Bo looks at me out of the corner of his eye and suddenly pulls his hands away. “Try that.”
Despite the way he smells and how his hands felt against mine, I’m able to play. I flawlessly pull off the chord transition that’s tripped me up for a week straight.
Regan hoots from behind the glass, “Yes! Perfect!”
“Thank you,” I whisper as I slide the strap over my head. “I’ve gotta get up to the girls.”
His hand slips over mine as he takes his guitar back. “Any time.” The smile’s gone.
I force a smile and race out of the studio and up two flights of stairs to reach Rae’s room.
“Ember, I’m sorry,” Rae says as if she didn’t notice my eight-minute absence. “I didn’t think about how this might be weird for you ...getting ready here.” She stares into herself while she pumps mascara over her already impossibly long eyelashes.
“Oh, sure you did, Rae, don’t protect her. She’s being an ass.” Monica glides gloss over her pouty lips, nearly cheek-to-cheek with Rae.
A bad taste infiltrates my mouth.
“What the fuck, Monica?” Between whatever the hell just happened in the studio, and her bad attitude, I’ve about had it with her shit.
Rae looks between Monica and me through the mirror.
“You’re in love with him, Ember. The past few weeks have only made that more clear. Your face lights up whenever he walks in a room and falls when he’s not in the room you thought he’d be. The reason why it was so hot and heavy at the beginning is because it is the real deal. Nothing you do with Adrian Turner is going to change that.” Her betrayal is instantly evident to her as her cheeks redden deeper than the blush she started applying.
Rae swallows hard, forces the most uncomfortable smile I’ve ever seen, and heads into her room.
“Thanks a lot, Mon,” I huff as I turn to follow Rae.
I find Rae shoving hangers from left to right in her closet, seemingly without purpose.
“Rae ...what Monica said about Adrian ...” I sit on the edge of her bed.
“No, Ember, it’s fine. I saw you two holding hands after our first meeting, and I didn’t think it was anything. I didn’t think you’d move on—” She cuts herself off, shrugs and turns toward me with glistening eyes. My stomach slides away. “I’ve seen it too, you know. The past few weeks, the way your face changes when Bowan’s around. It gave me hope, I guess.”
I find myself scanning every conversation Bo and I have had with an audience. We’ve been professional, but that doesn’t mean eyes and smiles cooperate.
“It’s not about moving on, Rae.” Why am I defending myself here? “Shit, you know, maybe I should just go home—I can pay you for my ticket.”
“That’s bullshit, November, don’t do that. I know Bo hurt you. I was just hoping that by now he would have proven that he didn’t mean to.” She sniffs and slides a teal spaghetti-strapped dress over her tiny frame.
“I know he didn’t mean to, Rae...and the stuff with Adrian—Monica doesn’t even know what she’s talking about. Please don’t say anything.” I rub my damp palms along the edge of her comforter.
Can this get any worse?
Rae sits next to me with her hands between her knees. “I won’t say anything to Bo. Just...please don’t lead him on, OK? He’s in love with you, and if you give him even a sliver of hope that gets destroyed, he’ll be crushed.” She’s not looking at me; she’s talking to her closet.
Yes, this is much worse.
“I haven’t meant to lead him—”
“I know you haven’t. I’m not saying you have, but cut the bullshit banter with Ainsley, OK? It only fuels her fire, and gives Bo a reason to think ...” She shakes her head and looks at her hands.
“I’m sorry, Rae.”
“I love you, November. You know that? For me, you’re like a sister and that won’t change. But you were the best thing that happened to Bo, and I don’t care what anyone says about how fast, crazy, and reckless it was. It was you two. It was your story, no one else’s.”
I pull her into a tight hug, fighting tears for something I can’t identify. I’m upset that Rae is hurting over me and Bo, my best friend isn’t on my side, and a gorgeous fiddle player I barely know senses the screwed-up war raging inside me. I haven’t let myself fully reassess my true feelings for Bo since I left Adrian’s hotel room that night, and right now is not the time to start. I’ve been proud of how we’ve handled our working situation, but it seems like that isn’t working for more than one person involved. Before I can give it any more thought, Monica comes in holding my ringing phone.
“It’s Adrian,” she says dismissively.
Caller ID, you traitorous bitch.
I grab my phone and answer, while I head down the stairs and outside.
“Hey you, what’s up?”
“Not much, babe, haven’t heard from you since Tuesday night.” His voice tenses my insides.
“Adrian, I’m so sorry. This week I had like eight hundred teleconferences, and we’ve got the concert tonight—”
“Who’s going?” I hear him swallow what I can only assume is beer, based on his cool tone.