Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 556(@200wpm)___ 445(@250wpm)___ 371(@300wpm)
It feels so good.
So.
Fucking.
Good.
Best damn kiss I’ve ever had.
Then he pulls back, just an inch, enough for me to gasp for breath, for my mind and body to be brought back to reality. The sun is glaring above us but all I do is stare at Laz’s gorgeous face and marvel at what we just did.
“Uh,” I say, licking my lips that still buzz from the pressure of his. “That…”
He clears his throat, his eyes dancing in a mix of amazement and lust. “I have to say you, uh, definitely don’t need any pointers on how to kiss.”
“Yeah,” I say breathless. “Neither do you.”
Oh my god. It’s hitting me slowly now. Laz just kissed me. We were just hardcore making out. That wasn’t just a first kiss, that wasn’t just a joke.
It couldn’t have been.
Could it?
I’m watching his expression, not sure what to say. I should play it off because that’s what this is, what this always has been.
“Well, I’m glad I passed your test,” I tell him. I smile but it’s shaking and I’m wide-eyed and I probably look a little nuts. “You still should have consulted the 8 Ball before.”
“I did,” he says with an easy grin, running his thumb over my lip. I have to fight the urge to kiss it. What has he done to me? “Right before I walked in through that gate.”
“And what did it say?”
“It said WIN,” he says. “And it was fucking right about that.”
That’s cute. I know the right thing to do would be for the both of us to get to our feet and carry-on with ourselves like we usually do but god, if he wants to kiss me again, I will not stop him. I don’t care if we’re lying out here under the sun, I don’t care that—
“Marina!”
A shrill voice rings through the air and I flinch. I crane my neck back and look at the main house where I can see the shadow of Barbara’s face inside by one of the open windows. “Do you need me to call the police?” she yells.
“Oh, that’s just brilliant,” Laz says, quickly getting himself off me and pulling me up to my feet. So much for that.
“No!” I yell back at Barbara. “It’s just my friend Laz. He was helping me out of my suit.”
“I bet he was,” Barbara says and then the blinds come back down.
“Sorry about her,” I say as I turn back to face Laz who is unzipping his suit.
His face is flushed, his hair a mess. There’s too much distance between us now and it feels cold and unnatural. Everything that just happened before, his body pressed against mine, our mouths joined, the heat we created, that felt right. That felt more than right. That’s the us that should have always been.
“I should probably get going,” he says, stepping out of the suit and handing it to me.
“What? Why?”
Oh my god, did that ruin everything? That ruined everything didn’t it?
“Don’t look so worried,” he says to me, smiling. He reaches down and grabs my free hand. “I promised Frank we’d have a rehearsal tonight and you know he’s all the way out in Long Beach.”
“Why do you need to rehearse? New songs?” I feel better knowing that he’s not bailing on account of me, but still, I don’t want him to take off after we just had our first kiss, especially when I don’t know what it means, if it meant anything.
“Well, the show you missed the other night was a bit of a shitshow, so yeah, I think we just need to get some more practice and get a new keyboardist. A lot of the songs we always should have been doing, the songs we skip, are keyboard and Moog heavy, so we need someone who knows their shit if we’re going that route. People want to dance these days.” He punctuates that with a shrug.
“So when are you going to actually start a real band?” I ask him.
He stills at that, his dark, arched brows coming together. “A real band?”
“It’s been years of you doing Depeche Mode songs. You’re an amazing singer, you can play anything you want, and you know that your poetry would do amazing as lyrics. I mean, what’s the difference really. So why not do your own thing?”
He’s still looking at me like I’m talking complete nonsense. Maybe I am. I don’t know much about music other than the fact that it’s an important part of my life.
“Because,” he says slowly, still holding onto my hand, “this is what we know. This is what we’re known for. There’s no risk. Other than the occasional shitty show, we can’t really fail. There aren’t a lot of Depeche Mode cover bands out there because no one can pull it off like we can.”