As Dust Dances (Play On #2)

“You’re right,” I finally responded, grateful that my voice came out strong, my tone neutral. “A lot is about to happen and I need to be focused.”

He assessed me carefully and I gazed at him, seemingly unconcerned. When I was about to throw the salt shaker at him to get him to stop looking at me like a wounded animal, Killian nodded. “Good.”

How could it be so easy for him?

Was it only physical attraction for him? Was that why? Did he not feel the pull between us, like there was a cord that drew us together despite our resistance?

Was that all in my head?

I stabbed some salad with my fork, unable to look at him. “So, what’s next?”

“Next?”

“With the album?”

“Well, how’s the wrist?”

“Not quite ready. I tried playing and I was in pain for the rest of the day.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He sounded so formal.

“Yes, it was quite taxing,” I teased in an uppity voice.

He gave me an unimpressed sigh. “In the meantime, I’ve put together a PR and marketing team. We should arrange a meeting with them. See how we can find ways to handle the inevitable circus when the news of your return hits. And then we can look at how to make sure, once the initial interest fades, that your publicity is career-focused. We don’t want your personal life becoming tabloid fodder again.”

“Yeah, it would be good if we avoided that.”

“I’ll arrange the meeting, then? You’re ready for that?”

I didn’t know if I’d ever be ready for it, but this was happening whether I wanted it to or not. I stared at the man partly to blame for that, wishing I could hate him. “I should probably start checking in on the world, right?”

“How do you mean?”

“Before I sit down in a room with a bunch of people to discuss protecting my personal life, I should probably google a thing or two about the current state of my ex-band.” The thought made the food in my stomach churn unpleasantly.

Killian couldn’t mask his concern for me, and my patience slipped. “I don’t mean to be a bitch, but if we’re not going to be friends, you can’t look at me like that anymore.”

For a second his expression turned hard, but then it was gone, that signature blank fa?ade slackening his features. “Fine. I’ll get you a laptop. You can google to your heart’s content. Just don’t come running to me when it messes with your head before you’re ready to deal with it.”

“Oh, I won’t.” I gave him a tight smile. “O’Dea.”

Killian stared at me apparently emotionless . . . but the little tick of muscle in his jaw gave his frustration away.

It was a tiny balm to my own.





* * *





WHEN A DAY PASSED AND Killian still hadn’t gotten me access to a laptop, I began to suspect he was deliberately avoiding doing so. I could’ve hounded him about it and he would’ve brought me a borrowed one, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to start opening all those wounds. Maybe he understood that better than I did.

Yet, when another day passed with another failed attempt to play my guitar, I started to feel stir-crazy. It had only been two days—and there had been days in the past eighteen months that I hadn’t spoken a word to anyone—but I was used to speaking to Killian almost every day, and if not him, then Autumn.

How mad at me was she? The thought of losing her friendship made me feel sick, so I finally got up the nerve to text her.

I didn’t mean 2 go behind ur back 2 O’Dea. I was worried abt u.

While I waited for a response, I read a book but I read the same paragraph fifteen times before my phone finally binged in response.

I’m not mad. Just embarrassed. Also I’m worried about you . . .

Oh no. Did we have to have another open conversation about how her brother and I were planning to ignore our attraction . . . because awkward.

But my phone binged before I could respond.

. . . You text in abbreviation? Skylar, I’m shocked. Really. Maybe you should see a text therapist. Xx I grinned, absolutely relieved she was joking with me.

Me: I know. It’s a problem. I’ve tried rehab bt it didn’t stick.

Autumn: Why would you miss the ‘u’ from ‘but’? It’s one letter! Lazy much??

Me: I cld b mo lzy . . .

Autumn: It’s sad that I understood what that meant. Xx

Me: So wht u doin?

Autumn: Trying to decide what I want to do with my future.

Me: Heavy. Dya wanna take a break from the heavy?

Autumn: What did you have in mind?

Me: Anythg tht will get me out of this apt.

There was no response for a minute or two, but finally she replied.

Autumn: Have you ever been to King Tut’s?

I felt a flush of excitement at the thought. King Tut’s Wah Wah Hut was one of Glasgow’s cult music venues. It was where Alan McGee discovered Oasis. Blur, Biffy Clyro, Radiohead, Kings of Leon—they’d all played there. New bands and old still played the venue. The guys and I had wanted to see it for ourselves when we played Glasgow, but we never got the chance.

Me: No so don’t dangle that carrot unless u mean 2 let me eat it!

Autumn: LMAO. Would I do that to you?

Me: Possibly . . .

Autumn: A friend bought tickets to see this guy I’ve never heard of but she has to work now. I googled the guy—Saul Crowe—and he’s really good. Do you want to come with me? It’s tonight at 8pm. Xx Me: 100%!

Autumn: Okay, great! I’m actually not in the city today so I’ll just get back in time for the gig. Can you meet me there at 7:45pm?

Me: Not a problem. See u then! Can’t W8T!

Autumn: Too many abbreviations!!!!!! Xx

I laughed and replied:

Me: xx is an abbreviation for kiss, kiss.

Autumn: Well, it sounds creepy as kiss, kiss . . . xx

Me: True. x

Autumn: Aw, I got a kiss from Skylar! I feel special. Xx

Me: :p



I TOOK A CAB TO St. Vincent Street that evening because I had no idea how to get to King Tut’s from the apartment. When the cab driver dropped me off, I was slightly confused. We were on a wide sloping street in the commercial part of the city. Opposite me was a glass office building, but behind me was a row of typical Georgian townhouses that had been converted into business premises and apartments. Lights below a large bay window of one lit up the big King Tut’s signage beneath it.

Huh. Not at all what I’d expected.

Apparently, King Tut’s was an inconspicuous basement bar.

I shivered in the cold November air, hugging myself as I watched two young couples walk down the steps to the entrance. Not really knowing what to wear and sick of jeans after twenty months of wearing them, I’d chosen a casual but formfitting black dress Autumn had talked me into buying a few weeks ago. It had a scooped neck that bared my collarbone and dipped low in the back, three-quarter-length sleeves, and it hugged my thighs to a couple of inches above the knee. Paired with my black tights and wedged black boots, it wasn’t overly revealing but it had a casual sexiness that made me feel good.

It’d been a while since I felt good about my body, but I’d gotten my hips and ass back over the last six weeks and I wanted to celebrate it. Yay for peanut butter!

However, I hadn’t wanted to overheat in the venue so I’d only thrown on my blazer and a scarf and was consequently freaking cold waiting outside for Autumn. Then I realized she hadn’t specified where we would meet. Inside or out?

Me: I’m outside. U here yet?

After what felt like forever because of the aforementioned chill, my phone binged.

Autumn: I’m inside. At a booth in the bar. You’ll see me as soon as you come in. xx Thank God. Hurrying down the steps, I pushed open the door, desperate for some heat in my bones. I might have a beer. It had been a long time since I’d had a beer.