Page 20 of Safety Net (Mendell Hawks #3)

I also directed my attention to the practice. I pushed away my heart's unusual flutter when Lincoln leaned over to whisper in my ear.

"Is it always like this?" he asked, voice hushed with reverence.

"What do you mean?" I whispered back, refusing to remove my gaze from the stage because he was close enough for me to notice how he hadn't shaved in a couple of days.

Close enough his deep voice vibrated at a frequency that made every inch of my body alert and in need of finding the right tune to complement his.

"Being in a theatre," he said.

"Is this your first time?"

"It is. I think you've ruined me, Celeste."

My breath caught in my throat, hands itched to reach out to his. He was so close, and it was dark, and I needed to feel someone solid. And here he was, the guy who had been so consistent in how he interacted with me. Steady in how he talked to me.

Lincoln was already looking at me when I turned to him.

His smile was small, and his hand rested underneath his perfect jaw.

How did I not notice how perfect his birthmarks were before now?

They were arranged like a connect-the-dot image, ready for me to paint a million and one designs on.

Butterflies. Stars. Flowers. Hearts. Lincoln was a perfect canvas, and I could decorate every inch of his skin.

"I don't know how someone experiences something like this and ever leaves.

" He looked back at the stage. The band started up their next song.

It must be a sound check day because otherwise, the actors would have used a recording of the music.

Live music always made the experience ten times more awe-inspiring.

We could feel the swell of the cello in the air.

Our eardrums trembled from the pounding percussion.

There was a special kind of beauty in falling in love with a song along with someone else.

The intimacy of catching each other's gaze right when the music swelled was unmatched.

Lincoln was quiet as he listened, eyes widening at all the dramatic moments.

Shoulders relaxing when the string section offered a sense of peace.

His enjoyment made the experience ten times more memorable.

It was difficult not to stare, but I wanted to watch every change in his expression.

Lincoln was fascinating, beautiful, and so honest. It was far easier to let my guard down around honest people.

And, I realized, far easier to want to be around them.

"I think I'll pitch a tent right here," Lincoln decided. He kicked up his feet, resting the back of his heels on the chair in front of us. "Live here until I run out of food and water."

I smiled because I'd thought the same thing the first time I witnessed live music. "How long will that be?"

"Well, there was a water fountain in the lobby, so I'm good on that." He dug into his front pockets and retrieved a box of mints and a lollipop. "This is plenty of calories."

"For a guy like you?"

"I have way more willpower than it seems, okay? I could probably last a week on this."

"You're a hockey player," I said.

"Another indication of my willpower," he insisted.

I chewed on my bottom lip, holding back a laugh. "You'd be starving before midnight."

"I'll feed off the vibes," he said.

"Ravished."

"Don't underestimate the power passion has to satiate. You've never pulled an all-nighter thanks to desire alone?" He glanced at me again; the mischief in his eyes made his expression a little dangerous.

My skin heated. I got his meaning all mixed up because I'm used to him flirting. And I'm used to brushing it off. But today, I like the idea of being teased. I wanted it.

I dipped my gaze down to my lap. "I haven't."

"I doubt that," he said. "Your music has to keep you up."

"My music?" Right. Of course, he'd been talking about music. Not sex. Why would he be talking about sex at a time like this? And why was I thinking about it when I wanted to avoid people like the plague?

Maybe that was never entirely true.

I swallowed the revelation. Everything's tangled, the knots getting tighter with every second that passes.

"Of course, your music…unless you have another calling you've been working on.

I wouldn't say I'm not surprised. You're an incredible musician, composer, and writer.

" Lincoln held up his fingers as he listed everything off.

"You can probably sing and dance. You probably passed all your courses with straight As.

You volunteer on the weekends, create art on your skin, and charm your way into the minds of everyone you meet. "

I'm overwhelmed, taking apart everything he's said, I could do. Everything he said I am.

"I don't make straight As. I'm behind in my courses," I blurted. "Because I've been dropping any of them with a presentation requirement. I'm so off track, I'm set to graduate three or four semesters late."

I shared my shortcomings because I needed to break his illusion of me.

The idea someone who writes good music, earns good grades, and is charming was a myth.

A version of myself I would never live up to.

A part of me was on the defense, too. I wanted to darken his idea of me so he might pull away.

Because if he did, there was a decent possibility I wouldn't have to address his growing pull on me.

"I don't think I'll ever leave my parents' house if I don't get this mentorship. This musical is… It's my best shot at changing my trajectory."

The words settled between us, threatening to become a wall or a bridge.

"I'm not on track to graduate," Lincoln said gently after a short lull. "My trajectory is kind of shot, too."

I raised a brow, surprised by the confession. Honored he'd trust me with it. "Really?"

"I've failed more classes than I thought possible in a college career," he said.

"And with the way last hockey season went, I'm not getting any more chances soon.

So, I get it. I know how it feels like you're on your last chance.

If you don't get this right, you're shoved into a lane of life you don't want to be in. One you don't have control over."

I nodded and dipped my gaze down to my lap because I couldn't stand meeting his gaze for longer than a few seconds now.

The way he spoke to me, gentle and understanding, relieved the tension in my shoulders.

I wasn't alone in my shortcomings. Lincoln didn't look at me as someone to pity. I don't think he ever had.

"We're in the same boat," he promised. "And I swear to you, Celeste, we're going to make this work. You'll get the mentorship."

Lincoln leaned on the armrest nearest to me. My breath caught at the sudden closeness. It didn’t last for more than a few seconds, and yet, I'm left in a daze.

This is not good. I wanted to give him things: time or attention. I wanted to give him my space. My hands, cheeks, and lips. I wanted him to lean into me with purpose and linger.

But he's only leaning over to pull something out of his pocket. It was a red Moleskine that’d seen better days.

"Was it run over by a bus?" It was a joke. My smile faded when he nodded.

"Twice," Lincoln said, nonchalantly as he slipped off the elastic band and started flipping through the pages.

I laughed, waiting for him to elaborate, but he was already focused on the sketches on the pages. I got distracted too, impressed by the detail in the drawings.

"Did you draw these?" I asked.

"Only the shitty ones like this."

Lincoln pointed to a lopsided drawing of something I couldn't quite make out. Next to it was an intricate design for a column laced with flowers.

"I'm an ideas person," Lincoln said. "Not an artist. Which is why I like to hang out with people like you or Henrik."

"Henrik drew these?"

Lincoln nodded. "I told him what I needed, and he came up with the rest. When he didn't have the time, I did what I could. It's horrible, but enough to get my ideas out of my head."

"You're not so bad…" I paused when he turned the page to reveal a set of stick figures on a boat.

It was comical in its lack of artistic merit.

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to smile too widely.

He was trying. And it was the sweetest thing.

Although his drawing skills were severely lacking, I can see the immense effort put into the work, as evidenced by the numerous lines erased and redrawn.

"I have thick skin, Celeste." Lincoln chuckled. "You don't have to be so nice."

"I'm not being so nice…" I pointed to one of his drawings. "See, that's really cool. It's a great idea for…you know...what it obviously is…"

"I do know what it obviously is." He smiled at me, amused. "But do you?"

"Of course," I said. "It's on the tip of my tongue. The obvious thing you drew is at the tip of my tongue."

"Go on." He relaxed back in his seat. "We've got more than enough time for you to remember what it's called."

I laughed at how he wasn’t going to let me off easy. Lincoln passed the Moleskine to me, encouraging me to look closer. He didn't care about being bad at drawing. Lincoln wasn't embarrassed in his lack of proficient when creating, and yet, he did it anyway.

The music below us continued to play. The song was slow and cheerful.

I wasn’t looking at the stage anymore, and I didn't know what play they were putting on.

But I guessed it was a scene that captured a cozy lull in the story.

A pocket of time where the audience got the chance to get lost in the beauty of a fantasy world and forgot all about the world outside of the Playhouse's walls.

I'm falling into a fantasy world of my own, too.

One where Lincoln smiled at me as if I were the most interesting person on earth.

One where he watched me with so much focus in his gaze, as if my company was more thrilling than anything he's ever experienced.

Somehow, his attention gave me courage. His nonchalance tugged me closer.

I straightened my fingers again and brushed against the side of his palm on purpose.

Lincoln didn't pull away. His pinky finger flexed slightly, returning my touch.

It's nothing. It's everything. It's a hint maybe his crush hadn't faded after all my months of radio silence.

"I could give you a hint," he said.

"Would you?"

"It'll cost you," he sang, voice low and teasing.

It's hard to breathe in the best way possible. "You can't draw, act, or play any instrument. But you can sing. You lied. You said you couldn't."

He gave me a look.

"What? I'm serious," I promised.

"You shot a thousand arrows and then flattered me," he teased.

I chewed on my bottom lip, trying not to laugh. "Sorry, but are they really arrows when they're the truth?"

"The truth?"

"You can't draw, Lincoln," I whispered. "It's...actually kind of comical how terrible you are."

"Is that so?"

"Very much so."

"I like this biting side of you," he confessed.

I felt the comfort I've exclusively experienced with Naomi coil around me. "I don't mean to be biting."

"But you're so good at it," he said.

There was a lump in my throat. I couldn't swallow it, so I remained silent, letting the music below fill up the space between us. I really wanted to be able to have a back-and-forth with him. Come up with witty things to say and flirt back. Instead, I hit a wall I couldn’t climb.

"Look here." Lincoln broke the silence, pointing at the rounded end he could only reach by sliding his hand underneath mine. "And here."

He moved again, his fingers left hot trails across my skin. I still wasn’t in warm core or swollen breast territory. But I did feel something stir in me.

"It's a balcony," he said.

"Why is it horizontal?" I asked.

"Because it'd be easier to build it sideways, and then we could get a rope to pull it up."

"Yeah, sure, but why'd you have to draw it sideways and not up? Wouldn't whoever was building it be able to concur they should build it sideways without the visual aid?"

He opened his mouth and closed it, trying to think of a decent response. I laughed again. This was more than I laughed in weeks. Maybe even months. The weight of school has made everything black and white. With Lincoln, I could finally see colors in between.

"I'm really happy we're working together," I said before I overthink. "This project has felt so impossible for so long. But now with you…I can see it happening. And…thank you. For putting in all this work. It…thank you, Lincoln."

"I got you." Lincoln smiled and brushed his hand against mine once more. "You focus on getting all the music together, and I will do everything else. Don't worry about anything. This is going to be amazing."