet… how could I be angry over the events that landed me in the arms of the one person I thought I might be falling in love with?Holy fuck, did I really mean that?It was a paradox.
“I’m calling Levi.” I closed out the article and tabbed through my contacts to distract myself from my racing heart.
“I was just about to call,” Levi answered.
“Did you know this was coming down the pike?” I was oddly suspicious, an uneasiness in my stomach whose origin I couldn’t explain, and the way Levi answered didn’t help. Why hadn’t he called me first thing?
“What? No!” he said emphatically.
“If I find out this is all part of some larger scheme, I’m done,” I warned him.
Les watched me carefully, one eyebrow cocked, a stern set to his mouth as I paced listlessly.
“That’s ridiculous, Evan. We’re on your side. On both of your sides,” Levi was quick to add. “But this is really no big deal. It’s one opinion piece, and there’s plenty to suggest you two are together. We’re still on track to quietly drop news of the breakup to a few sources just before you go into the studio.”
I snorted over the fact that my publicist was having to reassure me that the course of my fake relationship with my bandmate was on track and proceeding smoothly toward its demise. This was insanity, and yet, I couldn’t help but say, “And what if we don’t want to do that?”
Les’s eyes went wide. Mine probably would’ve, too, and I wasn’t really sure where I was going with that because whatever Les and I were, I was nowhere near ready to make a public declaration about it, but the flabbergasted silence on the other end was worth the two seconds of vindictive peace that rocking the corporate machine gave me.
When Levi replied, after a lengthy silence, he sounded hesitant. “We could certainly work with that, if you’d like to keep up the charade. Or… maybe it’s not a charade? It’s… um… yeah, we could work with that.” He picked up speed, and I could tell by the rapid way he spoke he was starting to get excited. “Actually, that could be really great. It opens up a whole new avenue of publicity to mine.”
I tossed the phone to Les in aggravation. Les’s attention was still fixated on me, but now he seemed wary and confused. His brow furrowed as he spoke. “I think what Evan’s saying is that we need some time to think about it, so we’ll just sit tight right now and not worry about the article.”
“Good plan. I’ll check in tomorrow and you can let me know what you’re thinking. The more heads-up we have, the better. If you want to continue the relationship, I’ll need to get on the ball. This could be huge.”
Damn, the guy was all kinds of fired up now. So much for rocking the corporate machine. Talk about backfire.
After he ended the call, Les canted his head to one side, studying me where I stood at the kitchen island, my fists clenched on top of the counter. “What…?”
I shook my head. “I don’t fucking know. I don’t know anything.” I searched his face, his expression, looking for a sign… but I wasn’t sure what I was looking for. I was uneasy all over. Something felt off. “Did you know about any of this before?”
Les flinched like I’d thrown a punch. Then he barked out an incredulous laugh. “Yeah, Porter, this was all a part of my grand scheme to get you in bed.”
My brow cocked up, and he gave a disbelieving shake of his head, ground-eating strides carrying him to confront my frown. Somehow the intensity in his movements comforted me.
Les gripped me firmly by the biceps, and he was close enough that I saw the tiny pores on his face, the thick fringe of his lashes, the eyes behind burning with a fury that made my next inhale slow and measured and relieved. I licked my lips and kept quiet, and it was only after I’d done it that I realized what a tell it was. Even right then, in that moment, when everything inside me churned with doubt, I wanted him. I thought maybe I’d wanted him for much longer than I’d ever allowed myself to believe.
“I’ve been along for the ride, same as you, and I have a very distinct memory of you underneath me, begging for it, wanting it. Did I make that up?” His nostrils flared as he inhaled, and for the first time, I glimpsed the fear behind the frustration. It made something inside me go very still.
His expression softened when I said, “No. It was real. Shit, I don’t know. I guess this is the clusterfuck I was talking about.” I didn’t want to argue with Les. Hell, I didn’t know what I wanted right then besides to go back to this morning when we were lying in bed together.
“It’s real to me, too. Fuck, Porter.” He shook his head as he squeezed my shoulders hard, then released me and took a step back, like he was drawing his next breath from the space he created between us. His fist rose to rub at the spot between his dark brows, his eyes clenching tightly as he shook his head again.
When he looked up at me, his face was drawn, but his eyes were clear. “I don’t know what all of this is to you, if it’s just a convenient exploration, or… I’ve already told you—maybe not in so many words—but I’ve got it pretty fucking bad for you, Porter, and I don’t know where it leaves us in all of this, but it’s the truth. Fuck. I don’t think I’ve felt this way about anyone since I was… I don’t even know. Maybe ever. Goddamn.”
“Les.” This was anything but a convenient exploration. In fact, it was incredibly inconvenient. My heart stuttered. I felt it like a skip in my chest. Or a kick. And I had no idea what to do with the confession he’d just given me. It wasn’t anI love you, but it rubbed elbows with the sentiment, and now he was squirming, looking at me like he’d made a mistake. Les Graves wasn’t meant to squirm. I took a step forward and reached for him, skimming a touch over his shoulder.
He looked up at the ceiling and laughed. “Oh shit. This is perfect. Fuck, I probably deserve this.”
“Les.” More forcefully this time. His gaze dropped back to meet mine, and I could see the shields going up behind it. “Give me a minute to process.”
He nodded once, averting his eyes and shaking free of my touch. “Sure. All the time you want.” He still wouldn’t look at me, but when he turned to go, snagging a water from the fridge before thumping down the stairs to the basement, I let him.
I picked up my laptop and took it with me to the couch, checking our numbers before frustration had me shoving the laptop aside and throwing my head back against the cushions. I stretched my legs out, glancing down at the floor to see what crinkled, and picked up the bag from Grim’s, dumping the contents on my lap.
Jessup Polk. A rare pressing of his debut EP, and two more I wasn’t even aware existed.
I turned the sleeves over in my hands, then rested my forehead against the cool, cardboard surface. The sound of Les playing rose from the basement, the sweet melody draping over my shoulders. Fucking Les. He got me every time.