“And being recognized can be a pain in the ass sometimes. Now and then, it gets ugly. There’s a fair bit of pressure on us and I can’t always do what I want. Truth is, I’m kind of ready to slow things down, hang out at home more.”
I said nothing, turning his words over inside my head.
“The parties get old after a while. Having people around all the damn time.”
“I bet.” And yet, back in LA he’d still had a groupie hanging off him, cooing at his every word. Obviously parts of the lifestyle still appealed. Parts that I wasn’t certain I could compete with even if I wanted to. “Won’t you miss some of it?”
“Honestly, it’s all I’ve done for so damn long, I don’t know.”
“Well, you have a gorgeous home to hang out in.”
“Hmm.” He was quiet for a moment. “Ev?”
“Yeah?”
“Was being an architect your idea or your dad’s?”
“I don’t remember,” I admitted. “We’ve always talked about it. My brother was never interested in taking up the mantle. He was always getting into fights and skipping class.”
“You said you had a tough time at high school too.”
“Doesn’t everyone?” I wriggled around, turned over so I could see his face. “I don’t usually talk about that with other people.”
“We talked about it. You said you got picked on because of your size. I figured that’s what set you off with my friends. The fact that they were bullying that girl like a pack of fucking school kids.”
“I guess that would do it.” The teasing wasn’t a subject I liked to raise. Too easily, it bought back all of the crappy feelings associated with it. David’s arms didn’t allow for any of that to slip through, however. “Most of the teachers just ignored it. Like it was an extra hassle they didn’t need. But there was this one teacher, Miss Hall. Any time they started in on me or one of the other kids she’d intercede. She was great.”
“She sounds great. But you didn’t really answer my question. Do you want to be an architect?”
“Well, it’s what I’ve always planned to do. And I, ah, I like the idea of designing someone’s home. I don’t know that being an architect is my divine calling, like music is for you, but I think I could be good at it.”
“I’m not doubting that, baby,” he said, his voice soft but definite.
I tried not to let the endearment reduce me to a soggy mess on the mattress. Subtlety was the key. I’d hurt him in Vegas. If I was serious about this, about wanting him to give us another go, I needed to be careful. Give him good memories to replace the bad. Memories we could both share this time.
“Ev, is it what you want to do with your life?”
I stopped. Having already trotted out the standard responses, extra thought was required. The plan had been around for so long I didn’t tend to question it. There was safety and comfort to be had there. But David wanted more and I wanted to give it to him. Maybe this was why I’d spilled my secrets to him in Vegas. Something about this man drew me in and I didn’t want to fight it. “Honestly, I’m not sure.”
“That’s okay, you know.” His gaze never shifted from mine. “You’re only twenty-one.”
“But I’m supposed to be an adult now, taking responsibility for myself. I’m supposed to know these things.”
“You’ve been living with your friend for a few years, yeah? Paying your own bills and doing your classes and all that?”
“Yes.”
“Then how are you not taking responsibility for yourself?” He tucked his long dark hair behind an ear, getting it out of his face. “So you start out in architecture and see how you go.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is. You either stick with that or try something else, see how it works for you. It’s your life. Your call.”
“Do you only play guitar?” I asked, wanting to know more about him. Wanting the topic of conversation to be off me. The knot of tension building inside me was not pleasant.
“No.” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—he knew exactly what I was about. “Bass and drums, too. Of course.”
“Of course?”
“Anyone passable at guitar can play bass if they put their mind to it. And anyone who can pick up two sticks at the same time can play drums. Be sure to tell Mal I said that next time you see him, yeah? He’ll get a kick out of that.”
“You got it.”
“And I sing.”
“You do?” I asked, getting excited. “Will you sing something for me? Please?”
He made a noncommittal noise.
“Did you sing to me that night?”
He gave me a small pained smile. “Yeah, I did.”
“So it might bring back a memory.”
“You’re going to use that now, aren’t you? Anytime you want something you’re going to throw it at me.”
“Hey, you started it. You wanted to kiss me for scientific purposes.”
“It was for scientific purposes. A kiss between friends for reasons of pure logic.”
“It was a very friendly kiss, David.”
A lazy smile lit his face. “Yes, it was.”
“Please sing me something?”
“Okay,” he huffed. “Turn back around then. We were in spoon position for this.”
I snuggled back down against him and he shuffled closer. Being David’s cuddle toy was a wonderful thing. I couldn’t imagine anything better. Pity he was sticking with the scientific rationale. Not that I could blame him. If I were him, I’d be wary of me.
His voice washed over me, deep, rough in the best way possible as he sang the ballad.