I’m lying to myself. I know why.
Because Hollis is right. I can deny it all I want, but ever since the first time I met him there’s been something drawing us together. A tug. A bond. It makes no sense. I hated him on sight, his cocky smirk and every word that left his stupid smart-ass mouth.
We ordered our food, and I got a drink, a strong one, in order to get through this without spontaneously combusting on the spot. I have to limit myself to only one since I have to drive home and it doesn’t sit well with me. A drunken stupor would be helpful at a time like this. Then I could pretend this whole encounter was a dream.
The Wild has barely been in Virginia a week, and here I am. Out with Hollis as friends when we both know the simmering heat between us does not lead to friendship.
More like friction between the sheets.
But I refuse to go down that path. I’ve been burned in the past before and not by someone in a band who is known to be the worst for loving and leaving. I refuse to be another tally in whatever book he keeps of his conquests.
Hollis takes a swig of beer, his throat bobbing with the motion.
Even his throat is sexy. It’s entirely unfair.
“Why are we here?” I ask, spreading my arms wide.
We’re sitting on the outdoor deck. It’s packed enough I have to raise my voice to be heard. Above us fans whirl quickly, trying to keep patrons cool from the humid evening air.
“Getting to know each other.” He lays his corded muscled arms on the table.
“So far, we haven’t done much of that,” I remind him.
He smiles. “Ask me something then.”
I press my lips together. “What’s your family like?”
“Dad left when I was barely two years old. Haven’t seen the bastard since. My mom worked her ass off to support us. She’s amazing. Her side of the family is all I know and they’re pretty cool too. All I want is to be able to take care of her so she doesn’t have to.”
I’d be lying if I said my heart doesn’t stir at his confession.
“Where’d you grow up?”
“Tennessee—that’s two questions so now I get two,” he warns, waving his fingers in front of my face.
“Fine,” I grumble.
“What’s your biggest desire?”
I narrow my eyes and he groans.
“Not what I meant. I mean, what do you wish for mos
t? What do you hope for? Get it now?”
I sigh, thinking seriously about how I want to answer.
“I want to be successful on my own merit. I don’t want people to whisper I’m only where I am because of my dad or my last name. I want people to value my opinion because it’s good and important to them. I want to be my own person, Mia, not Joshua Hayes’s daughter.”
“I respect that. One more question.” He thinks for a moment. “If your life was a song, which would it be?”
“Beauty in Madness,” I say, referring to one of Willow Creek’s songs. “When you have a famous parent, there’s a lot of beauty to it, lots of amazing opportunities, but there’s the madness and chaos too. It can be a beautiful exhausting mess. My turn?”
He nods.
“Why am I different to you?”
I don’t know what makes me ask the question. Why it’s so important to hear his answer.