“Nothing good in life is a good idea.” He leans in. “If you really don’t want this … If you really, truly don’t want me …”
“Timothy …”
“Then I’ll go. For good. I’m not here to be in your way. Until the concert started and I heard your song, I was fully prepared to do just that—to leave.” His grip on the doorknob tightens. “I’m not here to get in your way. But maybe I can show you … a different way. A way to let you be Chase Holt …andAustin.”
“It’s impossible,” I say automatically. “I can’t risk your safety. I won’t hide you, either. What are you expecting me to do?”
“I’m expecting you to heed the messages in your own fucking songs and stop lettingfearrun your life.”
His face seems to come closer. Or else I’m just drawn in to him like fire to a way out, growing too hot, too hungry to be contained a second longer.
“What doyouwant?” he asks. “What doesAustin Holtwant?”
My face is a stone when I look him in the eyes. I want him to go, that’s what I want. Then I wouldn’t be tempted by his dreamy eyes to do something I’ll regret. I won’t be reminded of what I’m sacrificing to keep this tour afloat, to keep Ian’s dreams alive, to keep all these people around me happy and employed and getting regular paychecks doing what they love to do.
I reach for his hand, prepared to take it into mine, apologize deeply, and ask him to leave my life forever.
My hand touches the doorknob instead.
I lock the door.
“My last name … isn’t Holt.” I meet his eyes. “It’s Love.”
He stares back. “You’re kidding me.”
I take his face right then and direct his lips to my own.
After a second’s shock, he clutches me like we never let go in the hotel room, and our kiss resumes right where it ended.
I stagger back, falling against a wall, as Timothy takes me over with our kiss. This is not the same kiss we shared in the hotel. It is ravenous. Out of control. Beyond anything I would have dreamed in my loneliest nights on the road.
Making up for every second we lost.
Trying to outrun something constantly on our heels.
I slip my hands around his waist to his back and tug his body closer, even though there’s no space left between us. He clutches me back with twice as much force, clinging to my shirt so tightly, you’d think he was afraid I’m about to disappear again.
“Austin,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Tim,” I say back, too out of breath from the kiss for the rest of the syllables in his name.
Something takes over, and my hands hook under his thighs to carry him straight to the counter. He sits, legs spread, as I press into him, hands locked around the small of his back, keeping him close. His hips grind into me from his new seat on the counter. His fingers curl into my shirt, twisting the fabric. I clutch him tighter by the waist, by his pants, by whatever I can find, as if it’s all I can do to keep myself together.
I can’t tell which of us is in control right now, if either at all.
Laughter echoes on the other side of the door, then goes, as if some crew members passed by in the middle of a joke. We stop for an instant and glance back at the door, then at each other.
Out of breath.
Lost in each other’s eyes.
I could’ve said no. Let him leave. I might have been ripped up for a while. Reminded of him now and then. I would’ve eventually moved on with my life, forgotten this episode with the boy from Spruce who got to me in a way I didn’t think possible anymore.
I can’t believe I almost let that happen.
“Now we’ve gone and done it,” I mutter.
He cracks a smile. “Yeah, we have.”