Page 57 of Dream On

A smile hints. “Cows and shit?”

“Yeah, Bessie or whatever.”

“Emmy.”

“Sure.” He smirks, then sits up straighter. “I got rid of my leather boots just for her.”

I glance down at his sneakers, and my chest warms.

“I had guilt,” he adds with a shrug. “You’ll tell her for me?”

Instinct has me scooting closer to him on the bed until our thighs kiss. Or maybe it’s the vodka taking over my body. “You can tell her yourself…I mean, if you want to come over sometime. For dinner.”

His expression falters as he straightens. “We’re done rehearsing. You still want to hang?”

“Of course I do. Maybe I can teach you how to play the piano, how to make fresh pasta from scratch, or how to tackle farm chores if you’re up for manual labor.” My heartbeats double as I nudge his shoulder with mine, my courage dangling by a thin wire. “I like spending time with you, Lex.”

I liked kissing you too.

I should tell him that. I should just say it and put it out there, cleanse the room of this nervous energy, own my feelings, and be bold for once. Bold in real life, not just on a stage.

Or…maybe I should show him.

His blue eyes soften like a springtime sky, sparking with a glimmer of vulnerability. Of candidness. His guard is down, and mine is wavering, crumbling to dust and embers as we stare at each other for a drawn-out breath.

I chug back the rest of my punch and discard the cup beside me on the bed before twisting to fully face him. My stomach is in knots, hands shaking, pulse close to detonating. I’m either going to throw up or I’m going to kiss him, but hopefully not at the same time.

Lex sits up all the way, a slight frown marring the space between his eyes. “Stevie—”

I don’t even think it through.

Breath hitching, I lurch forward, take his face between my hands, and press my lips to his. He freezes instantly. I feel his body go rigid, a hard mass of tension and stunned shock. But I don’t let it scare me away; he’s surprised, just as I’m surprised, so I wait for him to hold me back, to take me in his arms, to part his lips and kiss me like he did in front of hundreds of people mere hours ago.

But that’s not what happens.

To my horror, Lex staggers away from me, pushing at my shoulders as he untangles himself from my hands and lips.

He gapes at me, face a mask of disbelief and confusion. “What the hell, Nicks?”

I stare back at him.

Speechless. Humiliated.

I can’t form a coherent thought, let alone words. I shake my head as he balls his hands and inches farther away from me on the bed, as if I’m a dangerous animal, cornered and unpredictable.

His breathing escalates, unsteady and almost panicked. “What are you doing?”

“I–I just…” I nearly black out, my vision going white. Ears ringing. I’m a stuttering, hollowed-out mess. “I was…kissing you.”

“Kissing me.” He scrapes out the words, a blade against a porcelain plate, each syllable grating. Then he blows out a breath and sinks his face into his hands.

I lift off the bed, my legs struggling for balance. “I’m sorry…I just thought—the way you kissed me tonight. During the show. I thought—”

His head snaps up, blue eyes swirling with chaos, with something I can’t explain. “I was acting, Stevie. I was playing a part.”

He’s never looked at me like this before.

It’s as if I betrayed him.