Accidental Rock Star (7 page)

Dylan reminded Tyler of
Max. Max kept people out, but he was the first to have your back
when shit went down. Like the crap in L.A. Tyler had always hit the
gym with his bros, and Max had taught them all some kung fu. But,
after the first stalker email, Max had upped the lessons. Serious
mat time. Tyler had kept the practice up. And he wasn’t so new that
he couldn’t take this piece of shit out if he kept up crap about
Aria. He could take them both out. Shove one chair leg with his big
foot to take Ethan out. Dylan would be the harder take down. An
elbow to his face would be his best maneuver. Make enough blood
flow to distract him from the fist coming from the other
direction.

Dylan patted his
shoulder, not realizing how close he was to eating floor. “It’s
cool. She’s cool.”

Ethan scooted forward.
“We’ll help you get her.”

Tyler’s anger drained
at those ridiculous words. Like he needed help getting a girl.
Girls went to bed staring at his poster on their walls. They
dreamed about him all night and woke up to an alarm clock with him
singing to them. Girls. Aria was no different. His circumstances
were different. But at their core, all girls were the same. Why he
was thinking anything else he didn’t know. He rolled his
shoulders.

Ethan nodded. “But
she’s a friend. So if you do her wrong…” He trailed off, as if not
knowing how to end the threat.

Dylan narrowed his eyes
at Tyler. “Just don’t.”

At the tap of the
conductor’s wand, they all turned their attention to Director
Garcia. “A music scale comprises how many notes?”

Aria’s hand went up
first.

Tyler texted her.
I
need more education. Tonight
.

He didn’t get the reply
until lunch.

After school? My
house. 624 Elkville Road
.

Her house?

Her move.

***

Tyler walked in
carrying three guitar cases and an amp. He’d been hot before, but
add instruments—wow. Sexy. “This way.” She led him to the living
room where Aunt Bev’s scratched-up old acoustic lay on the
couch.

Tyler laid the cases on
the floor and popped the lids. Aria knelt beside him. Her breath
tightened.
Gibson. Fender. Jackson.

Tyler traced the wood
grain on the Fender. Aria ran reverent fingers along the same path,
feeling the quality, trying not to coo, maybe cooing a little. When
Tyler stopped his hand she stopped hers. His fingertips pressed
into her palm. The sensation danced and echoed up her arm. She
wanted to curl her fingers into his, but made herself lift her hand
away. She focused her interest on the guitars. “Why do you have all
these if you don’t play?”

Tyler glanced away.
“They belong to a friend in the music industry.”

“Some friend. And he’s
letting you use them? Is he a musician? Can I meet him?”

“Hell no.”

Aria startled. She’d
meant to talk to him about music, but Tyler looked jealous. His
lips were parted, and his green eyes flashed. It was an attractive
expression.

His gaze shot across
the instruments. “Can I pick these up? Learn all three?” Something
in his eyes seemed to be testing her, as if someone had told him he
couldn’t play them.

“With practice.” She
sounded like Director Garcia. She touched his arm. “You’re amazing
with the drums. You’re really picking things up fast.”

Tyler nodded and sat on
the sofa, his frame dwarfing her usual spot. He picked up a
lizard-shaped throw pillow and arched his eyebrows.

“Yeah. My parents work
at the Leithville Lizard factory.”

Tyler tapped a stack of
Corporate World
magazines she hadn’t opened. “Are these
theirs?”

“They’re mine.” Aria
wrinkled her nose. She’d gotten the subscription for her birthday
last spring after she’d declared she’d major in business and the
stack was growing. “I just haven’t gotten to them yet. I want to
read them though.”

Her ringtone sounded,
cutting off whatever he was going to say. She checked the
screen.

Hunter:
Hey Band
Geek. Did you see the new lizard decals on the players’ lockers?
Pretty sweet, huh?

Yeah. Great use of
booster club money. Aria typed,
The snouts are a little
pointy.
They were freaking cute as hell. The band needed
some.

Hunter:
Whatever.
Didn’t see you after school.

“Who are you texting?”
Tyler asked.

“Hunter.”

“Why’s he texting you?”
His words held tension.

Because she hadn’t shut
Hunter down and her hints weren’t working. Heat filled her face.
She shoved her phone in her pocket. “About the new decals.” Aria
shrugged. “His dad gives a pretty good discount to the football
players.” She waved her hand over the cases, her fingers itching to
lift out the instruments and examine them. “Which do you want to
start with?”

***

They spent an hour in
Aria’s living room in serious lessons. She was all about the chords
and repetition. Aria took music seriously, she frowned and
concentrated and threw out facts, figures, and plans of action for
furthering his studies. And her fingers. They flew over the strings
with a practiced confidence that was so freaking hot. Tyler had a
hard time focusing unless he found a spot on the wall to stare at
that didn’t have a photo of Aria.

They were taking a
break from practice, and Aria toyed with a row of half-burned
orange candles on the kitchen counter. “I can’t believe your old
school didn’t cover this.”

Tyler shrugged.
Sometimes less was more with the lies. He could read music, he’d
studied music. But it was how long to hold a note. How to
manipulate the microphone for sound. How to convey the emotion and
story of the song when you were feeling the opposite. How to have
stamina to sing for hours without getting winded. How to get a
stadium of forty thousand women to drop their panties.

Aria stared at him.
“What are you thinking about, when you go off like that?” She
handed him a drink with the question.

Tyler sipped the icy
lemonade. Lemonade tasted a thousand times better in the south than
it did on the West Coast. The heat and the humidity contrasted with
the cool sweet. He couldn’t imagine anything tasting sweeter.

He eyed her mouth and
the skin of her neck. “You.”

Aria flushed. She
glanced at the Texas-shaped clock with a lizard crawling on top. It
was five-fifteen. “My parents don’t know you’re over.” She made a
girl motion with her hands. “Their schedule is pretty much, home by
five thirty, but I don’t like to push it.”

“I haven’t seen your
room yet.”

Her eyebrows flew up,
and her face flushed. “That’s not in the lesson plan.”

“Really?”

Her raised eyebrows
lowered into a frown. “Did you think it was?”

A lesson in her bed. “I
want to picture you there, when you text me later.” Tyler wrapped
both hands around the glass to keep them off her. His fingers
overlapped, and he moved over to the breakfast nook, taking one of
the three white wrought-iron seats. He sat on an orange-and-teal
cushion. The vivid colors were the opposite of his penthouse, which
was glossy black and minimal. He toyed with the lizard-shaped salt
shaker, glad the Steeles didn’t have this set. Who the hell wanted
to pour seasoning from a lizard snout onto their food?

“You’re not seeing my
room.” Aria followed him over, grinning, her face relaxed. “You
think I’m going to text you later?”

“You will.” Tyler
stretched out his legs, hooking an ankle behind hers.

Aria stiffened but
didn’t move. “I might.” She glanced at him. Then the clock. Then
him again. Then the clock again and pointed to the door. “You gotta
go.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow what?”

“Another lesson
tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

His favorite word.

Aria didn’t get Tyler.
This was the third day in a row they’d practiced. Tyler stayed
until just before her parents got home. He concentrated, and he
flirted. But he hadn’t asked her out. He seemed into her. But
still, not one offer of coffee. He’d carried her backpack, made
remarks on the business magazines she carried around. But no offer
of a movie. He’d stared at her mouth. But no attempt to kiss
her.

He was so unclear. Her
phone buzzed, and she read her text. Hunter.
Friday night. Me +
U.

Hunter was clear. But
she didn’t want Hunter.

Sorry, can’t,
she texted back.

Right, like band
geeks have so much going on.
Hunter’s text seemed more ticked
than teasing.
I was going to sacrifice my night to fix
that.

Well, looks like you
get a night off.
Being snippy made her feel guilty but she
wanted him to get the hint. And it wasn’t like she could say she
and Tyler were dating. He hadn’t asked her out.

“Who you texting?”
Tyler asked.

She shoved her phone in
her pocket. “No one. Doesn’t matter.”

“Tell him to stop
texting you.”

Aria blinked. Tyler
knew it was a guy, and it bothered him. “Why?”

Tyler didn’t
answer.

“Don’t worry about it.”
Aria indicated the bass. “Worry about those four strings.”

Tyler looked like he
wanted to argue, but he didn’t.

Tyler’s fingers trailed
over the strings, and he shifted the bass, listening for the
differences that a change in pressure made. They’d spent an hour on
the basic chords already. He picked up music fast. Really fast. So
fast, she almost doubted his statement that he’d never played
before. She got up to go get the snack she’d promised.

Tyler grabbed her
wrist, stopping her.

“I thought you wanted
another apple?” Apple made it sound healthy. Her mom sliced them up
and candied them in caramel. Yum.

“Later.” He pulled on
her wrist until she joined him on the carpet and he turned her so
her back was to his chest and she was between his legs. He put the
guitar in front of her and slid his arms around her waist. “Play
something for me.”

He was wrapped around
her and she wanted to turn around and lay against him. The
whispered words in her ear made her shiver. Mmm. Better than
caramel. She sat straighter and positioned the guitar, not able to
refuse the request. “Okay. This is amazing. Listen for the chord
progression.” She set her fingers and strummed the ballad
Don’t
Close Your Eyes.

Tyler drummed his
fingers against her shirt in a distracting, stroking pattern, one
similar in time and rhythm to the tune she played. A minute in, he
raised the hem of her shirt and slid his warm fingers
underneath.

Shock.

Her fingers skipped and
then she resumed.

He kept his fingertips
above the waistband of her jeans. He played out the pattern, this
time against her bare skin.

The sensation was
absorbing.

Totally
tingle-producing, feel-good fascinating.

Tyler slid one hand
free and placed it over the guitar. “More,” he said in a low murmur
and dropped a kiss on the side of her neck. The molasses sensation
spread downward.

Aria hadn’t realized
she’d stopped playing. She jerked back, her head landing on his
shoulder, her eyes closed. She should put a halt to what he was
doing. But it felt so good. So unbelievably delicious that she had
to finish the song so he’d keep playing, too. She strummed the
strings again and his fingers stroked her skin in the same slow
rhythm. High string. Downward stroke of his thumb. Low string.
Upward stroke of his pinkie. And when the ones in the middle moved,
it was as if her insides sparked to life. She shifted. Her lips
parted. Tyler made one long stroke. Ahhh. She laid the bass beside
their legs. This was no longer a game to her, and she had to see
his eyes, read his face.

She rolled up to her
knees and swiveled on the carpet to face him. Tyler cupped the
backs of her thighs, pulling her forward, sliding her up in a fast
easy move so she straddled his lap. She sucked in a breath,
everything stirring. She forgot what she wanted to say.

He slid his fingers up
from her thighs to her hips, settling her where he wanted her. He
leaned forward, tilted his head, and kissed her. He applied just
the right amount of pressure, sliding his lips over hers, once,
twice, until her mouth parted, almost involuntarily. She leaned
forward onto his chest, opening to him. Tyler kissed with
devastating strokes, knowing exactly what he was doing. All she
could do was cling to his muscled shoulders, kneading, finding no
give.

She wanted more of his
kisses and deeper tingles.

Tyler smoothed his
hands over her back. Up. Down. He reached the hem of her shirt. She
held her breath. He slipped both hands under the fabric. Electric
tingles followed as he traced upward. He moved slowly, as if
memorizing the feel of her.

Her shirt inched up
under his wrists. Cool air touched the skin of her stomach. He
traced his fingers to the back of her bra.

Oh. She broke away.
Flattening her hands on the couch cushion behind his head, she
pushed up to her feet, standing over him on shaky legs.

Tyler rubbed the backs
of her calves, his hands roamed up behind her knees, grazing the
sensitive skin there and then stroked back down, playing a tune
only he knew. Her knees shook, her eyelids lowered and she forced
herself to look at him.

His eyes glittered sage
green and his mouth looked reddened from the pressure of hers. She
rubbed her fingertips over her hot, swollen lips, catching the
remnant of sensation.

A flush rode high on
Tyler’s cheekbones, and he applied light pressure to the backs of
her knees. “Come back.”

Aria jerked away,
murmuring something incoherent about water, and left him there. In
the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator and moved closer to the
cold, counting to ten. Then she opened a bottle of water and
chugged some. Footsteps. Tyler. She closed the fridge door.