Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 121916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121916 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
My charcuterie board assembled, I carry it into the living room, doing my best not to hobble like a woman who’s been fucked, expertly and often, over the past week. I’ve never had so much sex in my life, let alone sex that curled my toes so violently, they might actually be permanently deformed at this point. It’s been worth it, of course. This is the best soreness of my existence, but my band doesn’t need to know about that. Not when Kendrick and I have agreed that everything will go back to normal after our secret fling has run its course.
“Big ups to Savage for making it,” Titus says, as I place my tray onto the coffee table and sit next to my brother. “The rest of us have had time to decompress from tour by now. I can’t imagine how exhausted you must feel after shooting the show every day this week.”
That’s how it goes with the shooting schedule. For the judges, anyway. The first week or so involves long days that capture all the fan-favorite audition episodes, followed by the Draft Day and Guest Mentor episodes that will be shooting tomorrow.
“It was in my best interest to get out of the house today,” Savage says with a chuckle. “When I left, Laila was sitting at her baby grand, obsessively writing a song like a madwoman. If I’d stuck around, I’d be dead by now for breathing or eating too loudly.”
We all crack up. At one time or another, we’ve all been Laila—a songwriter in the zone who doesn’t tolerate distractions.
“That’s best part of being married to another songwriter,” Savage muses. “We both understand the madness.” He grins wistfully. “I can’t even imagine trying to do life with someone who doesn’t get what it feels like to create amazing art out of nothing.”
The rest of us share a smile and encouraging comments about our friend’s happy life. Savage has undergone an unbelievable transformation over the past few years, and we couldn’t be happier for him.
In the midst of the back and forth, Kendrick’s eyes meet mine. I flash him a secret little smile, and he returns the gesture, followed by a smolder that makes me blush and start pulsing between my legs.
I look away, not wanting our bandmates to notice him eyeball-fucking me. They still think that kiss at Reed’s party was a performance for the hidden cameras we knew about, since that’s what I told them in the group chat. A conscious decision to get ourselves the bonuses up for grabs. I’m determined to let them keep thinking that way.
God help me, when this fling ends, the last thing I need is for any of these people to know what we did. Titus, especially, can never know. Not because he’d be mad at either of us. Titus loves Kendrick like a brother, and I’m an adult with ownership of my own body, thank you very much. But because, honestly, I’ve always had a feeling Titus wishes Kendrick and I would get together one day, and I don’t want to deal with his disappointment, on top of mine, when that doesn’t happen.
“Wow, Ruby,” Titus says, perusing the lavish offerings on my board of snacks. “This is the fanciest thing I’ve ever seen you make. What’s gotten into you?”
I’m not offended. Everyone in the band, including my brother, knows I can’t cook for shit. “Kendrick’s kitchen is so pretty, it inspired me to become the next Martha Stewart.”
Titus scoffs. “This is cool, but I’m pretty sure Martha Stewart makes stuff that’s more complicated than a bunch of snacks on a tray.”
“Actually,” Kendrick says, “I’m pretty sure Martha Stewart is the one who invented charcuterie boards.”
“See?” I say to my brother. “Don’t yuck my yum, dude.”
“I wasn’t. I just meant—”
“Don’t bother. I just moved you one space higher on my kill list.” I turn to Kendrick. “Thank you for defending my honor, KC. Just for that, I’m going to make you a sandwich worthy of Martha Stewart tomorrow.”
“Awesome. You know how much I love me a big, fat Ruby Deluxe.”
“How much longer are you staying here?” Titus asks me. “I could have sworn you were supposed to be back in your place by now.”
“I was, but unforeseen problems keep popping up. Yesterday, my building manager texted me with yet another delay.”
Out the corner of my eye, Savage shoots Kendrick a smile—one I’m interpreting as a show of sympathy for me being here far longer than originally planned.
“I offered to go to a hotel,” I say to Savage. “But Kendrick won’t hear of it.”
“I like having you here,” Kendrick says. “I’m having fun.”
Blushing, I address the group. “It’s felt like old times.”
As everyone else says, yes, they remember that era, Kai asks with a snicker, “Did Kendrick swallow your face back then, too?” He’s referring to the kiss from Reed’s party, since the show recently released clips of it as part of their marketing blitz. Our group chat has been rife with clips and teasing about it over the past couple of days.