Trevor: DAMN IT, SOME THINGS DON’T NEED TO BE BROUGHT UP!
Zane: lolololololol we’ll tell you when you’re older, sport.
Me: On that creepy note, I need to go shower and head to bed
Drew: Taking lots of cold showers, are you?
Ty: Hide the socks.
Trevor: Out of lotion?
Me: I’m flipping all of you guys off. I’m not some pubescent teen. Oh also, I lost my virginity at sixteen and slayed in high school, unlike some people. Cough, cough, Zane.
Ty: He was protecting his treasure while you were pillaging every able-bodied female for more.
Me: A man doesn’t pillage. He does, however, give multiple orgasms. I’ll send you a manual later. Sounds like you still need help finding the G spot. It’s cool, bro. Not everyone has that skill.
Drew: I have that skill in spades.
Trevor: We know. We have earplugs because of it.
Me: I’ve never been more proud.
Will: Stop setting a bad example!
Me: Okay, I really am going, I want to know about the pony later.
Zane: You really do. YOU REALLY DO.
Will: You’ll never be the same, and I mean that. I’m shuddering.
Me: I’m out!
They texted a few more times, and then suddenly pictures of ponies flooded our group chat. I was still trying to figure out what the hell would make them so weirded out by that when I finally yawned, so I plugged in my phone and went to sleep.
My alarm, the sound of a cow mooing—don’t ask, the guys constantly changed it without my knowledge, and I kinda got used to the crazy—went off. I begrudgingly went into the bathroom, brushed my teeth, got as presentable as possible—which actually wasn’t all that presentable considering my red hair was basically like a homing beacon for people’s eyes. I threw on a pair of clean joggers and a T-shirt, fully prepared to have to deal with the side of Piper that gave me hives.
Paperwork Piper.
Huh, maybe I should start calling her that just to get a reaction out of her. God, I wanted to hide those heels and black pantsuits more than anything. I mean really, who owned that much black? I was a rock star, and even I didn’t wear that much black—and it was basically the only friggin’ color that didn’t clash with my hair!
When I made it into the living room, I nearly dropped my phone on the floor. Piper was wearing black jeans and a black T-shirt, but miracles did happen, because she had on black Nikes.
I nearly wept.
When she bent over to organize something, I got the perfect view of an ass that had all my attention and then some. She moved slightly to the right of my gorgeous dining room table, and that’s when the bomb went off in my head.
It was like she went to bed thinking, hmmm this isn’t working, maybe he’s right, then woke up and thought, huzzah, I know what will do the trick, crayons!
“What. The. Hell.” I gaped. “Are you doing?”
“Oh Good!” She clasped her hands together and looked ready to bounce up and down. “Perfect timing! We’re going to go over our exercises, not paperwork, but you will be working with paper!” Holy shit, she seemed too proud of herself. I almost didn’t want to burst her bubble.
“This?” I pointed. “This is what you took from our conversation last night?” I shook my head. “I mean, are we finger painting?”
“No. Though we can if you want.” She grinned. Where the hell did she get all this pep? It was like a Starbucks Christmas commercial had exploded in her little body over the last twelve hours. She rushed me and then held out her hands. “Okay, so I know this is going to seem elementary, but bear with me, all right?”
I was afraid to nod my head as my feet slowly shuffled toward the section of my house that now looked like Hobby Lobby. “Well, you’ve got me, I’m at least curious. Are we teaching kids or something that’s going to be altruistic and remind me how lucky I am to do what I love?”
Her expression fell a bit. “No. Actually, we’re going to do something better. We need a place to start, and a vision of what our finish is going to look like.”
Thoughts of ponies suddenly exploded in my brain. No, no, no, no.
I swear the world paused and then went into slow motion as her mouth moved to form the words. “Vision board!”
She even clapped in excitement afterwards.
I blamed the guys for manifesting this in my life, cursing them about a million times before I set down my phone and tried to glare. “I’m not making a friggin’ vision board.”
“Stop being difficult.” She rolled her eyes. “Plus, if you’re a good boy, I’ll even let you use glitter.” She smacked me on the shoulder and then shoved me toward the table. All the while, I felt my balls retreating into my body.
Shit.
Chapter Five
Piper
He looked less than enthused. In fact, he looked ready to set fire to the glitter section of the table, and I had worked really hard to make everything look fun. After our talk last night, I’d realized two things. One, he was being open with me, which was good. And two, the professional me, the one who had very serious boundaries in place, wasn’t gonna get the job done. So I figured if I stopped being so clinical and opened up a bit, he would respond better.
“How is this supposed to help me?” He crossed his arms, making it impossible for me not to take notice of the lean muscles that bulged. It’s like the minute I turned off Life Coach Piper, the girl who found the rock star attractive charged to the surface with a giant roar.
I licked my lips and tried to focus on explaining why this was going to be helpful, but I seemed unable to form words.
He was pretty.
Really pretty.
Focus, Piper!
Still professional. Remember?
I mean, so what if my boyfriend dumped me right before I boarded a plane for Portland, only to be told that the flight was full, and I’d been moved to a middle seat?
It had been a direct flight from LA.
Three hours with no armrest.
But I knew that this was a fresh start, compliments of my ever-changing vision board.
I grinned triumphantly. “Close your eyes.”
He stared me down, his blue eyes twinkling with total judgment before he let out a sigh and did as I asked. “You’re right, Piper, closing my eyes and pretending nobody can see me is super helpful. Gee, why didn’t I think of that? On stage? In front of thousands of people—”
“Sarcasm is oftentimes used as a defense mechanism,” I interrupted. “Now keep your eyes closed. Where do you see yourself in one year?”
“Touring,” he said quickly. “Hopefully.”
“Uh-huh. And where do you see yourself in three years?”
He hesitated for a few seconds. “Making music.”
“Five years?”
He sighed heavily. “I don’t know, hopefully still doing what I love.”
“All right, open your eyes.”
He did as instructed. This time his eyes darted down to stare at his bare feet before locking onto mine. “That just proves that music is my life.”
“Music can’t be your life, Braden.” I said it softly, hoping to lessen the blow, but I saw his body flinch as if I’d just shoved him toward a cliff. I grabbed a blank piece of paper and held it out to him. “You can say that music is your life, that you want to do nothing but make music for an eternity. But a human needs more than just something they’re passionate about. Wanna know why?”