“You're
asking me how I would react to the end of a relationship that’s never
happened,” Riley pointed out. “Right now, I can say tears. But maybe we don’t
prove compatible. Maybe down the line, after we gave it a go and had it failed,
I’d feel relief. Maybe we’d have a conversation and realize we’re better as
friends and bandmates, who knows. That’s my point. We can’t make decisions
today based off the what ifs of the future.”
Riley’s
words made sense, but it was like asking him to choose between music and
romance.
“You
don’t think you can have both, do you?”
Started,
Dez’s jaw dropped, cause he was god damned sure he hadn’t said that out loud.
“I
can see it written all over your face. You want to want me, but you don’t think
you can have the band and me in the capacities you want us in.”
“Yeah,
so…”
“What
if we were to try a trail run?”
“A
free for thirty-day type of thing with the option to subscribe if completely
satisfied?” Dez quipped, stepping up until he was almost chest to chest with
Riley. “What happens if I’m unsatisfied?”
“Then
we never speak of it again.” Riley said. “But if we’re both satisfied, then we
keep making amazing music and we keep seeing where we can take things between
us. Either we’ll burn out, or we’ll fuel one another to new heights.”
“I’ll
consider it under one condition.”
“What’s
that?”
“No
matter what, we stay friends, and we don’t air any dirty laundry to the rest of
the guys. We don’t need to drag them into any bullshit that might arise, and we
don’t need to put them in a position where they feel like they have to take
sides.” Dez replied.
“Fair
enough, I’d rather not have them witness my humiliation when you kick me to the
curb, either, so, if we’re together, we keep it private, if we split we keep it
private, and when we’re practicing or live, we’re professionals with nothing
else between us but the music.”
“Basically,
we’ll be keeping it on the down low.”
“On
the way down low,” Riley emphasized.
“I
can work with that, with one more stipulation.”
“Starting
to feel like I’m playing poker with the devil over here.”
Smirking,
Dez watched Riley squirm, “Not yet you’re not.”
“Is
that a threat, or a promise?”
“Ask
me again after Rocktoberfest, when I’m flying high off the crowd, adrenalin and
the echo of my guitar.”
“Bet.”
Riley fidgeted a moment, then looked up at him with a hesitant mix of
trepidation and hope. “Any way I can get a sample of things to come?”
Licking
his lips, Dez eyed the sultry, downturned mouth and leaned in, brushing the
barest hint of a kiss over Riley’s lips. It took all his control not to deepen
it and claim Riley the way he’d been dreaming of, and judging from the way
Riley pressed forward, desperate, needy sound emanating from him, he was
thinking the same too.
“Prove
I’m not making the biggest fucking mistake imaginable, and you can have all the
samples you want,” Dez rumbled.
Riley
sucked in a breath before nodding and letting his eyes drift closed, trying to
reign himself in, which was exactly why Dez leaned in and gave him one more
soft kiss, hoping to convey the promise of more. When Riley’s eyes shot open
Dez could see it, the smoldering fire of lust and longing burning there.
“Just
to be clear,” Dez murmured. “I want you. Pretty sure I did from the moment you
asked if I’d showed up to that audition simply to blow you all off in the end.”
And
with that, Dez turned and headed back to the van, knowing that if he didn’t,
he’d have pinned Riley to that tree and made out with him until it was time to
go to the show.
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