Strum Your Heart Out (3 page)

I turn my attention to my finance homework, but the uneasy feeling in my gut remains.

***

A knock on my bedroom door cuts through the music.

"Kara," Nadeen says. "Your boyfriend is here."

"I don't have a boyfriend," I yell back to her.

"Then what is he doing here?"

I push out of my chair and open the door. Nadeen is staring at me with an irritated look on her face. Almost like I'm the one trying to kick her out of her apartment.

I follow her into the main room.

Drew is here.

A lightness returns to my body.

"So, you know," Nadeen says. "You could ask him about moving in."

"He's not my boyfriend!"

Drew shoots me that
are you okay
look. I motion to my room. I'm not discussing anything in front of her.

He pushes past Nadeen like she isn't even there. "Come on." He grabs my hand, pulls me into the bedroom, and presses the door shut behind us.

"What's with her?" he asks.

I shrug like I don't know.

"You're so full of shit."

"Some people would consider that allegation rude," I say.

"Lucky for me you're not some people." He takes a few steps toward me. "You want to tell me why you're upset?"

"I'm not."

His eyes narrow. Not angry. Just serious. "You keep bullshitting me and I'll be the one who is upset."

"Good for you." On my computer, I pull up a PowerPoint presentation. It's Thursday's finance lecture.

I'm turned away from Drew, but I can feel him staring at me. His gaze is penetrating. It exposes something in me. Something I'd rather keep hidden.

I keep my eyes on the screen, like this is no big deal. "How can you care so much about other people minding their own business and be so willing to get in my business?"

"That's different."

"How?"

"I care about you. The guys are just creating gossip."

"They care about you too." Deep breath. My body is trying to react to this whole
I care about you
thing. It overreacts.

"It's not the same."

Okay. Body going into overdrive. My heart beat picks up. My mouth goes sticky. Does Drew even realize what he's doing to me? He must not. If he does, he's pure evil.

"I'm going to start guessing," he says.

"Okay. Fine. I'm going to keep studying. I have a test tomorrow."

"The second week of classes?" His voice is packed with doubt.

"It's a quiz. Does that settle things?"

"No." He takes another step toward me. "Something with Meg?"

"No." I drop my hands into my lap. "I'm not talking about it."

"Did you eat dinner?"

"I'm not hungry."

"It's almost eight. Don't make me drag you."

"You can't drag me. I'm too heavy."

He laughs. "You want to bet?"

My cheeks flush. Thank God he can't see them. I clear my throat. "No."

"You asked for this, Kendrick."

That flutter in my belly goes turbo. I'm melting over him calling me by my last name. I'm hopeless.

He leans over. His arms slide around my back. One slides all the way under my ass. It hooks around my thigh. I can feel the heat of his touch, even through my jeans.

His hand is so, so close.

Too close.

He lifts me from the chair with barely a grunt. He holds me against his chest like I'm a damsel in distress. There's no sign of tension on his face. He's not even strained.

Drew's lips curl into a smile and he tosses me on the bed. I land with the tiniest impact. He flops next to me. Right next to me.

"I bet you're still ticklish," he says.

Okay. Blush in full effect. Drew is trying to kill me. There is no other possible explanation.

I shake my head.

His smile widens. "You have two choices: tell me or suffer."

I shake my head again.

His eyes pass over my body. His hands hover over my stomach. Closer. Closer. Closer.

He tickles me. Oh God. Laughter rises from my belly to my throat. I kick my legs to contain the sensation. He was right. I am still ticklish. I'm unbearably ticklish.

Drew slides his hand under the edge of my top so it's on the skin of my stomach. I can't do anything to contain the sensation. I kick and thrash and laugh until I can't take it anymore.

"Okay, okay. Mercy."

He doesn't relent. "Not until you admit you were upset."

"Okay, okay. I was upset."

He only tickles me harder. "And you admit why."

"Oh, God, stop."

I'm laughing so hard my stomach is aching and my cheeks are sore. I kick at his legs. I claw at his arms. He grabs one of my hands and pushes it over my head.

"Okay!" I scream. "It's Nadeen." A laugh escapes my throat. "She asked me to move out."

Everything in Drew's mood shifts. The happiness drains from his face. He's not having fun anymore. "Asked?"

I swallow hard. "I'll be okay. I'll find another place to live. It's not like Nadeen is a particularly good roommate." I shift toward the other edge of the bed. "I just have to find the time between class and my internship."

"Fuck that." He grabs my shoulder and turns me so we're face to face. "You're moving in with me."

"I can't."

"Why the hell not?" He doesn't wait for a response. "I'm getting a new place. You need a new place. It's perfect."

I play with the pockets of my jeans. "I don't want to impose."

"You don't."

"But you're so set to live alone."

He shifts toward me. His hand brushes against mine. "I'm set to live with someone who will respect my privacy." His eyes find mine. "I have absolute faith in you."

"Are you staying in LA that long?"

He nods. "It's home base now." His mood lightens. "It's a sweet deal. I'm on tour half the year but I pay my share of the rent every month. Place will be yours for three and a half months starting in April."

I nod. It would be a sweet deal with anyone but Drew.

Drew's hand closes around my right wrist. He looks me in the eyes. "Give me one good reason why not?"

How about the feeling coursing through my body, begging me to get back on that bed with him?

Drew doesn't see me that way. He's never going to see me that way. Being around him constantly...

It will drive me out of my damn mind.

"I have many reasons," I say.

He holds my stare. "So name one."

That's a bit more difficult.

Drew holds out his hand to shake. "We'll pick out a place together. Deal?"

Deal? I can't make a deal like this. Not if I want to live to graduate from college. Not if I want to keep breathing and sleeping and thinking.

I take a step backward. "Let me sleep on it."

"If you come to dinner with me."

"I have to study."

He slides his hand around my waist. "I'll throw you over my shoulder if I have to."

This time, I'm not challenging him.

I nod, and follow him to the car.

Truth is, I want to go to dinner with Drew. I want to live with Drew. I want everything with Drew. I’ve liked him since the day his family moved in to the house down the block and he invited me over to watch Batman cartoons.

I liked him until high school bullshit pushed us apart. He went off and became a guitar God. When I saw him on MTV, I was sure I’d never hear from him again. Why would a rock star get back in touch with his middle school best friend?

But he did. Last year, he called out of nowhere, and we fell right back into the same easy, intimate friendship. He’s not a narcissistic fame whore. He’s the same over-protective guy who sees through me and makes me feel safe.

Yes, I want him more than I want to breathe.

But it’s not worth risking our friendship. Sex will ruin things. It’s better to be around him, even if he’ll never be mine.

Drew is the most important person in my life.

I can't screw that up.

CHAPTER FOUR

I wake up to texts from Drew. The cross streets of a potential apartment and three low-resolution shots of it. He's so sure he'll get his way.

The place looks decent. I can see myself there. I can see us there, on a plush leather couch, watching one of Drew's favorite
Batman
movies. And I can feel the flutter building in my stomach as his hand skims my thigh. An accident. Means nothing. 'Cause we're only friends and we'll always be only friends.

I shove my phone into my backpack and promise myself I'll deal with this after class.

On my way out the door, I check the mailbox. No sign of my acceptance or rejection letter from the UCLA teaching program, but it's not due for another week.

My Finance 301 class is dull. My attention drifts to the browser open on my laptop. I can browse apartment listings and take notes at the same time.

That checks out.

There are about fifty rooms for rent in my neighborhood. Narrowing my price range knocks me down to a dozen options. Over half the available rooms come with a cat or dog. Those are out—I'm allergic to just about any animal with fur or feathers. Down to four. All of them use the words "open-minded roommate required" in the posting.

No way in hell that's happening.

Drew is my best option. Living with him is possible. So I'm attracted to him, so what? He's hotter than the molten center of the Earth. Of course my body reacts to his. And to his words and his voice and the way his cheeks crinkle when he smiles.

It's such a nice smile.

Okay. It’s more than a crush. I’m fucking crazy about him. But I can't let that get in the way of a perfectly good living arrangement. Not when it's my best option.

I give myself until eleven p.m. to come up with another idea, but there isn't one. I'm going to live with Drew and I'm going to survive it.

I take a deep breath as I tap my reply.

Kara: Okay. Let's do it. Let's pick out an apartment together.

One minute later, my phone rings. Drew.

I pick up. "Why can't you text like a normal person?"

"You can't gloat in a text." His voice is cocky. "I'm glad you saw the light."

"It's not too late to change my mind."

"You won't."

"Goodnight, Drew."

His voice softens. "Sweet dreams."

I turn off my phone. This crush isn’t going to kill me.

In theory.

***

Tuesday night, I go straight from my internship to the first potential apartment. Drew is leaning against the wall, picture perfect effortless rock star. His short, black hair is messy. His t-shirt hangs off his shoulders just so. Once again, it's cut just low enough to show a hint of ink.

What would it feel like to trace the lines of that tattoo?

Not that I want to touch him like that.

Not that I'm going insane thinking about touching him like that.

Not at all.

My blouse tugs against my chest. The top button threatens to come undone. I'm not sure what possessed me to buy a blouse with buttons. They never get along with my boobs.

I adjust the shoulders so the blouse rides a little higher, but that only sends the strain to the next button down.

We hug hello. His eyes pass over me. It's a quick thing, like he's taking in my outfit.

"I can't believe I've never seen you in professional mode," he says.

"One of us needs to class up the place."

Drew nods to the apartment. I follow him up the stone staircase, to the second floor. Drew checks his phone and punches a code into a keybox. Success. He grabs a key and slides it into the lock.

He pushes the door open for me. "After you."

The room is nice but small. Beige carpet. Tiny rectangular windows. Cramped little kitchen.

Drew's hand brushes against my lower back. He nods to the one bedroom at the end of the tiny hallway.

"It's not bad," I say.

"It's a dump." He steps inside the bedroom. "But useful for comparisons."

"You're playing loose and fast with 'dump' for someone who lives on a tour bus."

"That bus is a dump," he says. "It's just for the road. We stay in hotels most nights."

"You're so fancy."

It
is
a small room. More carpet. Another rectangular window. A mirrored closet door.

He positions himself in front of the mirror and stares at his reflection. "I don't see it." He reaches for me and pulls me next to him, so we're both in the reflection. "I still don't see it."

He's too close. It feels too good.

I take a step back. "It's a little small."

He pulls his phone from his pocket and checks the time. "We're meeting another landlord in twenty minutes. Bigger place. Closer to UCLA."

It sounds perfect, but there's apprehension on his face.

"What's the problem?" I ask.

"Let's make a deal. You pay the same rent you were paying at your old place. I pay the rest."

"No way in hell. I'm paying half."

"Twice the rent you're paying gets you someplace like this." He nods to the peeling paint in the corner.

"You're not paying for me."

"Not for you. Just more than fifty percent. Consider it a fee for getting to make the final decision."

I throw him my best side-eye.

He cocks his eyebrow and folds his arms over his chest. "Kara."

"Yeah?"

"Your top button is undone." He smirks.

I look at my blouse. Dammit. He's right. I fix the button but it won't stay done.

Drew laughs. "I like it better that way."

I will not blush. I will not blush. Dammit, I will not blush! I clear my throat. "How much more than fifty percent are we talking?"

"It's not a lot of money to me." He takes a step toward me and brushes a stray hair behind my ear. "You'd be doing me a favor."

"You're so full of shit."

He grabs my wrist and moves toward the exit. "I'm going to get my way."

"You always do."

***

No way in hell.

This is not an apartment for a college student. The penthouse of a luxury condo is more appropriate for a movie star than a finance and literature double major.

This place must be two thousand square feet. Every wall is glass. The kitchen is stainless steel with quartz countertops. The balcony stretches on forever.