Page 35 of You Rock My World

DORIAN

After Tessa interrupts us, and Josie goes home, I’m still keyed up, my body tight with unspent tension. Every inch of me she touched refuses to forget, it craves more. I regret nothing—except maybe stopping.

I pace the length of my living room, replaying each second of our almost-moment.

Would a kiss really have been that reckless? I ask myself, knowing full well the answer. If we cross that line, everything changes. But right now, the thought of her parted lips is driving me insane. I can’t hold out much longer.

At least my driver reported that no one tailed Josie’s car when he drove it around town earlier.

And it seems my house is not being monitored either.

Maybe I’ve become paranoid where Billie is concerned.

But my ex-wife did things I would’ve sworn she’d never do, so now I’ve learned to be overcautious.

Later that night, I should be asleep. Instead, I’m lying in bed, staring at my phone, waiting for Josie to text me.

She doesn’t. Did I scare her off? She was pretty complicit, but maybe now she’s regretting it?

I should show more restraint. Keep my white gloves on. But that was before she crawled onto my lap and nearly undid me.

I type a message and hit send before I can second-guess it.

Dorian

I can’t sleep after what you did to me today

Josie

I have no idea what you’re talking about

I am a professional rule-follower

I scoff.

Dorian

Right. And I’m a Buddhist monk

She sends an angel emoji—the little halo over the yellow face—but the way my brain is wired now, it’s the equivalent of throwing gasoline on an open flame.

Dorian

Now I’m imagining you in a short angel costume

Josie

You have a thing for feathers?

Dorian

I have a thing for you

Josie

Josie can’t come to the phone right now ’cause she swooned to death

P.S. Sophomore year of college, I dressed up like a sexy angel for Halloween, want a picture?

This is going to make my night so much worse, but I’m a glutton for punishment.

Dorian

Yes, please

My phone pings. I keep my eyes glued to the screen as the image loads, and when it comes into focus, I regret asking for it because now I’m definitely not sleeping.

Josie is in a short white dress with feathery trim and high heels that make her legs go on forever.

The wings are innocent. But not her pose.

She has one hand on her hip, the other resting against a doorframe, head tilted as if she’s deciding whether to let me into heaven or send me straight to hell.

Josie

Sweet dreams

*smiley devil emoji*

Dorian

Don’t tell me you also have a red version of this because I can’t take it

Josie

Now I know what to buy for Halloween

I toss the phone onto the pillow beside me and stare at the ceiling.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, I’ll be normal again.

Or something close enough to fake it.

* * *

The next day, I bury myself in rehearsals. Josie already checked the VMAs setting, so she doesn’t have a plausible reason to be here. And just as well. I don’t think I would’ve been able to function if she were.

I plow through soundchecks. Wardrobe fits. And production meetings.

I should stay focused. I try to be.

But my phone is never far away.

Josie texts between whatever she’s doing, keeping the conversation light, teasing, as we always are. But every time her name pops up, all I can think about is yesterday morning. The weight of her on top of me. How she moved against me.

That I could’ve kissed her right then if I’d let myself. She would’ve let me.

I roll a bottle of water between my palms to shove that thought into some deep, unreachable part of my mind. It doesn’t work.

By the time I get back to my place, my body is exhausted, but my brain is wide awake. I scroll through emails, skim a few VMAs-related articles, open the Notes app to add a last-minute idea for my acceptance speech in case I win, then delete it.

Then I call her.

Not because I have anything specific to say. Just because it’s become second nature, and I want to hear her voice before going to bed.

She picks up on the first ring. “I was about to sleep.”

I smirk. “Liar. You were waiting for me to call.”

She huffs out a laugh. “You have a high opinion of yourself, rockstar.”

“And yet, here you are, still singing along.”

She doesn’t argue.

We talk about the VMAs and how excited Josie is she’ll see the event live. I only got her a backstage pass. I could have gotten her a front-row ticket next to me. But we discussed the risks. The VMAs are a televised event, and we didn’t want to attract attention to her. Not yet.

“Are you sure you don’t mind being backstage?”

“No, I’d rather be where the free alcohol is,” she jokes, making light of a situation that we can’t change for now.

There’s a pause where neither of us speaks. The silence is not uncomfortable, but long enough for me to be aware of it. And in that moment of suspension, I want to tell her things I shouldn’t.

How much I feel for her. That what happened yesterday wasn’t just sexual tension—it was more. Something bigger that I’m struggling to contain. Instead, I only wish her goodnight and read to her until she falls asleep.