Chapter Four
It feels great to be back in California, rolling down the streets of home with Avery at my side, us alone in a car again. On tour it’s so fucking hard to find time alone with her and while I’m aware it’s probably better that way, I’ll be damned if I’m not going to enjoy having it now.
A man can dream…OK. Not accurate. Guys don’t dream, they fantasize, but the thoughts in my head won’t get me into trouble unless I stop fighting my want to put them into action.
“What are you working on?” I ask.
Her fingers still above the screen and she looks up from her phone, a quirky lift to one brow. “What makes you think it’s work? I do have a life, Ethan.”
“Ah, because you’re the Roaming Redhead 24/7. Even going to dinner with your favorite guy.” The Roaming Redhead is the name of her most popular blog. Every detail of her life lands there. It’s part of what makes it addictive, how open and honest she is about everything.
“Presumptuous, aren’t you? I never said you were my favorite guy, only I’m your number one fan.”
“But I am. I know I am. These things guys can tell.”
Her cheeks pink just enough to make me wonder if my taunt could be true and a lot of other things that aren’t doing me any good right now. While I enjoy flirting with her, it’s better for us both if I knock it off.
I shift my gaze back to the road. “Seriously, what kind of post can you create from bumper-to-bumper traffic in LA?”
Both brows are lifted now. “You’ll have to read it if you want to know.”
“Anything good? Is it about moi?” I can’t resist teasing further.
“Not today, and I’m always good.” The way good fades on her husky voice makes me wonder exactly how good. Not that I need encouragement to wonder that. My gut tells me she’s as incredible in bed as she is out of it.
I can feel her studying me and it makes it damn hard to concentrate on the road. Crap, I nearly missed my turn. I ease on the brakes and flip on my signal.
“Why do you look like a cat that just ate the canary when you drive a car? You’re the first guy I’ve ever known who gets this dopey happy every time he drives a car.”
Dopey happy? Is that how I look? Not loving that observation. “Why do you assume my dopey happy—and thank you very little for that one—has anything to do with driving a car?”
“Ah, because it does. You’re exactly like this every time we drive somewhere.”
I don’t like that observation either because it tells me what I feel for her is getting obvious. Though I should be relieved she credits it to driving and leave it alone.
I shrug. “I just like doing normal, everyday things. Hardly anything in my life has ever qualified for the term normal.”
She laughs. “You’re joking, right? You’re so normal it’s scary. You’re about the most normal person I know.”
I mull over that comment and wonder how she came up with it since Avery knows the unabridged 411 of my life. Even with the rose-filtered sultry browns she sees people and the world with, that claim doesn’t pass the truth in blogging test.
I spent most of my younger years traveling these roads in a fully armored SUV with two bodyguards every time I left our house. Try being the kid who rolls up at school with a hulk packing a gun to walk him into the classroom. On tour, it’s no better. Buses, private planes, limos, and security.
My entire life people were kept from me, and others decided who got near. Rarely the ones I wanted. And on tours usually the kind of girls I don’t.
My life, from the age of six, has existed in a security bubble. Not because our band is that level of famous, but because our parents are and my father’s a billionaire. No shit, an honest to God billionaire. But there are limits forced on a kid from parents with that kind of fame and wealth.
Freedom, for one. It’s damn near impossible to live your life the way you want to when you’ve gotta be worried 24/7 that there are people out that who may want to harm you, and others—namely the press—who want to hurt your family.
Maybe that’s why days like this feel like the next best thing other than sex. Being home. Riding streets I know. No one in the car with me but my girl. Stopping to have dinner somewhere, just Avery across the table from me, and my mind visualizing all the things I would do with her after if I could—
I put the brakes hard on that thought.
Time for a reality check, Ethan. There’s nothing normal about your life or your relationship with Avery. Even that’s been propelled into the land of not normal because of who you are, and I’ve got to keep it strictly friends and professional. Wanting to pin her knees up around her ears and make her scream my name doesn’t mean it’s ever going to happen. Or that it should.
I’m confident that it shouldn’t.
I’m even more confident that it won’t.
Her reaction to my kissing her was confirmation Avery doesn’t think of me the way I think of her. No, she’s not interested in getting anything going with me. She made that crystal clear.
That thought and that she’s back typing on her cell are more than a little disappointing.
“Do you hang on the phone when you’re out with other guys?” Fuck, what made me say that? Out with other guys? It makes it sound like I’m thinking of this as a date or some such shit. That’s not what this is. And worse, I sounded annoyed.
Her face snaps up. “No.” She gives me her impish smile. “They’re not as interesting as you. Nothing to write about.”
That causes me to frown. “Hey, you’re not really blogging, are you?”
Surprise rises in her eyes. “What do you think?”
“Working. Like always. And don’t bite my head off. I’m cool with it if you are.”
Which is only partially true, because it’s better than thinking she’s sitting beside me texting another guy.
* * *
“Avery”
Avery: A lot of good your advice did me. Try flirting with him more. That was just brilliant. Next time I ask about a guy, ignore me.
Emmy: Don’t blame me. I’m your sister not a miracle worker. What happened?
Avery: Whole lot of nothing.
Emmy: Did you put out the signal that you want him to make a move?
Avery: Yes!!!! Yes!!!
Emmy: What are you wearing?
Avery: What does that matter?
Emmy: Because it does? Guys are slow. You’ve gotta dress like a girl if you want him to see you as a girl.
Avery: I’m going to forget you ever said that. I refuse to believe I have a sister committed to sexist gender stereotypes. All relationships aren’t built on the quality of a woman’s rack.
Emmy: You’ve got nice tits. Show them. You’ve tried everything else. File your feminist card for a day. I say play the big cards. Hooters and legs. You’ve got plenty of both. Show them once in a while.
Avery: Second thing I’m forgetting you said. Besides, E’s not like that.
Emmy: ***seriously rolling my eyes at you*** hello!!! All guys are like that.
Avery: Daddy and Sky aren’t. E isn’t either. I’ve watched him on tour with the road whores. Doesn’t like the tits in your face kind of approach.
Emmy: Considering throwing phone. Dad and Sky are gay. All straight guys on the planet like the tits in the face approach. And did you actually type whore? Or did someone do it for you? A bit into sexiest gender stereotypes today, sis?
Avery: Seriously frustrated. Don’t pick on me. It’s making me irrational. It’s been like the longest buildup to sex ever. All foreplay, no fireworks. You’d get crazy, too.
Emmy: Have you considered—saying this out of love so don’t be a hater—maybe he’s not into you?
Avery: No. He is. I know he is. Some things a girl can’t miss.
Emmy: Oh no.
Avery: What??!!!???
Emmy: Every time a girl says something like that, they’re wrong. Every time. 100% always. If he was into you it would have happened already.
Avery: I’m not wrong.
Emmy: Remember that movie we watched. He’s Just Not That Into You. You’re Gigi. I was kidding when I told you back then. Now not so sure.
Avery: Say that again and I won’t ever talk to you again. NOT TRUE…I know what I want and FYI, I’m nothing like Ginnifer Goodwin.
Emmy: E-delusion syndrome has turned my smart, level-headed, won’t live my life for a guy sister into a Gigi. It’s been six years.
Avery: Thank you for pointing out the obvious. NOT.
Emmy: But it has. Maybe you’ve made yourself too available. That can happen. That’s what happened to Gigi in the movie. Some guys are into that ego rub. They get off on a girl hanging on, hoping they’ll toss them a bone. They keep it going because they like the rub.
Avery: Bone? Rub?
Emmy: No pun intended. You need to move on if he doesn’t make a move.
Avery: I date other guys.
Emmy: You dump them after a few dates and you never say no when E wants to do something with you.
Avery: Hanging with him is part of my job. How I get content for my blog.
Emmy: That’s a load of crap.
Avery: Not.
Emmy: Where are you now? Who are you with? What are you doing?
Emmy: Exactly as I thought. You need to let it go and move on. Find a guy who wants my terrific baby sister.
Avery: Shouldn’t the focus be who I want?
Emmy: Not when it’s never going to happen. And it’s not. He isn’t the sort of guy who’s going to make what you want happen. I’m relieved he hasn’t tried to hit on you. Don’t want you hurt. That’s what’s going to happen.
Avery: Saying this out of love so don’t be a hater. You can be such a bitch sometimes. Not all of us rock relationships and have perfect happy endings. For some of us we’ve got to work at it.
Emmy: ;-( Not a bitch and not being a hater. You deserve the best guy ever. Not to sit around waiting for some guy who can’t see how wonderful you are.
Avery: Sorry…
Emmy: You staying with me while you’re in LA? How long you going to be home for? Or are you going out on the road again?
Avery: Don’t know how long I’m sticking around, and staying with you only if I don’t get something better going.
Emmy: See you tonight, sis.