Page 8 of Tracing Holland (The Hold Me NSB #2)

“Luke!” Holland calls after me as I move toward the waste bin.

I don’t want to turn around. I don’t need to see her face.

I don’t need to know she agrees her lead guitar player is acting like an ass, but has to stay loyal to him anyway.

I definitely don’t need to see his smug expression.

I saw the obvious smirk before I was able to escape.

They all love how far I fell. Watching me shatter for public consumption.

I know it, I’m not an idiot, but it doesn’t mean I have to let them see how weak I still am.

I’m in the hall when footsteps clap toward me. I don’t want to turn around but have no choice when a hand grabs my arm and tugs me to a stop.

“Luke, I’m sorry.” It’s Holland looking up at me with a sincerity that touches something deep, something forgotten. “I don’t know why Wes said that stuff. He didn’t mean anything by it.”

“No? I’m pretty sure he meant a lot by it.

” Her face falls, and I sigh. “Look, Holland, I get it. I’m not saying I don’t deserve that shit, but I also don’t need to sit around listening to it.

Besides, I have to go see Gary about a problem with my pedal board anyway. We can do the J45 another time.”

“Luke, wait! Just…”

I pause and give her the floor, but suddenly she doesn’t seem to know what to do with it anymore. There’s that look again. Like she’s fighting herself more than anything. After a few more awkward seconds, I force a polite smile. I know she means well and deserves that at least.

“Seriously, thanks for the chat. I needed to laugh for a bit. Good luck tonight,” I answer.

She still looks like she wants to say something but doesn’t. Or can’t. Or won’t. I don’t know, but it’s not my problem.

“Thanks, you too,” she returns finally, and we exchange another awkward smile before going back to being unnatural strangers.

***

I’m in a weird place as I make my way out of the building.

Torn between yesterday’s emotional reconnection with Ellie’s ghost and today’s sudden acknowledgement of Holland, I feel the guilt mount, almost anger at my traitorous body that’s still reacting to the effect of Holland’s penetrating, deep blue eyes.

I close my own for a moment, trying to decide what to do next.

I’m not ready for the bus and probing gazes of my friends, but I also have nowhere else to go.

I kind of feel like writing, but I don’t have anything except my phone at the moment, so even that’s out.

The weariness of the last few days is starting to catch up with me, which isn’t helping matters.

I sigh and drop to the steps outside of a service entrance, breathing in the warm morning air.

The back of the building is alive with activity at this hour, and I find the din of muffled voices, idling truck engines, and crashing pallets, strangely comforting.

There’s a pattern, an order to the chaos.

An organic relationship between each role and sound that links them to each other and their world.

Life makes sense for these people, in this block of time.

They know what to do next, how they fit.

Meanwhile, I can’t even seem to figure out the journey from breakfast to lunch.

I shift when I hear the door open behind me so the employee can pass, but I’m surprised when no movement follows. I open my eyes and squint up, nearly flinching at the blurry silhouette leaning over me, encased in sunlight.

“Took care of your pedal board issue already?” Holland asks with a knowing grin.

She drops beside me on the step, forcing me to adjust my position.

Her body is close, so close that I can smell the clean, fresh scent of her hair as she brushes against me.

It’s not her fault, the stairs are narrow, and I swallow.

There goes the dam on my blood again. God, it’s so annoying, and I’m so not in the mood to deal with it.

“Just enjoying a moment of peace and silence,” I respond, trying to sound much more relaxed than I feel.

Her gaze flickers to the line of trucks backed into the loading docks.

“Yeah, it’s quite the sanctuary out here,” she teases. I cast her a quick grin in spite of myself and shake my head.

I can feel her eyes as I look away again and focus on nothing in particular. Just as long as it’s not her. I don’t understand what she wants from me.

“So are you stalking me or something?” I toss casually.

“Don’t even pretend you’re not used to it.”

I smile again as she continues her assault on my sour mood and can’t believe I’m suddenly shy for some reason. No, I’m not used to being stalked by Holland Drake. I have a feeling I’d never get used to that.

“Honestly, no. It’s been a while since I’ve been properly stalked. I’ve been in hiding for a long time.”

“So I’ve heard. Lucky for you, I’m not your typical stalker. Definitely just a gateway fangirl.”

I laugh and glance over at her. “A gateway fangirl? What does that even mean?”

“Um…I don’t know. I think it means I’d go through your garbage, but not steal your dog or anything. I’ll have to check with your fan groups for clarification.”

I can’t stop it, and she grins when I double over in laughter. “Oh my god.” I wipe my eyes, drawing in a deep breath.

“You know, you’re not what I was expecting,” she blurts next, jerking us in an entirely new direction. Nope, not a chance I ever figure out her maze. My gaze shoots back to her at her boldness.

“Really. Well, people usually expect the worst from me, so that’s either good news, or extraordinarily bad.”

She smiles and cocks her head a bit, studying me. “Good, I think. Which could be bad. We’ll see.”

I’m not sure what she means by that, but I’m afraid to ask. Whatever it is, I’m not ready for it. She’s not either, even if she doesn’t know it yet.

“It’s just that you’re intimidating, you know?” she continues, and I let out my breath, caught off guard again. It’s like she’s purposely trying to taunt social etiquette.

“Huh?”

She’s grinning so I know she likes throwing me off balance. “What? Like you don’t know that about yourself? I’m the first to call you out on the enigma thing you’ve got going?”

“I’ve never had anyone tell me that to my face, no. Intimidating, how? Sure it’s not just you who finds me intimidating?”

I swear she blushes a bit as she shrugs, but I don’t feel badly. She started the “smash all social barriers” game.

“No, I doubt it. You’re…I don’t know. Untouchable.”

I laugh again, I can’t help it. Untouchable. Sure. I’ve been Life’s fucking punching bag since the day I was born.

“Untouchable? What does that mean?”

It’s her turn to stare off. She’s carefully considering my question. I can almost see the spark of intelligence, the depth, flashing across her face as she scans the scene around us.

“What’s your middle name?” she asks finally.

I stiffen. “What? Why?”

She studies me again for a second and finally leans back against the railing. “See? That’s exactly what I mean. That wasn’t even an intrusive question. But your instinct forces you to defend. To hide. Mine’s Elizabeth. Holland Elizabeth Drake.”

She sighs, and when her eyes change, I find myself getting drawn in all over again.

“Like I said, you’re an enigma, Luke. You’re a dark, beautiful painting locked high on the wall behind a protective shield of glass.

We all love to approach at a safe distance, but that’s it.

We admire, we stare, we even drool, many mock and hate, but none of us can imagine trying to touch it, to solve the mystery and get behind the glass.

You wouldn’t let us even if we wanted to.

You’re comfortable up there, out of reach. ”

I almost snort as I’m finally able to force my eyes away. “Oh yeah? You got all that from two conversations?”

She laughs softly. “Heck, no. I got all that from hours of listening to Callie gush about you. Our two conversations just reinforce it.”

My gaze turns to a glare as the blood starts to boil. “Callie told you all that? She wouldn’t do that.”

She seems affected by my heated reaction.

“Of course not. She only talks about you as a friend whom she loves and respects. I read into the rest on my own, comparing what she says in sharp contrast to your reputation and what everyone else thinks. I trust her judgment, which means it’s obvious people don’t really know you.

That there’s something else going on. Am I wrong? ”

I stare into the distance again, not sure how to answer that, but positive I don’t want to.

“Do you always just say whatever you think?” I counter instead.

She laughs. “If you think this is bad, you should hear all the things I’m not saying right now.”

I glance over, and despite the momentary darker mood, can’t help but crack a smile at her expression.

“Really? How intriguing.”

She shrugs, but doesn’t resist my gaze.

“Ok, fine. You want to play this game?” I challenge. “What were you going to tell me on the bus yesterday but didn’t?”

Now, she definitely does blush and looks away. “I was right not to say anything. It’s not going to come out any better now.”

I continue staring at her, determined to throw her off her game as well. I can be a damn stubborn painting when I want to be. Finally, she mutters a curse.

“Ok, ok! I was going to tell you that I don’t hook up with other musicians, especially on tour. I just wanted you to know that up front. Nothing personal, just a rule I have.”

My eyes widen in disbelief before bursting out laughing again. Her audacity is so funny and so freaking hot I can’t help it. “Seriously? You were just going to dump that on me right out of the gate? Do you start off every relationship with that warning?”

I can tell she’s embarrassed, but amused at the same time. “No. Only when I think my rule could be an issue for me.”

There it is again. The sudden rush of searing blood. Shit. I draw in a deep breath.