–Me: OK. What time?
–Mir: Don’t know yet. When we’re done shopping and getting ready. How about we meet at seven at her place?
It was barely four. Unease sat in my belly.
–Me: How long does it take to shop and get some clothes on?
–Mir: No judging. Us girls are entitled to spend our time as we see fit.
Yeah, but did Emily think this was a good use of her time?
On the other hand, I recalled the way she’d told me—in no uncertain terms—to stop drumming the second time we saw each other. She could handle my bulldozer sister.
Probably.
After putting the phone down, I picked up the sticks again and started to drum the beat of our first major hit, “Sweet Nothings,” and sing. The song was five years old, but still a fan favorite. It also had a special spot in my heart, not to mention the rest of the guys’. No one ever forgets their first. I thought my heart would burst when I heard somebody request it on the radio for the first time. And still got a thrill when people wanted to hear Axelrod’s music.
My mind started to wander. The beats changed into something different. The melody coming out from my throat was altered, too. The sound was fresh—a little sweet, a little edgy. Too new to be anything definite yet, like a wildflower sprout coming up in a field, but it had potential.
Snippets of possible lyrics started to coalesce in my mind. Flashes of images. I closed my eyes, joy welling inside. The dam that had blocked my flow wasn’t there anymore. Inspiration was just trickling in, but I knew it was only the beginning. My gut told me there was more to come. Torrents of music, and I had to be ready and quick enough to catch every drop of the words and tunes before they vanished. Because inspiration was that fleeting.
Then suddenly it all poured out, the beats, the lyrics and the song. Shivers rushed through me as I sang my heart out in the living room with nobody to listen.
When the Darth Vader theme went off, I stopped, my body drenched in sweat. I realized it was dim in the living room, the sunlight a weak orange. Shit. I picked up the phone.
“Yeah?”
“Hey, you coming or not? It’s seven,” Mir said, her voice hushed. From the way she sounded, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was cupping her mouth like she was telling me a secret.
“Already?” I lifted my gaze to the clock on the wall—7:03.
“I texted you half an hour ago so you could come wait, but you didn’t answer.”
I hadn’t heard my phone ping. I was still high off the new music. “Why would you want me to wait half an hour?”
“That way you look like a gentleman. Gentlemen always come early and wait.”
I rolled my eyes. Mir had the weirdest ideas sometimes. Emily was too practical to want somebody hanging around for half an hour for no reason. “Okay, sorry. Look, I need to grab a quick shower here.”
“Fine. Make it fast. Emily’s almost ready. I’ll leave the door open so you can slip in quietly and pretend like you’ve been waiting like a good man.”
I hung up. So technically I wasn’t late, because Emily wasn’t ready yet either. But from the way Mir had spoken, I might as well have missed the last flight to heaven.
I bounded up the stairs to take the fastest shower in history. Emily might still have some prep to do, but it would be embarrassing to have her wait because of me.
Excitement ran through me as I got ready. Although my sister was tagging along, this felt like a real date, with me and Emily going out.
I finger-combed my still-damp hair and put on a dark blue V-neck shirt with black jeans. Then, on a whim, I put on a necklace with the band’s logo: a stylized A done in sterling silver. I no longer felt like an imposter whose music had gone dry, so I felt worthy to wear it again.
Then I went over to Emily’s, and sure enough, the door had been left ajar.
“Come on in,” my sister said. She was in a tight black dress with a low neckline and a super-short skirt. A dark plum color coated her lips, and her lashes were heavy with mascara.
“Should you be wearing that?” I asked, not liking her outfit. Although she was a big girl now, I remembered some of the assholes in town who’d had crushes on her. Men were all fucking dogs, and my sister should be more covered up.
“Why? It barely shows anything. Besides, God gave me these legs. They’re too pretty to remain hidden.”
She did indeed have a pair of nice, long legs. I could admit that—grudgingly—but that didn’t mean I wanted every guy in town staring at them. “Still. That dress is way short.”
“It’s only three inches above the knees. Nobody can see my underwear when I bend down. Now stop being medieval. Your groupies wear a lot less than this. And for God’s sake, don’t criticize Emily’s outfit.”
I gave her a sidelong glance, wondering if Emily was going to wear something similar to what Mir had on. I wanted to see Emily’s body, but at the same time I didn’t want her parading around in so little material, for all the assholes in the town to drool over. “Did you pick it out for her?”
“Of course. That’s why we went shopping.” Mir beamed, looking proud.
I tried not to cringe. Mir was a firm believer in showing off one’s assets. Sometimes it seemed like she was applying for Dev-groupie status. And I didn’t want Emily to dress like a groupie. I wanted Emily to dress like how she’d normally dress when she went out to a bar.
“Hey,” came Emily’s voice from the staircase.
I turned my head. Air caught in my lungs as I took her in. Her hair was down, flowing over her shoulders in gentle golden waves. Pink lipstick and blush added a lovely flush to her face, and the scarlet dress she had on covered everything it needed to, but also fitted over the soft curves of her breasts, the sexy double dip of her waist and flare of her hips. Her feet were in a pair of pale silver sandals with thin heels. The entire ensemble was hot as hell, and made me want to unwrap her like a Christmas present.
My heart pumped faster, my blood heating up.
She stepped down the stairs, running her fingers along her hair, and gave me a small smile. “Do I look all right?”
Finally, air came back into my lungs. “Wow,” I said. “Yes. Better than all right.”
Her smile widened. “You look pretty neat yourself.”
“I didn’t realize we had to be this fancy.”
“Mir said the bar has a dress code,” Emily said.
“She did?” That lying little…
My sister stuck her tongue out behind Emily.
Impudent, too. But then I got to see Emily decked out. She was pretty anyway, even with her hair messy, glasses skewed and in an old T-shirt and ratty yoga pants. But I didn’t know until now how much more beautiful she could be. I couldn’t believe I’d thought she was a vagrant when we first met. Now I wished I’d brought flowers, because a woman this stunning deserved them.
Emily deserved the best.
Making a mental note to get some later, I extended an arm. “Ready?”
“Yup.” She placed a hand in the crook of my elbow. “Let’s go.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Emily
Although I’d spent close to two hours fussing over my hair and makeup, all the while arguing with Mir, the end result was worth it. The look on Killian’s face was the perfect reward for the effort—the darkening of his blue eyes and the soft exhale of breath when he’d said, “Wow.”