Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 100441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100441 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 502(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
I’ve never felt the need to jerk someone off in the middle of a recording session.
When Lyric hinted at regret, internal alarm bells went off, telling me to hold on to him as hard as I could because only a fool would let someone like him get away.
But this whole situation scares the shit out of me.
There are too many what-ifs running through my head and too much fear this will blow up.
That’s why, even though I’m begging for more right now, I slow down.
My kisses become softer. My touch gentler.
Lyric separates his lips from mine, resting his head against the couch cushion. “Everything okay?”
“Food will be here soon, and if we keep going, one of us is going to have to answer the door naked.”
“I’ll do it. Just don’t stop.”
“Thank you for your sacrifice, but the delivery guys know me, and if a naked guy opens the door, I assume tabloids would be all over that.”
“Oh, right. You know, sometimes it’s easy to forget you’re famous.”
“You mean, me signing autographs and taking pictures for almost an hour today didn’t remind you?”
“It did, but here”—Lyric’s hand cups my cheek—“you’re just Ryder to me.”
Damn. Why do those words affect me so deeply? It’s like they’re reaching into my soul and giving me something I didn’t know I desperately needed.
I’m frozen in awe.
“Did I say something wrong? Do you have, like, a fandom kink or something? Want me to be all”—Lyric raises his voice to go high-pitched—“‘Ooh, Ryder Kennedy, I love Eleven, and you’re sooooo cute. Will you have my babies and marrrrry me? I’m wearing your shirt and everything!’ Does that do it for ya?”
I burst out laughing and climb off him to sit up properly.
“I’ll take that as a no.” He sits up too and looks at me with a concerned scrunch in his brow. “What happened just now?”
I run a hand through my hair. “I think the only other time someone has seen me as ‘just Ryder’ was when I was with Maggie. When …” I gesture with my hand for him to come to the conclusion himself.
“When Kaylee was …?”
“Yup. When Kaylee was made. Conceived? I don’t know, pick the most unromantic word you can find because that describes it to a tee.”
“Will you tell me about it?”
I huff. “You want to know the intimate details about me being with a woman?”
“Yes, that is exactly what I meant,” he says. “Give me exact body parts and recreate the whole thing.” He rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
I think about it for a minute. It’s obviously not a story Maggie or I share with people. But for some reason, I want to pour my heart out to Lyric. I want to explain how one awkward night changed my life forever. “When it happened, I was home after an Eleven tour visiting my lovely homophobic parents in Texas.”
“Wait, you’re from Texas? Where’s your sexy Southern accent?”
“You think Eleven’s vocal coaches didn’t practically beat it out of me?” Vocal coaching is a real form of torture. It took months for me to lose my twang and about a year for me to stop naturally returning to it.
“Wow.” Lyric looks worried.
“Not that you’d let them anyway, but labels wouldn’t change your perfect California-boy accent.”
Lyric shakes his head. “Sorry. This industry stuff still surprises me when it shouldn’t. What’s wrong with a Southern accent? You’d think that would be cute and marketable.”
“In Nashville, maybe. Anyway, back in Texas, I wanted out of the house and away from Mom and Pop’s views on how the band’s stylists enjoyed making us all dress gay.”
“Wait, there’s a gay dress code? Is this why I can’t find a relationship? I dress wrong?”
“It’s exactly why. Didn’t you get the memo in the monthly newsletter?”
“Maybe I should check my spam folder.”
“Maybe. It’s kind of crazy how it all happened. The paparazzi hadn’t found me at home yet, so for the first time in a few years, I was free to leave the house and do what I wanted without anyone there telling me not to. It was way past dinnertime, and it was dark, but I wanted out. I walked to the local playground and saw a figure on the swings. I pulled my hood up, but she’d already spotted me. There was little Maggie Costa grinning at me. We’d gone to the same schools since first grade, and it was weird to go from my life of fame straight into the past.”
“Please tell me your daughter was conceived on a playground. That’s so dirty and cool.”
Yup. So romantic. “It would’ve made an awesome rom-com if not for one very glaringly obvious problem.”
“The fact you prefer dudes?”
“Exactly. She was the first woman I’d been with since Eleven’s first year on tour. Sex with women was always hit-or-miss for me. Should’ve been a big clue, right? It wasn’t until I started messing around with guys in the industry who I knew would be discreet that my sexuality started making sense. Even if I still don’t have a label for it, it makes sense to me.”