I slip my phone out of the pocket of my shorts and take a deep breath that does nothing to settle me. “Goddammit!” I bark, frustrated at everything as I pull up an entertainment site. Sure enough, Naomi and Florian are plastered all over it. They’re in a restaurant, eating dinner together. He’s touching her face gently in one of them. Like he’s comforting or caressing. In another, they’re both leaning in and speaking intimately. Beneath those two is a picture of Naomi and me walking around the boardwalk, holding hands and looking cozy.
The caption reads, ‘Naomi and her two men. Who will she choose?’
Well, this sucks.
And it hurts more than it should.
And really, how much longer am I going to continue to play this game? This, I want the woman I can’t have, bullshit?
Story of my life right there and I’m sick of it.
She had dinner with her ex the day after I kissed her. And I don’t know how to reconcile that because she doesn’t owe me anything. She’s not mine, and I’m not hers…and it was one kiss and I didn’t call her and…fuck, I hate this feeling.
This burning in my chest.
This ache in my bones.
This sense of feeling out of control. This restless tension spinning through me.
I shake my head, pushing it all away as I lock my phone back up and march in the direction of my kitchen. One kiss. That’s all it was. Professional boundaries from now on. I’ll tell her it was a mistake. That it should never have happened, and that will be that, and this feeling will be gone.
If she wants Florian back, maybe that’s the way it should be. Keeping things professional is the smart play. Evidently the only play I have left with her. Fuck!
I turn the corner and come to yet another screeching halt as Jasper, Keith, and Henry are drinking coffee, leaning against the breakfast bar, and staring at their phones like they’re not in my house uninvited. Great. Just great.
“I’m taking my key back,” I snap at Jasper and three sets of eyes simultaneously fly up to me, their matching wary expressions make me want to punch my fist through the wall.
“You’ve seen this, I take it?” Jasper asks.
I take in a silent breath and pull my shit together.
“Are you referring to the circus outside my house or the who-gives-a-shit-picture in the tabloids?” They exchange looks and right now, I’m really not in the mood for the intervention. “I’m going to shower and change and hopefully have a cup of coffee if you assholes haven’t finished it. Then I’m heading into the studio for the day. Any other discussions about anything other than work are not appreciated.”
“Have you talked to her?” That’s Henry and I wish he would just shut up. I don’t want to talk about this. Not with her or with anyone. Didn’t I just say that?
And yeah, I get that makes me a petulant pussy, because maybe all of this can be explained away. Hell, the media was calling her my girlfriend after a couple of crappy pictures. And let’s not get started on the bullshit they were going on about last year when we were on tour. They get it wrong constantly.
Does it matter?
No, it doesn’t.
My mind is made up and I’m a decisive guy. This was the wakeup call I needed. The thing to get my head out of my ass or the clouds or wherever it’s been since I set eyes on Naomi Kent.
“Nothing to talk about,” I call out as I walk back toward my bedroom, essentially dismissing them. “She’s free to go out to dinner with whoever she wants.”
“This could all be bullshit,” Keith continues where Henry left off. “Don’t you at least want her side of things?”
No. Yes. I scrub my hands up and down my face and slam the door to my bedroom shut. I turn on some music, something loud, and then I shower off the sweat and sand and ocean that’s clinging to my skin. And when I step out, I feel a little more in control.
I rejoin them in the kitchen, annoyed that they haven’t moved, or better yet left, but now instead of wanting to run out the door to the studio, I suddenly want to avoid it.
“You should let her explain before you shut down and lock her out.”
I flip Jasper off because that’s sort of a low blow and he knows it. I pour myself a cup of some much-needed coffee and take a sip. “I’ve known her for two weeks, Jas. Don’t make this into something it’s not.”
“Yeah. But you like her. A lot if your, I-want-to-burn-down-the-world expression indicates anything, which we all know it does. You should let her explain. You of all people know that you can’t take anything those assholes publish at face value.”
Pressing my back into the granite, I turn toward my brother and best friends. “To be honest, I don’t need the distraction she presents. We’re finishing our album up. My attention and focus need to be on that and not on her. Yes, I like her. I’ll get over it.”
But as the words leave my mouth, I know they’re a lie.
Naomi is the type of woman who gets under your skin and stays there. Right now, that sensation feels more like a festering wound than anything else. Writing and producing with her will suck. Singing with her day in and day out will be rough. Downright painful at times, I’m sure. Especially if that fuck stick Florian Heart is around.
I’ll live. I lived through Viola breaking up with me all those years ago, and I was in love with her. I am not in love with Naomi. I’m not. I’m really not. How could I be this soon?
So, this should be a million times easier. Right?
My fingers dive into my hair, brushing the wet strands back.
“I don’t want shit to be awkward for you. Should we look for someone else?” Keith asks, sipping at his coffee.
I shake my head because there isn’t anyone else who can do this. I know it’s her. It has to be. “It won’t be awkward. She and I will continue to be friends. Just not more.” They stare at me with troubled eyes and I practically roll mine. “Relax guys. Everything is cool. Promise.”
Henry pushes off the counter and stands up with a big smile plastered on his lips. “Then I guess we have nothing to be worried about.”
“Nope.” I swallow hard, locking my jaw.
Jasper joins him as does Keith. “Then let’s go.”
As we make our way down the hall toward the studio, I’m wired. I don’t like the extra emotion all of this nonsense brought out of me. The front of the building had more press lining it and it’s like déjà vu all over again. I didn’t like that shit last year, and I’m not liking it any better now.
“This is my life you’re fucking with,” we hear Naomi yell from inside one of the other studios as we pass it. I don’t know who she’s talking to, but she’s pissed, and for some reason, that thought warms me toward her.
“There might just be an explanation after all,” Jasper mutters under his breath.
I’m silent. I’ve been silent since the moment we got into the car.
Keith opens the door to our studio and once we enter, the three of us stop dead in our tracks, practically bumping into each other as we do.
Steven is here, but he’s not alone. He’s talking to Florian Heart, who suddenly seems to be the omnipresent thorn in my side. “Gentlemen,” the magnanimous prick says as he stands up to greet us, smiling so wide I can see every single one of his teeth. “Glad you could make it to the show.”