Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88218 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Each and every face contorts into confusion.
Cece asks, “Having supportive people is bad?”
“Not at all. But there’s a difference between telling people what to do and collaborating with your team. You need an amazing support system to survive in this industry, but when you only have yes people, that’s where the problem lies. I had no one to pull me aside and say, ‘Hey, I think this song is great, but it’s not right for this project.’ I didn’t have enough mainstream pop to carry the album. I was so focused on sounding completely different to Eleven that I overshot it, and none of the fans carried over. Music is a great creative outlet, but you need to find the right balance between what you want to put out there and what will sell. If you’re only in it for the music, you might be disappointed when sales are lackluster and your label drops you. You need to go into everything viewing it as a business. For every personal song, you need five mainstream ones.”
“That’s really good advice,” Reggie says. “Thank you.”
“Though, keep in mind, it’s annoying and frustrating when your team can’t see the vision you have, and there will be disagreements, but that’s a good thing sometimes.” I turn to Denver. “Remember how many fights we used to get into with Harley and Ryder over what they’d written for us to sing?”
Denver chuckles. “Epic yelling matches.”
“I’d choose fighting with Harley Valentine over being placated and finding out later from the masses that I suck any day of the week.”
Everyone laughs, but I realize something. I actually miss fighting with Harley Valentine.
I talk more with Denver’s contestants and then excuse myself after dinner. As I get to the sliding door, I look over my shoulder at Denver—a clear invitation for him to come to my room later—but he subtly shakes his head that he won’t be joining me again.
I want to make the argument that I have no doubt his contestants still want him, but he’s a big boy, and I’m sure he can handle them.
Just like last night, though, I can’t get comfortable because all I can think about is what’s happening inside that house and why I don’t like it so much. I try to get my thoughts together, but they’re all a jumbled mess.
And now, as he surprises me by sliding open the door and falling into bed next to me, my cock again hardens. He’s practically plastered himself against my side. I’m on my back, but my right arm is covered in his body heat.
“I thought you weren’t coming tonight,” I say.
“Changed my mind.”
I want to ask what changed it, but maybe I don’t want to know. I don’t want to hear him say someone made a pass at him. And how ridiculous is that?
When I should have been a jealous person with my fiancée, I wasn’t. Now, when I have no right to be …
“For what it’s worth,” Denver says, “regarding your solo album, if I had been on your new team, I would’ve been helpless too. I loved every single song.”
I turn my head. “You were one of the thirty thousand people who bought it?”
“Of course I bought it. I was practically in love with you.”
Wait, what? “Really? Love?” My voice cracks on the word. Two years ago, that word would’ve scared me, but I’ve had a lot of time to think about that kiss.
I’ve made excuses, dismissed it for an emotional weak moment on Denver’s part, but being in his house, being back here with him the way it used to be, my denial can’t be ignored any longer. I think I’ve had deeper feelings for him for a long time. I was just never in a position to acknowledge them until after he kissed me and fled my life like his ass was on fire.
“Mase, what do you think I meant when I said my feelings for you were confusing?”
“That you were attracted to me for a split second and it confused you for a while.” That’s what I’ve been telling myself for years.
Denver huffs and sits up, running a hand through his unstyled hair. Without the product in it, it’s longer than I thought. Still not the shaggy mop of hair he used to have, but I get a little glimpse of the old him sitting in front of me. “I told you that kiss didn’t come out of nowhere for me.”
“Come here.” I open my arms for him, and he only hesitates for a second or two before he comes willingly. I roll onto my side so we’re flush up against each other.
It’s not like we’ve never cuddled before, but this is definitely closer than it would’ve been back in the day. I have my right arm under his neck, while my left rests over him. My hands aren’t touching him even though I want them to. I want to run my hands over him like he did to me last night for the briefest of moments.