Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 104498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
I trudge through the soft sand but stall when a lean figure comes from the opposite direction.
When I left my cabin, I purposefully started my run heading past Jet’s. It looked still and quiet, and I assumed he was asleep.
But by the look of him now—skin flushed, sweat dripping down his face, his usually shaggy hair that has a bit of a curl to it—he’s been out here a while. He’s in a loose pair of basketball shorts and a tank top that shows off his full sleeve tattoo.
“Told you we’d run into each other.” He’s smiling this morning at least.
I breathe hard, only I don’t know if it’s because of the workout, seeing Jet, or if I’m just mirroring the rapid rise and fall of his chest. “I expected a rock god like you to still be asleep.”
“I’m on artist time.”
I cock a brow.
“Push myself until I pass out no matter what time it is.”
“How do you not die?”
“Drugs,” Jet deadpans.
My face falls.
“Dude, that was a joke. Don’t get your panties in a twist again.”
Instead of lecturing him on recreational drug use, I try for comedy like him. “I only wear panties on the ice.”
It’s his turn to lose the smile. “Seriously?”
I burst into laughter. “No. Jockstraps are kinda a necessity.”
“Could wear them over the top. I’m picturing red lace.”
I ignore the way his eyes scan down to my crotch. “Sure, because that’s a great idea in a locker room. Like I don’t get enough shit for being the only gay guy on the team.”
A moment passes between us where neither of us say any more.
Jet kicks at the sand lazily. “I don’t sleep well on the road. I was kinda hoping a vacation would be different, but it’s another unfamiliar bed in a random place. Makes trying to sleep pointless because I know it’s not gonna happen.”
“You don’t sleep at all while you’re away?”
He shrugs. “The tour doctor thinks I have ADHD, which can affect sleep. Eventually, I’ll get so tired I’ll pass out for sixteen hours or so, but that usually doesn’t happen unless I’m home in New York or with my brothers in Chicago. I reckon it’s more a comfort thing than a hyperactive thing.”
“That’s no way to live.”
“The life of a rock star,” Jet says proudly though I think it’s forced. “So why are you up at ass o’clock on your vacation?”
“Ass o’clock sounds a whole lot more fun than the crack of dawn.”
“Ass crack of dawn then?”
“Better. And, uh, I couldn’t sleep. Was thinking about …” God, don’t tell him what you were thinking about.
“Thinking about …”
“Tampa.” Idiot.
“Oh.”
I mentally prepare myself for the apology that’s about to come out of my mouth. “I was a dick and completely out of line.”
“You weren’t a dick.”
I pull back, surprised. Until he keeps talking.
“I like dicks, and I certainly didn’t like you after that night.”
I laugh again. There’s something about this guy that makes me lighter without even trying. His music, his personality ... It’s everything about him.
“I still stand by a lot of what I said, but I handled it so wrong.”
“So wrong,” Jet agrees.
“Well, I’m sorry.” I hesitate to ask him something I don’t want to know the answer to. “Did you at least do what I said?”
His eyes flutter as he stares down at the ground. Jet’s voice comes out soft, almost ashamed. “Yeah. I did.”
And I’m right. I didn’t want to hear the answer. “Are you—”
Jet shakes his head. “I’m not doing this with you.” He tries to charge past me, but I step in front of him.
“Jet—”
His deep-brown eyes stare right through me. “I’m not doing this.”
I let him go. There’s nothing I can do as he jogs out of my sight. It’s the third time I’ve watched him walk away from me in the last twelve hours, and each time I want to take it back. I want to tell him to stop being a brat, and I want to forget the last three years even existed.
I don’t know why I can’t act normal around Jet. Everything is heightened when I’m near him, and it makes me do and say stupid things. The natural thing to do around him is joke and touch him and have fun, but then I overthink it and what it would mean to flirt with Matt’s little brother.
Maybe all my mind games trying to get myself to see Jet a certain way are finally catching up to me, and now I have no idea how I’m supposed to see him.
I so haven’t had enough sleep to analyze this shit, and all I keep wondering is where it all went wrong.
Chapter Six
JET
TAMPA
Another city, another dingy club, another show. The glamorous life of a rock star that was supposed to be all parties, sex, and luxury? Yeah, that didn’t happen if you didn’t have any number ones.