Rock My Heart (Luminescent Juliet #4) (10 page)

Gabe’s gaze turns thoughtful. “What was the name of
his band?”

“Hanged Man.”

“Hanged Man,” he repeats slowly, then shakes his
head. “Never heard of them.”

I shrug, keeping my attention on him instead of the
guitar. “Like I said, they weren’t very big.”

“Hmm,” is his only response as he studies the guitar
in his hands. He adjusts its position, raising a knee and placing his fingers
on the neck.

“Please don’t mess—”

Standing there like a rock god come to life, he
strums. The clear, sweet notes fill the room, beckoning me toward the instrument.
He obviously does know a few cords at least. During the second strum, he
watches me.

Even with my clenched hands behind my back, my body
language is pure tense. “Why did you come over?” I snap, then add, “To torment
me?”

His brows rise. “Whoa. I didn’t know this equated to
torment.”

I’m about to start shaking. I want the guitar. I
want him. I don’t want him touching the guitar. Except for my father, no one
has ever played it but me. Before I lose it, as in have a ridiculous tantrum, I
force myself
to calmly say
, “It’s just that my dad
gave the guitar to me, and I may be a bit over protective of it.”

“All right,” he says, studying me. Again. Then while
I hold my breath, he puts the guitar in the case, snaps it shut, and sets it
back in the corner. I’m enjoying breathing when he asks, “Better?”

I nod, though my body is still wound too tight.

He steps toward me, a sly smile on those lips. “I
did come over for something specific.”

My heart starts pounding as he gets nearer. With the
guitar away, all I can see is him. His hard profile. His muscled arms and
shoulders. His full upper lip. “You did?” I squeak out.

“Oh, yeah.” He comes closer, his gaze suddenly
intense. “I wanted…”

I tip my chin in question while my entire body hums
at his nearness. “You wanted?” I practically breathe the words instead of
saying them while my body hums like an electrical tower at his nearness.

Those brown eyes somehow smile at me. “I wanted to
see how your piercing is doing.”

“My piercing?” I repeat caught in the mirth of his
gaze.

He nods, and now his mouth smiles.

Oh,
he has the prettiest mouth!
I think before understanding what
he is asking. Part of me, the newly awakened hormonal part, is hyperventilating
at his obvious flirting. The other part, the part of me with a brain, realizes
I need to get control of myself and the situation. I sweep my arm toward the
living room again. “Not going to happen, so…”

He crosses his arms. “Not leaving until I perform a
full inspection.”

“What is this? Invade April’s privacy night?” I say,
my voice rising with each word.

The arms across his chest tighten and bunch. “I
could be gone in the next thirty seconds.”

I glare at him.

He grins back.

“Is that thirty seconds a promise?”

“Yup.”

“Fine.” I yank my shirt up, planning to drop it as quick,
but I’m not expecting Gabe to fall to his knees and fold his hands over mine.
His palms on my hipbones are hot. His thumbs on each side of my belly button
are scalding. The intensity of his gaze is an inferno. As he brushes his thumbs
along my skin, tracing the shape of my belly button, my knees tremble.

His attention is locked on my stomach, on the little
silver note hanging over the center of my belly button. “It looks good, real
good,” he says in a hoarse tone. His thumbs keep circling. My knees keep
trembling.

What the heck is he doing?

Then while my body is turning into a puddle of goo
and my hands are shaking with the desire to wrap in his hair, he bends forward
and places his open mouth on me, right around the piercing.

I fight to keep a moan from escaping. When his
tongue touches the dangling note
and
my skin, I lose the fight, and a long whiney breath of air escapes me.

He leans back, rolling into a squat. With the rise
of his dark lashes, russet eyes meet mine. “I think that makes us even,” he
says in a light tone, and though it’s his usual flippant tone paired with a
grin, his expression is taut to the point that it looks as if he’s in pain.

As I stand there frozen in desire and distress, he
releases my shirt and bounces up. “Guess I
gotta
go
if I’m going to keep
that thirty second promise
.” He
stiffly moves past me and into the living room. “See you Tuesday,” he calls
before exiting out of the apartment.

At the sound of the door shutting, I plop on my
bedroom floor.

The tingling rush of yearning he evoked slowly
dissipates and I can think again.

Well sort of.

What the heck just happened? The tingle that lingers
a bit has me ridiculously hoping that Gabe was seriously flirting. My brain
tells me he had been teaching me a lesson, getting me back for my behavior in
the rain. Yet the rush of emotions he brought out leaves me confused and
hopeful while embarrassed and fearful.

I brush a hand over my slightly quivering stomach.

One thing is for sure. My body wants him.

It wants him
real
bad.

Chapter 14

~April~

In one eight-hour
shift, the average number of calls we get working the suicide hot line is
three. Three people too many. Three people alone in the dark. Three people that
are on the brink of giving up. One call can last hours. The longer the better.
We offer words of encouragement and understanding, but mostly we simply listen.

Romeo and I trained together over three years ago,
and we’ve worked a lot of Sundays together. Yet, he was gone for half of the
summer on tour, so I worked with a variety of other people, mostly teenagers
and college students. The hotline prefers teenagers and young adults because
those ages are the highest bracket for suicides. Rachel’s suicide brought me
here. Romeo’s own past demons brought him.

Since there are usually long lulls between calls, we
were kind of destined to become friends. Over the last three years, we have
talked about everything from music to Riley to classes. And although he didn’t
admit it right away, he knew who I am, as in who my father is, from the moment
we sat in the first class.

A fan and student of guitar, he had read several
articles and interviews over the years in various guitar magazines about my
dad, and he’d even read that
one
.
During my sixteenth summer,
Guitar Page
had done a five page story on my dad. I’d been at the house, so they not only
asked questions about me,
but
included me in some of
the photos. Once Romeo finally admitted he knew who I was—even though my mother
changed my last name to Tanner, so it matched hers and my stepfather’s—he
agreed to keep mum about my father. And he has kept that promise. Riley doesn’t
even know my connection to music.

Yet, while Romeo and I are close, I’ve kept my
perfection mask pretty much in place around him since we met. Perhaps that’s
why we never connected when we tried dating for a couple of months. But we’ve
stayed friends, good friends actually.

Its mid-afternoon and we sit in a tiny room with two
desks facing each other and two phones across from each other. He pushes a pile
of mini candies onto my desk. I always bring the sandwiches, veggies, and dip.
He brings the chocolate.

“So,” he says, plucking a mini peanut butter cup
from the pile. “I was leaving Sam’s last night, practically dragging my buzzed up
girlfriend to the car, when I noticed what looked like Gabe leaving your
apartment.”

He says it all nonchalant like, but it’s as if he’s
dropping a bomb. Only I would be so lucky that they would both leave at the
same time.

“Well, it was Gabe.” I lean back in my chair,
playing nonchalant too, though I do try to be as honest as possible around
Romeo.

He pauses unwrapping the chocolate, shock lining his
face. “You think that’s a good idea? Hooking up with Gabe?”

I pluck a mini candy bar from the pile. “It’s not
what you’re assuming. We’re not hooking up. We’re just friends.” I tap the
chocolate on the desk. “It kind of started the night of your label party when
Riley pushed us together, so blame it on her.”

“Huh?” he says, continuing to appear skeptical as he
chews. “You and Gabe friends?”

I shrug. “You know the saying, opposites attract.”

“Exactly. Gabe has come a long way since joining the
band, both in attitude and drumming, but he is too messed up for you.”

I drop the candy bar. “Are you implying that he’s
not good enough for me?” My tone drips with incredulity.

Romeo’s dark eyes widen. “No. Of course not. It’s
just that you’re you and he’s him.”

My brows rise.

“You have a four point, a planned future, an
organized life, and rarely date. He goes through girlfriends by the month—by
the day on tour—he works as a part time mechanic, and is on probation for
assault and battery times two. It’s not a question of good enough. He is just
screwed up.”

“Wow. You make me sound like the biggest bore on the
planet. And people do make mistakes.”

“You’re mature. He’s getting there, but it might
take years.”

“Again boring. And there are reasons for Gabe’s
mistakes. Perhaps not excuses but reasons. And we
really
are just friends.”

He watches me as if judging my words and tone. “Just
be careful. You may be more mature but he’s jaded.”

“All right then.” I roll my eyes. “And
you
may be more business savvy, but
Riley has more soul.”

“No shit. Why do you think I’m with her?” He plucks
another piece of candy from the pile. “I’m more boring than you.”

“And stubborn.”

“And talented.”

“
Pfft
.”

“Prove it then. Join Riley’s band.” His stare
challenges me.

Oh, not this again. He has been trying to talk me in
to playing guitar for Riley’s band from the moment she began forming it. “Not
going to happen.”

“Not going to give up.”

“Wasting your time,” I say, unwrapping a piece of
candy.

“Then I
am
the most talented.”

“
Pfft
.” I pop the
chocolate in my mouth.

He shakes his head. “You may not be at
my
level”—he smirks—“but you’ve got to
be better than what she has currently got.”

I give him a narrowed look as I finish chewing. “If
I ever removed that thing out of its case, it wouldn’t be Luminescent Juliet.
It would be Luminescent April.”

He laughs. “That name suck—”

The phone rings and we instantly stop harassing each
other.

Since it’s his rotation, he picks up the phone and I
begin filling in the log. Though I listen to his side of the conversation,
we’re just friend
s faintly echoes in my
head, and strangely that echo saddens me.

Chapter 15

~April~

“She should dive into
the shallow end of a pool,” Misha says, staring at me.

I keep my appearance void of anger, irritation, or
even pity as I glance around the circle. No matter how mean she gets, I refuse
to lower myself to
Misha’s
level. And though
sometimes it’s hard for me to believe, I’m aware the girl is a witch because of
whatever pain she is hiding.

Jason stares at the floor. Gabe sits with his arms
crossed and wears a bored expression. Chad stares at
Misha’s
chest.

It’s the same old same old.

Though everyone in the group is aware that Gabe and
I hang out—at least to conquer the bucket list—group has not gotten better. In
fact, Misha is worse than ever, obviously hoping that being a monumental witch
will get Gabe to join her side—the hate April for no apparent reason side.

Jeff clears his throat. “Misha, lashing out at
others won’t help you, and breaks the respect inside our circle. If something
has happened that recently hurt you, please share that with us instead.”

She lets out a huff then draws in a breath.
“Something did happen.” She scans Gabe’s stretched out legs. “I met a man, an
older man. He comes in every Thursday for a lap dance,” she says, dragging out
the last two words.

Now that
Misha’s
stripping,
there is no bounds to her ego. Sadly, I’m pretty sure her ego is a front. For
what I haven’t totally figured out—though I’m guessing it’s connected to her
lack of self-esteem. However, she definitely uses sex as not only a way to get
attention, but also as a shield.

Chad practically drools. Jason keeps his eyes on the
floor. Gabe looks bored. Jeff’s brow wrinkles in a scrunch.

“After, he waits for me until closing, takes me for
a drive in his corvette, and I blow him off,” she says low and seductive,
before she slams into the back of her chair. “But the asshole won’t tell me his
name!”

“Well,” Jeff says slowly, as his hand curls tightly
around his binder. “Perhaps—”

Gabe sits up and interrupts with, “Do you enjoy
being slutty?”

Misha whips toward him, a snarl growing on her red
mouth.

“Gabe!” Jeff says.

“No, really,” Gabe continues. “If you enjoy it, then
more blow job power to you, and who gives a shit if he tells you his name? And
who cares what people think? But if you’re looking for more from these guys,
then you need to stop blowing men off in bathrooms, cars, parking lots, and
walk in coolers, because they aren’t going to give you more. They’re just going
to take from you without an ounce of respect.”

Misha’s
hands clench around the edge of her seat, as if she’s ready to attack. “Fuck
you. Maybe I’m a sex addict. Did you think of that, asshole?”

Gabe sits back, crossing his arms once more. “Then
once again, you don’t need to know his name.”

“Sex addicts
can
feel guilty,” she huffs.

He nods. “Still don’t need to know his name.”

Chad glances between them, mostly likely deciding if
his lust for Misha outweighs his fear of Gabe.

The air cracking with tension, Jason quietly says,
“If you don’t respect yourself, no one will.”

 
“Fuck you too,
freak.”
Misha
looks like she is going to jump across
the room and throttle Jason.

I scoot to the front of my chair, ready to intercept
her.

“Leave him alone,” Gabe says in a low tone.

“Okay, everyone,” Jeff says, attempting to take
control. “I think Gabe is actually trying to help you,
Misha
,
though he should have used kinder words.”

Misha’s
top lip curls at Jeff before she points to me and spits out, “Just like
her”—the girl never says my name—“what I do is
my
business.”

Gabe leans forward putting his elbows on his knees.
“Then quit bragging about
blo
—”

“I think that is enough,” Jeff says quickly in a
fake chirpy tone. “I’d like to share a positive story about…”

As Jeff drones, I tune him out, watching Gabe out of
the corner of my eye. Though he should have been more polite, I’m impressed
that he had the balls to call
Misha
out
.

Soon my watching turns into admiring. He is dressed
in his normal jeans and white T-shirt. The muscles of his arms appear tight and
smooth. His long legs are stretched out to the middle of the circle. Sun
streaked hair brushes the hard line of his jaw scruff. Studying him, I feel
like one of the fan girls who swoon over Luminescent Juliet. I want to lean
across the circle and touch him, see if all that sexy appeal is real or a figment
of my imagination or newly awakened hormones.

Gabe looks up and I realize I’m not watching him
from the corner of my eye anymore. I’m full out staring at him. He smirks at me
as I snap away. I keep my eyes adverted for the rest of the session, through
Jeff’s long story and through his assignment—sharing a happy time for the next
session.

Outside in the parking lot, Gabe catches up with me.
He’s still wearing that darn smirk.

“You busy tonight?”

I almost trip because it sounds like he’s asking me
out. He can’t be asking me out. “Why?”

“During a break this week, my manager was talking
about where he took his kids last weekend. It gave me an idea for the next item
on the list.”

I hit unlock as I come to my car. “What item?”

His smirk expands. “Why not let it be a surprise?”

I open the car, trying to ignore his closeness. “Why
not just tell me?”

“You busy?” he demands, grabbing hold of the top of
my door.

I slip into the front seat. “Homework.”

“It’s a bit of a drive. You can do it on the way.”

Brows lowering, I wonder what he could possibly be
planning.

He lets go of the door. “I’ll pick you up around
six.” He steps away, but over his shoulder says, “Dress warm.”

As my brows lower more, I watch him walk across the
lot and wish my heart hadn’t picked up speed at the thought of being alone with
him.