Page 5
VIVIAN
T he sun is finally out this morning, but I’m not excited to leave, even after Ryder offered to drive me.
He’s seated at the end of the couch, sipping from the same mug from yesterday. I’m still curled under his throw blanket, wearing his shirt and flannel pants, wondering how I’m going to act normal around him now, especially after the kisses and orgasm we shared.
And my God, everything about that moment was … something else. I can never drive around in my van anymore without feeling him, hearing him, seeing him.
“Can I ask you something?” My voice breaks the silence.
He glances up, mug halfway to his lips, and grabs my foot, resting it on his knee. “Dangerous words, but fine. Shoot.”
“What’s your favorite song of yours?”
He hangs his mouth open dramatically and wags a finger at me. “You’re not trapping me like that. I’m not about to sit here and admit I’m narcissistic enough to have a favorite of my own.”
I roll my eyes. “It’s not a trap. Just curious.”
He watches me for a second, then he leans back and exhales through his nose, a faraway look in his eyes.
“‘Welcome to My Life,’” he says finally.
I sit up and curl my legs under me. “Really?”
“What, you expected me to pick one of the sexy hits?” His smirk is lazy, but his eyes sharpen.
“No, it’s just … my sister, Valerie, used to play that one on repeat, especially on Saturday mornings, and my parents would complain their eardrums were about to break.
She says it gets her all hyped up for the day.
” I moisten my lips and meet his gaze. “I always thought it was weird. The lyrics were about your lifestyle—touring, excess, all that—but it felt … wrong. As if you were saying something else underneath it all. I can’t point it out exactly, but there was something there for sure. ”
His whole body stills.
When he looks at me again, it’s with this strange, almost reverent expression.
“Yes,” he says slowly. “People assumed it was about the luxury, the girls, the parties, the freedom. But it wasn’t. That song … it was about realizing I’d gotten everything I said I wanted—fame, money, recognition—and how little of it actually felt good. It wasn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
I sit up straighter, the blanket slipping off my shoulder. “Why didn’t it?”
He smiles, but it’s sad again. A quiet kind of ache.
“Because I didn’t get into music to become a brand.
I just wanted to perform. To make something people felt.
I wrote songs in my bedroom at seventeen, thinking I could change the world, you know?
I wanted people to listen to me when they’re happy or sad or heartbroken.
” Ryder sighs and rubs the spot between his brows.
“But the industry… It’s less about meaning and more about money.
The label tells you what kind of sad they’ll allow.
How much vulnerability you can show before it’s ‘off brand.’ And when you try to push back?
” He shrugs, setting his mug down. “You get the reputation I have.”
The room goes silent again. My chest tightens, but not in pity. There’s something real about him in this moment, something raw and quietly aching.
I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect to feel this connected.
“You still made people feel,” I say, trying to untangle all these emotions. “Maybe not the way you intended, but it mattered. Valerie played that song every time she was overwhelmed. According to her, the song quieted her mind.”
His gaze flickers to mine, and the air shifts again.
It’s not lust this time. It’s something deeper, something I should find terrifying. He sees me. And I see him . Not the version online. Not the one in stadium lights.
Just Ryder.
I’m putting on my sneakers when Ryder stands in front of me and casually declares, “So, I’ll drive you to the festival.”
I don’t even have to think twice. He already asked me, and I said no. “You will not . ”
He crosses his arms over his chest, the muscles flexing with the simple movement. “Why not?”
“Because it’s not necessary,” I say, pulling on the other shoe. “We just need to drive far enough to get a signal and call for a tow truck.”
“Which will take hours,” he points out, standing now, already pulling on a hoodie. “And there’s no guarantee one’ll come out here today, and even then, if I’m right, it needs a part you have to order. Why not just say yes? We can be on our way in, like, twenty minutes.”
“Because” —I stand too, frowning at him— “you’re you .
You’re hiding out here to escape the madness.
I’m not going to rip that away by dragging you to a festival where every person and their mother will recognize you and want selfies and autographs and ask you to sign their boobs and God knows what else. ”
He smiles that easy smile I’ve come to love. “Oh wow. Would you look at that? Vivian’s opinion of me has changed. You were willing to stab me with that blunt knife of yours yesterday, but now you’re ready to protect me. I believe that’s what they call a redemption arc.”
I grab the nearest throw pillow and hurl it at his chest. “Take it back.”
He catches it easily and laughs. “Nope. Already noted. We’re making real progress. What if my actual goal was to convert you from a non-fan to an obsessed one?”
“I didn’t say I like you,” I grumble.
“But you didn’t say you don’t . ” He grins, moving closer, stealing my breath with how casually affectionate he is. His fingers brush my arm, and he kisses my shoulder. “Anyway, it’s fine. I’ll stay in the car. It’s tinted. No one will see me.”
“You’re really planning this out, huh?”
“We need to bring those records,” he says, straight-faced, like it’s a mission of national importance. “And you need someone to drive. Come on, let me help. You don’t have to do everything alone.”
The words hit somewhere low and deep. I rub my arms, trying to ignore how warm I feel from that one soft touch and that light kiss. “I don’t want you getting swarmed.”
“I won’t be,” he says. “I’ll stay in the car. Like a good boy.” His lips twitch. “Won’t even bark unless you tell me to.”
I groan. “You’re the worst.”
“Whatever you say,” he says, voice dropping slightly as his hand brushes mine.
My breath stutters. He keeps teasing me, sure, but now there’s heat curling under it, slow and steady. “You’re lucky I need those records.”
“I’ll take what I can get.”
His thumb grazes over my knuckles, and it’s such a small gesture, but my whole body notices.
He’s still touching my hand.
Still close enough that I can count the flecks of darker blue in his irises. Still looking at me like he’s remembering every second of last night.
My breath comes a little shorter, the space between us practically buzzing and crackling with sparks.
I jab a finger at his chest, which is really hard and packed with muscle. “I’m not even sure you’re a good driver, so I’m telling you now, and consider this an ultimatum: I need to get there in one piece, or you’ll lose a fan. My sister will kill you, and no, you can’t placate her with a smile.”
Ryder grins, and in the next moment, he pulls me in for a kiss.
His hands cup my jaw, thumbs grazing my cheek before he wraps a hand around the back of my head to pull me even closer to him.
His lips part mine, tongue sweeping deep, and I moan into his mouth. The world tilts and narrows, and all I can think is more , closer, deeper.
My body leans into him, molded against the length of him, his hard length pressing against my stomach. He’s solid heat, his scent in my lungs, his mouth working mine like he’s trying to ruin me for anyone else.
And it’s working.
I gasp when his teeth tug gently at my bottom lip. Oh, sweet baby Jesus.
I’m still pulling myself together when he chuckles against my mouth. “We’re gonna be late.”
My libido has risen to the surface so fast that my brain has taken a backseat. I stare at him, forehead furrowing, still dazed. “What?”
“Those records won’t deliver themselves.” He brushes one last kiss against my jaw before stepping back and interlacing his fingers with mine.
I’m still catching my breath. “You’re actually the worst.”
“Vivian, if we don’t stop, you’re gonna be stuck in this cabin for the next few weeks, too sore to walk.”
My God.
I don’t have an answer to that, and he notices. The side of his mouth lifts. I swear, if he smirks at me like that one more time, I’m going to forget we have anywhere to be. You know what, being ‘too sore to walk’ doesn’t sound so bad now that I think about it.