I hit the PS button on the controller, and as the console turns on, I smile. “Watch and learn, novice.”
“Wicked combo,” Dex says from beside me on the couch. He’s leaning forward, elbows on his knees, his eyes wide and glued to the TV screen.
My elf mage casts another spell, freezing her opponents in place, and then she destroys them with a blast of crackling white-blue lightning.
The XP bar goes up, and a tornado of light surrounds my character as she levels up—this time to a real grand sorcerer.
“Fuck.” Dex sits back on the couch, smiling easily. “You’re a little monster.”
My cheeks heat up at his compliment, and he must take notice, because he slips one arm onto the back of the couch—not quite around my shoulders, but close enough that it feels like it—and smirks down at me.
“That’s what I’m gonna call you now,” he says confidently. “Little Monster.”
“Little Monster?” I ask skeptically, pretending to dislike it when in reality I’m dying of joy inside. No one’s ever given me a nickname before—or at least not a cute one.
“Yes, Little Monster.” He leans closer, and his gaze moves from my eyes to my lips, setting me on fire inside.
From the back of the couch, he reaches down and snags a strand of my hair, and I try not to let out a sigh of contentment as he starts twisting the lock around and around his finger. I want him to grab my hair and pull me in, crush his lips against mine, and—
My gaze flicks to the clock on the living room wall, and a jolt goes through me.
“Shit!”
I jump up, dropping the controller onto the couch, and Dex sits back, his brow furrowed in surprise.
“What?”
“My concert! I have to get ready. I can’t be late.”
I can’t believe I let the time slip away from me. I’ve never been late to a rehearsal or concert—ever. And I refuse to start now.
Rushing toward my bedroom, I realize suddenly that Dex Reid is still lounging on my couch. I turn back toward him, and he’s looking at me while absentmindedly scratching Margot behind the ears.
Sitting in my living room in the fading afternoon light, he looks . . . unreal. Like an oasis mirage in the middle of the desert.
“Do you wanna come?” I ask suddenly. I’m not sure where the question even came from, but I find myself resistant to letting him leave, to being parted from him.
In his moment of consideration, I feel foolish. It’s best not to ask questions that could lead to disappointment, embarrassment, or—
“Yeah. Sounds cool.”
Startled and surprised, I blink once, twice. He just keeps looking at me, scratching Margot on the head. Her purring fills the living room, and there’s a swelling of affection in my heart for him.
Stop, I scold myself.
He’s not the guy next door or a fellow musician in my orchestra; he’s a celebrity, a rock star, and falling for him will only lead to suffering.
But when he’s sitting on my couch like that, petting Margot, joking about Legend of Volthorn, it’s hard to see him as Dex Reid: Lead Singer and Guitarist of Loaded God Complex. Instead, he’s just . . . Dex. And maybe that’s what scares me the most.
“Okay, cool.” Flustered, I turn quickly away. “I’ve just gotta get ready real fast.”
I slip into my bedroom and close the door, then lean back against it to catch my breath.
Dex is coming to my concert. He’s going to be out there, in the crowd, watching me.
And the thrill that goes through me refuses to be controlled.
chapter 13
AN HOUR LATER, I’M WEARING my all-black concert attire: an ankle-length dress that’s cinched in at the waist, black pumps, and touched-up black toenail polish. My hair is pulled back in a sleek half-up, half-down style, and I swept a bit of blush onto my cheeks and mascara onto my lashes.
Dex rides in the passenger’s seat as I drive us to the concert hall. I keep glancing over at him, trying to wrap my mind around the fact that he’s here, with me, riding in my Honda Civic like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
It’s a warm evening, and he rolls his window down. The breeze tousles his long hair. Watching it catch in the wind makes me want to reach over and run my fingers through it. I have to squeeze the steering wheel to keep from doing just that.
Dex has his shades on, but it makes no difference; the girls in the car next to us at the red light immediately recognize him. Their faces light up, and all three of them—including the driver—reach for their phones and start snapping photos.
He smiles, but when we take off from the light, he rolls the window right back up and sighs as he settles back into the seat.
“Does that bother you?” I ask, keeping my eyes trained forward. It’s easier to talk to him when I don’t have to be dazzled by his face.
It takes a moment for him to respond. “I don’t know. Sometimes, I guess. Depends on the day.”
I worry at my lower lip, imagining how exhausting it would be to have people recognize me everywhere I go. Leaving my house is enough of a chore as it is.
“I’d hate it,” I say.
