"Yeah. Music's the only thing that ever really made sense to me. Can't imagine doing anything else."

"Huh." It must be nice, having something to be so pa.s.sionate about. I liked the idea of being an architect. Many of my childhood games had involved building blocks or drawing. But I didn't feel driven to do it, exactly. "I'm pretty much tone deaf."

"That explains a lot." He chuckled.

"Be nice. I was never particularly good at sports either. I like drawing and reading and watching movies. And I like to travel, not that I've done much of it."

"Yeah?"

"Mm."

He shifted behind me, getting comfortable. "When I travel it's always about the shows. Doesn't leave much time for looking around."

"That's a pity."

"And being recognized can be a pain in the a.s.s sometimes. Now and then, it gets ugly. There's a fair bit of pressure on us and I can't always do what I want. Truth is, I'm kind of ready to slow things down, hang out at home more."

I said nothing, turning his words over inside my head.

"The parties get old after a while. Having people around all the d.a.m.n time."

"I bet." And yet, back in LA he'd still had a groupie hanging off him, cooing at his every word. Obviously parts of the lifestyle still appealed. Parts that I wasn't certain I could compete with even if I wanted to. "Won't you miss some of it?"

"Honestly, it's all I've done for so d.a.m.n long, I don't know."

"Well, you have a gorgeous home to hang out in."

"Hmm." He was quiet for a moment. "Ev?"

"Yeah?"

"Was being an architect your idea or your dad's?"

"I don't remember," I admitted. "We've always talked about it. My brother was never interested in taking up the mantle. He was always getting into fights and skipping cla.s.s."

"You said you had a tough time at high school too."

"Doesn't everyone?" I wriggled around, turned over so I could see his face. "I don't usually talk about that with other people."

"We talked about it. You said you got picked on because of your size. I figured that's what set you off with my friends. The fact that they were bullying that girl like a pack of f.u.c.king school kids."

"I guess that would do it." The teasing wasn't a subject I liked to raise. Too easily, it bought back all of the c.r.a.ppy feelings a.s.sociated with it. David's arms didn't allow for any of that to slip through, however. "Most of the teachers just ignored it. Like it was an extra ha.s.sle they didn't need. But there was this one teacher, Miss Hall. Any time they started in on me or one of the other kids she'd intercede. She was great."

"She sounds great. But you didn't really answer my question. Do you want to be an architect?"

"Well, it's what I've always planned to do. And I, ah, I like the idea of designing someone's home. I don't know that being an architect is my divine calling, like music is for you, but I think I could be good at it."

"I'm not doubting that, baby," he said, his voice soft but definite.

I tried not to let the endearment reduce me to a soggy mess on the mattress. Subtlety was the key. I'd hurt him in Vegas. If I was serious about this, about wanting him to give us another go, I needed to be careful. Give him good memories to replace the bad. Memories we could both share this time.

"Ev, is it what you want to do with your life?"

I stopped. Having already trotted out the standard responses, extra thought was required. The plan had been around for so long I didn't tend to question it. There was safety and comfort to be had there. But David wanted more and I wanted to give it to him. Maybe this was why I'd spilled my secrets to him in Vegas. Something about this man drew me in and I didn't want to fight it. "Honestly, I'm not sure."

"That's okay, you know." His gaze never shifted from mine. "You're only twenty-one."

"But I'm supposed to be an adult now, taking responsibility for myself. I'm supposed to know these things."

"You've been living with your friend for a few years, yeah? Paying your own bills and doing your cla.s.ses and all that?"

"Yes."

"Then how are you not taking responsibility for yourself?" He tucked his long dark hair behind an ear, getting it out of his face. "So you start out in architecture and see how you go."

"You make it sound so simple."

"It is. You either stick with that or try something else, see how it works for you. It's your life. Your call."

"Do you only play guitar?" I asked, wanting to know more about him. Wanting the topic of conversation to be off me. The knot of tension building inside me was not pleasant.

"No." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth-he knew exactly what I was about. "Ba.s.s and drums, too. Of course."

"Of course?"

"Anyone pa.s.sable at guitar can play ba.s.s if they put their mind to it. And anyone who can pick up two sticks at the same time can play drums. Be sure to tell Mal I said that next time you see him, yeah? He'll get a kick out of that."

"You got it."

"And I sing."

"You do?" I asked, getting excited. "Will you sing something for me? Please?"

He made a noncommittal noise.

"Did you sing to me that night?"

He gave me a small pained smile. "Yeah, I did."

"So it might bring back a memory."

"You're going to use that now, aren't you? Anytime you want something you're going to throw it at me."

"Hey, you started it. You wanted to kiss me for scientific purposes."

"It was for scientific purposes. A kiss between friends for reasons of pure logic."

"It was a very friendly kiss, David."

A lazy smile lit his face. "Yes, it was."

"Please sing me something?"

"Okay," he huffed. "Turn back around then. We were in spoon position for this."

I snuggled back down against him and he shuffled closer. Being David's cuddle toy was a wonderful thing. I couldn't imagine anything better. Pity he was sticking with the scientific rationale. Not that I could blame him. If I were him, I'd be wary of me.

His voice washed over me, deep, rough in the best way possible as he sang the ballad.

I've got this feeling that comes and goes Ten broken fingers and one broken nose Dark waters very cold I know I'll make it home This sorry sun has burned the sky She's out of touch and she's very high Her bed was made of stone I know I'll break her throne These aching bones won't hold me up My swollen shoes they have had enough These smokestacks burn them down This ocean let it drown When he finished I was quiet. He gave me a squeeze, probably checking I was still alive. I squeezed his arms right back, not turning over so he couldn't see the tears in my eyes. The combination of his voice and the moody ballad had undone me. I was always making a mess of myself around him, crying or puking. Why he wanted anything to do with me, I had no idea.

"Thank you," I said.

"Anytime."

I lay there, trying to decipher the lyrics. What it might mean that he'd chosen that song to sing to me. "What's it called?"

"'Homesick.' I wrote it for the last alb.u.m." He rose up on one elbow, leaning over to check out my face. "s.h.i.t, I made you sad. I'm sorry."

"No. It was beautiful. Your voice is amazing."

He frowned but lay back down, pressed his chest against my spine. "I'll sing you something happy next time."

"If you like." I pressed my lips to the back of his hand, to the veins tracing across, and the dusting of dark hair. "David?"

"Hmm?"

"Why don't you sing in the band? You have such a great voice."

"I do back-up. Jimmy loves the limelight. It was always more his thing." His fingers twined with mine. "He wasn't always the a.s.shole he is now. I'm sorry he ha.s.sled you in LA. I could have killed him for saying that s.h.i.t."

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. He was off his face. He didn't have a f.u.c.king clue what he was talking about." His thumb moved restlessly over my hand. "You're gorgeous. You don't need to change a thing."

I didn't know what to say at first. Jimmy had said some horrible things and it had stayed with me. Funny how the bad stuff always did.

"I've both puked and cried on you. Are you entirely sure about that?" I joked, finally.

"Yes," he said simply. "I like you the way you are, blurting out whatever s.h.i.t crosses your mind. Not trying to play me, or use me. You're just ... being with me. I like you."

I lay there speechless for a moment, taken aback. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Anytime, Evelyn. Anytime at all."

"I like you too."

His lips brushed against the back of my neck. Shivers raced across my skin. "Do you?"

"Yes. Very much."

"Thanks, baby."

It took a long time for his breathing to even out. His limbs got heavier and he stilled, asleep against my back. My foot went fuzzy with pins and needles but never mind. I hadn't slept with anyone before, apart from the occasional platonic bed-sharing episode with Lauren. Apparently, sleeping was all I'd be doing today.

In all honesty, it felt good, lying next to him.

It felt right.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

"Hey." David padded down the stairs seven hours later, wearing a towel wrapped around his waist. He'd slicked his wet hair back and his tattoos were displayed to perfection, defining his lean torso and muscular arms. There was a lot of skin on show. The man was a visual feast. I made a conscious effort to keep my tongue inside my head. Keeping the welcoming grin off my face was beyond my abilities. I'd planned to play it cool so as not to spook him. That plan had failed.

"What'cha doin'?" he asked.

"Nothing much. There was a delivery for you." I pointed to the bags and boxes waiting by the door. All day I'd pondered the problem of us. The only thing I'd come up with was that I didn't want our time to end. I didn't want to sign those annulment papers. Not yet. The idea made me want to start puking all over again. I wanted David. I wanted to be with him. I needed a new plan.

The pad of my thumb rubbed over my bottom lip, back and forth, back and forth. I'd gone for a long walk up the beach earlier, watching the waves crash on the sh.o.r.e and reliving that kiss. Over and over again, I'd played it inside my mind. The same went for our conversations. In fact, I'd picked apart every moment of our time together, explored every nuance. Every moment I could remember, anyway, and I'd tried d.a.m.n hard to remember all of it.

"A delivery?" He crouched down beside the closest package and started tearing at the wrapping. I averted my eyes before I caught a glimpse up his towel, despite being wildly curious.

"Would you mind if I used your phone?" I asked.

"Ev, you don't need to ask. Help yourself to whatever."

"Thanks." Lauren and my folks were probably freaking out, wondering what was going on. It was time to brave up to the b.u.t.t-picture repercussions. I groaned on the inside.

"This one's for you." He handed me a thick brown-paper parcel done up with string, followed by a shopping bag with some brand I'd never heard of printed on the side. "Ah, this one too by the look."

"It is?"

"Yeah. I asked Martha to order some stuff for us."

"Oh."

"Oh? No." David shook his head. Then he kneeled down in front of me and tore into the brown package in my hands. "No 'oh'. We need clothes. It's really simple."

"That's very kind of you, David, but I'm fine."

He wasn't listening. Instead he held up a red dress the same thigh-baring length as those girls at the mansion had worn. "What the f.u.c.k? You're not wearing this." The designer dress went flying and he ripped into the shopping bag at my feet.

"David, you can't just throw it on the ground."