Chelsea

It’s a date, his text back says, and I can’t help the smile that creeps up. I didn’t really know what to expect before meeting with Ian today. I knew his reputation and I knew the kind of guy I thought he was, but the real Ian surprised me.

Not only is he incredibly talented, but he’s down-to-earth. He’s goofy in a way that makes my heart flutter, and he looks at me with this intensity that makes me feel like he’s seeing all of me.

Yeah, his line about x-ray eyes didn’t feel that far off the mark at all. I still can’t believe I agreed to do the song with that subject matter. It’s like I want to torture myself with something I can’t—and shouldn’t—have.

But I had fun with him, and that was way more than I was expecting, so I’m in a pretty damn good mood as I leave the studio, Rosa close on my heels.

“I shouldn’t have to hunt you down to make sure you adhere to your schedule, Chelsea,” she says sharply.

My jaw and shoulders tighten at the same time. She may be my manager, but I think sometimes Rosa forgets that she works for me, not the other way around.

“I lost track of time,” I say, not wanting to start a big thing right now and kill the good mood Ian left me with.

“Yeah, I saw how hard you were working,” she says bitterly.

I stop and whirl to face her in the middle of the parking lot, not even caring if there’s anyone else around to see it. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

Rosa seems surprised by my anger and backtracks a step, looking less angry and more concerned. “It means that I don’t want you to forget what a bad influence Ian Monroe can be.”

“Have you forgotten that you’re the one that wanted me to work with him?” I say, my voice nearly a shriek. I’m getting too defensive and Rosa can tell. I take a deep breath, trying to get rid of the angry shakes rumbling through me.

“It’s a good opportunity for you to cross genres,” she says. “But we’ve worked too hard to cultivate your good-girl image. The last thing we need is for some bad boy to come along and ruin it all.”

“I didn’t cultivate anything. I am a good girl. And you know that, so why don’t you do you job and let me do mine?”

I can tell she’s taken aback, and she shakes her head. “Just be careful, will you?”

I sigh. I know she’s only looking out for what’s best for my career. “Yeah, I’ll be careful.”

“Good. I’ll see you at the studio tomorrow.”

I climb into my car without another word, turning up the radio as loud as it will go as I pull out of the parking lot and onto the highway.

I know what I’m doing with Ian. I know not to let him get too close.

It’s a date, his text plays back in my mind, sending a fresh little thrill through me. I imagine his smoky voice saying the words and shiver.

Okay, so maybe I am a little out of my depth with Ian, but is that such a bad thing? He’s not what I expected at all. He certainly didn’t seem like a guy fiending for his next hit. And the idea that he could ruin me… Well…

That thought sends tingles between my thighs and I clamp my legs together against the onslaught. Being ruined by Ian didn’t sound half as bad as it should. Watching him play did things to me that no one’s done since Jamie. And really, that comparison is an insult to Ian. Jamie was just a teenage infatuation. He never made me laugh the way Ian did today. He never made my whole body twang with the need for his touch. He never turned me on like this just with a heated look.

Ian’s on a whole other level, and it’s one I’m not really sure how to navigate.

Obviously, I want him.

Obviously.

But obviously, he’s trouble. So much trouble. Like Rosa said, I need to be careful.

We could be discreet. We’re supposed to be spending time together for this album, for writing songs and recording and planning for the tour. There’s plenty of opportunity for us to be alone. We even both have home studios. There’s unending excuses for why we’d be alone together at all hours of the night…

But then I remind myself why Ian is such a bad idea. He’s an addict. Recovering, maybe, but an addict all the same. Like someone treading water in open ocean—if I try to swim out to him, he’s just going to drag me down with him. Eric nearly destroyed me and my career with his addiction. He nearly brought down everything I’ve worked for since I was fourteen. And then he died.

If he had nearly broken me before with his struggles, his death absolutely shattered me. That’s why I haven’t had a new album in over two years. That’s why I haven’t done any performances other than the odd Wish Givers show. That’s why I’ve been out of the limelight and off the charts—because I just couldn’t.

My music is what ended up killing Eric. As much as I love it, I’ve been angry at it all this time. But Ian’s changing that. He’s making me remember how fun music can be. He’s making me remember how good it can feel when it doesn’t constantly fill you with agonizing guilt.

But he’s also a constant reminder of all of that. Of Eric, of his addition, of his failure to overcome it. I see that same haunted look in Ian’s eyes that I remember in Eric’s. That look of someone who’s lost and hasn’t quite found their way yet. Maybe I’m projecting on him. Maybe I’m seeing things that aren’t really there, but I can’t be the one to help Ian find his way. I have my own way to find. I can’t be dragged down by another person’s problems, no matter how sexy and charming that person may be.

So, I’ll work with him, yes. I’ll even have fun with him and be friendly—after all being a bitch all the time isn’t easy since it’s not really my style. He doesn’t deserve the attitude I gave him this morning. Maybe we can even be friends. Once I let my walls down a little, I really did have a blast with him.

So friends. I can be friends with him. But nothing more. No late-night trips to his studio, no inviting him over to my place, no dinner dates, or fantasies of kissing him. Just friends. That I can do.

Maybe.