Logic wasn't the best for quelling my frustration. I needed to talk to someone.
“You fight me...” Drezen sang, tormenting me. “And I can't keep my feet beneath.”
Vigorously I scrubbed my cheeks. Two can play this game. My guitar case thunked, clasps snapping open from my quick fingers. I spent the barest time tuning, one ear aware of the next song Drezden began.
“Sticky sweetness,” he crooned. My pulse jolted, the stiff pick between my fingers tickling my strings. Behind the cloak of my strums, I heard his silence, his falter.
He hadn't expected me to reply like this.
My grin hurt my cheeks.
“Burning fast.” He was louder; stronger. Had he moved closer to my wall? “My love, my dear, this will be your last...” Standing smoothly, I didn't miss a note while I walked towards the painted barrier.
With everything and nothing between us, Drezden and I played together. We were perfection. Without needing to see, we sensed the tempo and followed the scent. He led me, but I left the trail for our return. As we sped up, my heart did, too.
There was an echo in his lyrics; like his cheek was pressed on the hotel's surface. “If I take you from the grave, you'll be mine.”
Clenching my molars, the tremble boiled through my cells. Before, he'd been singing for himself. A shift had happened.
He was singing for me.
“You'll be mine...”
Swallowing over my swollen tongue, I pressed my knees together. The heat was back. It clawed at me, steam that needed to be vented. I was fucking ready for Drezden. That was what this feeling was. An emotion that bent me to its will, held me prisoner as much as my dark singer's voice did.
I wondered what it would be like to kiss him again.
He was so insistent, so primal. He smelled so good, god, if I just got close again... Before I realized what I was doing, I placed my puckered lips on the wall. It was stupid; I knew that. If someone saw me they'd think I was insane.
Or pathetic. But there was no one to spy on me. Right then, with our music mixing, there might as well not have been a wall at all. I was kissing cold paint, but his gritty tone vibrated the material. It numbed my mouth, brushed my lungs, my spine, and beyond.
With my eyes closed, I played the ending of Velvet Lost. The last of the music melted, snow flakes on my scalding skin.
I thought of his honey tongue, his astringent gaze. When I looked up, the blank wall left me dejected. Fighting Drezden was too hard. Everything was too fucking hard.
Just like him. Everything about him is hard, too. Like a true virgin, I turned beet red. My privacy was appreciated more.
“Lola.”
Startled, I jumped back from the wall. Oh, shit. What else had I expected? “Hey,” I said lamely, hearing the cracks in my voice.
Something slid over the wall. I didn't know if it was his hand, or something else. My eyes went to where I'd kissed, imagining him copying me. “Lola,” he said again, metallic. “We should get the guys and head to the Fillmore.”
I was nodding, knowing he couldn't see. “Alright. Let me get changed.”
“They'll have clothes for you there.”
Crinkling my mouth, I laughed. “Seriously? Fine. Most of my stuff is dirty anyway.”
He said no more, so I scrambled to slide on the cleanest things I had left. If the staff for the venue—or was it just for Four and a Half Headstones?—was going to fix me up, I wouldn't fret.
Tying my hair back in a tail, I let my neck breathe. I was sweltering from the tiny jam session, and not because of the effort. When he sings, I feel like he's sliding through my skull and into my gut, my being. Thinking about Drezden sliding himself into any part of me was making me wilt.
For a long moment, I stood with my hand on the brass handle of my door. I was counting the seconds. Each one was one more bit of existence with a solid barrier between Drezden and myself. Willing my heart to calm the fuck down wasn't working.
Defeated, I pushed out into the hall.
The
“You fight me...” Drezen sang, tormenting me. “And I can't keep my feet beneath.”
Vigorously I scrubbed my cheeks. Two can play this game. My guitar case thunked, clasps snapping open from my quick fingers. I spent the barest time tuning, one ear aware of the next song Drezden began.
“Sticky sweetness,” he crooned. My pulse jolted, the stiff pick between my fingers tickling my strings. Behind the cloak of my strums, I heard his silence, his falter.
He hadn't expected me to reply like this.
My grin hurt my cheeks.
“Burning fast.” He was louder; stronger. Had he moved closer to my wall? “My love, my dear, this will be your last...” Standing smoothly, I didn't miss a note while I walked towards the painted barrier.
With everything and nothing between us, Drezden and I played together. We were perfection. Without needing to see, we sensed the tempo and followed the scent. He led me, but I left the trail for our return. As we sped up, my heart did, too.
There was an echo in his lyrics; like his cheek was pressed on the hotel's surface. “If I take you from the grave, you'll be mine.”
Clenching my molars, the tremble boiled through my cells. Before, he'd been singing for himself. A shift had happened.
He was singing for me.
“You'll be mine...”
Swallowing over my swollen tongue, I pressed my knees together. The heat was back. It clawed at me, steam that needed to be vented. I was fucking ready for Drezden. That was what this feeling was. An emotion that bent me to its will, held me prisoner as much as my dark singer's voice did.
I wondered what it would be like to kiss him again.
He was so insistent, so primal. He smelled so good, god, if I just got close again... Before I realized what I was doing, I placed my puckered lips on the wall. It was stupid; I knew that. If someone saw me they'd think I was insane.
Or pathetic. But there was no one to spy on me. Right then, with our music mixing, there might as well not have been a wall at all. I was kissing cold paint, but his gritty tone vibrated the material. It numbed my mouth, brushed my lungs, my spine, and beyond.
With my eyes closed, I played the ending of Velvet Lost. The last of the music melted, snow flakes on my scalding skin.
I thought of his honey tongue, his astringent gaze. When I looked up, the blank wall left me dejected. Fighting Drezden was too hard. Everything was too fucking hard.
Just like him. Everything about him is hard, too. Like a true virgin, I turned beet red. My privacy was appreciated more.
“Lola.”
Startled, I jumped back from the wall. Oh, shit. What else had I expected? “Hey,” I said lamely, hearing the cracks in my voice.
Something slid over the wall. I didn't know if it was his hand, or something else. My eyes went to where I'd kissed, imagining him copying me. “Lola,” he said again, metallic. “We should get the guys and head to the Fillmore.”
I was nodding, knowing he couldn't see. “Alright. Let me get changed.”
“They'll have clothes for you there.”
Crinkling my mouth, I laughed. “Seriously? Fine. Most of my stuff is dirty anyway.”
He said no more, so I scrambled to slide on the cleanest things I had left. If the staff for the venue—or was it just for Four and a Half Headstones?—was going to fix me up, I wouldn't fret.
Tying my hair back in a tail, I let my neck breathe. I was sweltering from the tiny jam session, and not because of the effort. When he sings, I feel like he's sliding through my skull and into my gut, my being. Thinking about Drezden sliding himself into any part of me was making me wilt.
For a long moment, I stood with my hand on the brass handle of my door. I was counting the seconds. Each one was one more bit of existence with a solid barrier between Drezden and myself. Willing my heart to calm the fuck down wasn't working.
Defeated, I pushed out into the hall.
The
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