I laugh. “Yeah. You are. But like I said, there are a million girls who’d jump at the opportunity—”
“I don’t want a million girls. I want you.”
My heart somersaults at those words from his lips, but I have to be practical. “I’m sorry. There’s absolutely nothing you have that I would want.”
“Everyone wants something, Lola. Even you. Come on. What is it?”
An idea pops into my head, but I’d never voice it out loud.
Would I?
Karl leans over, propping his elbows on the table. His hand rubs his chin. “What about guitar lessons with the best guitarist in the world?”
My jaw slackens for a moment before I recover, then I decide to tease him a little to lighten the mood. “You can get me guitar lessons with Slash?”
His mouth gapes with fake shock, and he nudges my knee with his under the table. “Hilarious.”
We both laugh.
“But how about it?” he continues. “Two months. Twenty thousand dollars and two months’ worth of guitar lessons while you’re here.”
“My plane ticket is non refundable,” I say before realizing how stupid that sounds. It wouldn’t matter with twenty thousand extra dollars in my pocket.
Karl rolls his eyes. “Fine. Guitar lessons, twenty thousand dollars, and one plane ticket. Or you can take the private jet. Fritz is always going off to Mexico. I’m sure he’d love an excuse to go, and he can take you when the two months are up.”
“You have a private jet?” I ask.
“Not me personally, but the label does, yeah. But, Lola,focus. What do you say?”
I twist the hem of my shirt between my fingers. He’s tempting me. And as tempting as his offer is, there’s something I want more than his money. But I’m too ashamed to ask for it.
“You’re thinking about it,” he says approvingly.
I chew the inside of my lip. “Is the offer open to negotiations?” I ask in one breath, but I can’t meet his eyes.
When I look up again at him again, he’s smiling, and amusement flickers in his eyes. “I knew there had to be something you want.”
“There is.” My face feels a million degrees as I break out into a sweat.
“Lola, you’re flushed,” he says, amused. “What is it?”
“I, um—” I clear my throat. God. How do I say this?
“Spit it out, Lola. It can’t be that bad.”
“I don’t want the money.”
“Okay, whatdoyou want?”
“The guitar lessons, for one. . .”
“And?”
“And.” Oh god, I’m going to pass out from embarrassment.
“And what, Lola? What else do you want?” Karl takes my hand in his and squeezes it reassuringly, urging me to go on. I stare down while he rubs the back of my hand with one calloused finger.
I smile down at our linked hands, and without looking up, I close my eyes and blurt it out in one breath before I chicken out. “Guitar lessons, and you take my virginity.”