Blowing out a breath, I ran my hands through my hair, startled when my fingers met the short fake tendrils of my wig. For a minute there, I’d forgotten I was Sticks, the guy drummer. I’d just been Remy...talking to Asher.
“It’s...” Mentally reminding myself I was a guy here, I tried to think up a male way to describe it, but a second later, I just blurted out, “At first, it’s nerve-wracking as hell. You’re always afraid to show your true self. You just want them to see what you think they’ll like, so you’re always on edge, hoping to impress him and trying to figure out if you even like him in return. Even though it’s kind of thrilling and exciting too. But then...then something finally clicks, and you realize you have this...thing...this amazing thing in common with each other that you don’t really have in common with anyone else. Pretty soon, you’re opening up more of yourself and discovering that more parts click, and before you know it, life is amazing and you’re thinking about them night and day. You can’t wait to see them again, and you love everything about everything.”
Asher cracked a dreamy grin as if he were imagining what I described, and he liked the visions it produced. “Really?”
I nodded. “And then he turns into a fucking lying bastard who rips your heart out, shatters your trust and leaves you a bitter hardened bitch of a human being.”
He blinked and pulled back. “Wow. Uh, I was not expecting you to end that way.”
“Well...” I shrugged. “It’s not happily ever after for everyone.”
He studied me a moment before murmuring, “What did the bastard do to you?”
I shrugged and began to play with the sheets that had bunched down to my lap. “He just...I mean, besides making me come to feel as if he was doing me a grand favor by being with me, he cheated on me with every woman who’d take him on and—”
“He slept with other women?” Asher tipped his head to the side in confusion.
Shit, I’d forgotten the gay thing again. Grr. Clearing my throat, I mumbled, “Yeah, he, uh, he’s bi.” And strangely, that lie felt really good to spew. Fisher would hate being called bi. Ha!
Nodding as if understanding, Asher winced in sympathy. “Well, that had to suck. What else were you going to say he did?”
“Oh. He, uh…I wrote him a couple songs and...he stole them, sang them in his band and claimed they were his own.”
“Shit,” Asher murmured, compassionately. “No wonder why you didn’t want me looking at your notebook.”
I shrugged and held up the pages of lyrics I’d created. “Sorry, I wasn’t accusing you of being a plagiarist. I just...you know what? I know you’re not like him. Here.”
I tossed the notebook across the beds and into his lap. He picked it up, hesitation glimmering in his green eyes. “Are you sure? I totally respect your privacy, man. And I get why you’re—”
“Just read,” I mumbled. “If you even think about stealing any of my lines, I’ll just cut off that huge cock of yours and force-feed it to Gally.”
He laughed. “Fair enough.” Before opening the pages though, he tossed me his booklet.
A knot formed in my throat at his return trust in me. When he flipped open my notebook, I did the same to his.
A second later, I gave a low whistle. “Damn, these are amazing.”
“Ditto,” he murmured distractedly, too busy reading my work to talk.
I flipped the pages, growing increasingly stunned that he hadn’t already turned some—okay, most—of them into songs.
“Seriously, Asher. You have some wicked, awesome talent.”
“Hmm?” Distracted, he glanced up and right back down. Chewing on the end of his pen—something I totally did when I was stuck on a line—he returned his attention to my notebook. “Thanks, but I’m not writing worth shit these past few days. I keep getting stuck on this one line.”
“Oh, yeah?” I flipped to the last page. “Let’s see what you got.”
“Wait!” Tossing down my lyrics, he leapt off his bed and snatched his own from my hands.
I blinked at his sudden reserve. Then I grinned. “Oh, come on. Don’t hold out on me now. Sing me what you have so far.”
He shook his head. “I’ve never...I usually can’t sing my stuff aloud until I have an entire song fleshed out. It feels...weird.”
“Then speak it in words, because seriously, how the hell am I supposed to help if I don’t know where you’re stuck?”
“You don’t have to...” He must’ve read something in my expression because he gave a long-suffering sigh before he flipped through pages and silently read through the words. Then he shook his head. “Yeah, I don’t think I can just read it either. I’d have to sing it.”
I lifted my eyebrows. “Then sing.” I knew the man wasn’t afraid to sing in front of an audience, but he suddenly looked uncertain.
He sent me an uncomfortable glance. “Don’t carp on me if it ends up sounding shitty, all right?”
I rolled my eyes. “Try trusting me a little more than that, will you? I know nothing’s perfect the first time though.”
“Okay, fine.”