Theo’s eyebrow rose at that.
“Hand to God. He ordered these kits online and they came with the picture and the colored thread and everything. And he would do them in the van, at night, backstage, you name it. Then he’d leave them around when he finished. At the venue we played at, or as a thank-you for crashing on someone’s couch. Not that they were actually much of a thank-you, because those things were ugly as sin. They looked like puzzles your grandmother would have. A barn, or a basket of flowers, or a kitten hanging from a piece of yarn, shit like that.”
Theo’s laugh was warm and rich.
“Lord, once he did one of a…one of those Christmas villages? Bright red and brown. Ugliest thing. And he was so proud of it, because it took him weeks. So he left it for this girl he liked down in New Orleans, at a bar we played at there. She was too nice to tell him it was ugly, but I guarantee you that thing is not hanging above the bar like she promised.”
Theo had his shoulders hunched and his hands shoved deep in his pockets, and it pulled his pants tighter against his ass.
“An escape,” he murmured.
“Yeah. Anything you like to do? Besides music, I mean.”
“I used to like to read. I…I haven’t much lately. Not sure why.”
I would wager a guess that it was because he’d gotten famous, but I just squeezed his shoulder again.
“Well, there you go. Stick in headphones, crack a book, throw on some shades, and you can pretend you’re sitting in Central Park.”
“I knew you were a pro,” Theo said as we turned onto the path that would cross the bridge. At my raised eyebrow, he shrugged. “Something about how you played. And that song. Just, damn.”
I braced myself for the questions that usually followed. Should I have heard of you? Or, What are you working on now? Or, What happened, then? But they didn’t come. Theo looked at me out of the corner of his eyes for a moment, then started humming, like he was telling me he wouldn’t push the issue.
I felt myself relax and turned the conversation back to him.
“You play guitar. But not with the band?”
“Yeah, I love guitar. Coco’s better than me, though, and Dougal said—anyway, we don’t need a second guitar live. I play on about half the tracks on the albums.”
“Who’s Dougal?”
“Our manager. The band’s manager. He was Coco and Ethan and Ven’s, first. Now mine, I guess.”
“You don’t have a personal manager? Or does your agent handle both?”
“Um. Well, my agent works with Dougal. We just thought it’d be better to share, since it’s about the band’s interests, you know?”
When I glanced over at Theo, he seemed unbearably young, and it was clear he’d either gotten some very bad advice, or not listened to any advice at all. Looking at the tight set of his shoulders and the anxious line between his dark brows, I put my bet on the former. He paused, hands on the rail, to look out over the East River, and I had the sudden unbidden urge to stand behind him and wrap an arm around his chest, pull his body to mine, feel his back against my chest, his hair in my face.
“Are your interests always the same as the band’s?” I asked instead.
His shrug was eloquent, overwhelmed.
“I don’t want to be a brat about it.” He spat the comment out, and it had the ring of an echo, like this was something he’d been told many times before.
But the word brat sent a quake of lust through me. I could picture him that way in bed. Bratty and demanding of everything he wanted from me.
I would make you beg first, and then I would give you everything.
I let my fingertips skim his hair and started walking again, not trusting myself to keep my hands off him if he kept staring out at the water all sweet and moody like that. Even things that needed you could hurt you in the taking. It was a lesson I’d had to learn too many times to forget it now.
“They’re great, usually. The band. I don’t want you to think—”
“Hey, kid, I’m not the press. Don’t worry.” I smiled at him, and he gave me a tentative one back.
“They are, though. Most of the time. I was the new kid, you know? They’d all been together forever, so sometimes it just feels a little like I’m on the outside, that’s all.”
“Yeah. It can be a lonely biz even if you’re on the inside.”
And it sure as hell could be lonely to grow up in it, leave it, and realize you’ve got nothing left without it.
Chapter 3
Theo
“Coming up?” I tried to sound casual when we got to my building. “You can crash, if you want.” Since you just spent nearly two hours walking with a total stranger when you were going to sleep on someone’s couch. Caleb gave me a look that said he was well aware that wasn’t all I wanted. He raked me with his eyes, an assessing once-over that made me shiver with promise.