Never Say Never (8 page)

           
Oh
God, what did I just do...

           
Maybe
we could pretend it never happened. Maybe...

            I
tried to sneak out of bed, but he turned in his sleep and threw his arm over me
again. “No...” he whispered, still half-asleep, “don't go...I always sleep
better with you…”

           
Wait,
what?

           
“Danny...”
my voice began to falter.”

            “No...”
he murmured. “Stay with me, Peyton...”

            My
eyes widened. “Peyton?” I couldn't resist exclaiming out loud, so loudly that
his eyes shot open. “Who's
Peyton
?
”

           
He
sprang to his feet, shock and panic spreading across his face, as he grabbed a
pillow to cover himself.

            “Neve?
What the hell are you doing here
?”

Chapter
8

           
I
was turning several shades of bright scarlet
as Danny's eyebrows crinkled in confusion. It was abundantly clear that Danny
Blue had no idea whatsoever what had happened between us last night. The look
of warmth on his face – the soft cadence of his voice – all these had vanished,
replaced by a look of utter surprise. If it were anyone else – if it were Kyle
or Luc or Steve – I'd know how to handle it. We'd fallen asleep next to each
other before and sometimes even woken up cuddling (hell, even Luc and Steve had
woken up together a time or two). We'd always just laughed it off, chalked it
up to drink or exhaustion – but this was different. I'd spent the night wrapped
up in Danny Blue's arms, fantasizing about his skin against mine, about his
hands trailing up and down my body – under the impression that he was, at
least, fantasizing about me too.

            “I'm...so
sorry...” I stuttered, trying to think as quickly as I could. If he didn't
remember what had happened between us, I figured, at least I could find a way
to spin things that wasn't so awkward. “My car broke down last night...I wanted
to wake you...couldn't...slept on the couch...”

            “
Your
car broke down?
”

            “Isleptonthecouch,”
I said breathlessly, trying to force the words out of my mouth. “I was stranded
last night – I mean, this morning. And I couldn't get home and my phone was
dead so I went back in to find you but you were asleep, and, uh...”

            “Unclad?”
Danny couldn't help but betray a hint of a smile. One hell of a sexy smile. The
image of his gorgeous, chiseled naked body was distracting, even now. He
grabbed a luscious green silk dressing gown and put it on. “No, you wouldn't
have been able to wake me up – even if you'd wanted to.” His eyes darkened.
“I've been on prescription sleeping medication for...well, just about a year
now. Had an accident. Helps me sleep. Once I take one of those, I'm knocked out
for the night – completely unconscious.”

           
Not
completely,
I thought.

            “I
didn't have anywhere to go,” I explained. “I didn't want to bother you so I
figured I'd just sleep on the couch.”

            “It's
not your fault,” said Danny. “I sleep like the dead even at the best of times –
and with three hours average of sleep two days running, I'm out like a light.
I've been running on adrenaline for days now. But had I known, I would of
course have gotten up and driven you back home. I am a gentleman, after all.
Even if last night I was a very sleepy, very conked-out gentleman. I hope
you'll forgive me. Was the couch comfortable, at least?”
            I could still smell the sweet smell of vanilla and cinnamon in his
hair. “Very.”

            “Well,
let's talk about all this over a good old fry-up, shall we? Only – er, Neve?”

            “What?”

            “I
do
need to get dressed at some point.”

           
Shame.
“
Of course,” I was even more flustered than before. “I'll, just, uh – well,
I'll wait in the living room, okay?”

            I
sat on his living room couch, looking out at the sea, unsure of how to feel. On
the one hand, I was relieved that Danny apparently remembered nothing of our
midnight adventure, and didn't think I was some kind of crazed stalker or
rapist intent on getting into his bed at all costs. On the other hand, it meant
that those kind words Danny had said, his caressing tone of voice, his kisses
and the words he'd used – they weren't for me. They were for his dream girl,
the girl whose name he'd cried out in the early hours of the morning –
Peyton...
I
should have known. He probably had a girlfriend. Someone like Danny Blue was
mature, worldly, sophisticated. What could he see in a bright-eyed college
freshman like me?

            He
emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, shiny and showered, his black
jeans showing off the shape of his hips, a businesslike black blazer over a
decidedly grungy white tee, and a corded leather masculine necklace around his
neck. He looked like a fashion model stepping out of the magazine. “Sit,” he
said, pointing to one of the large stools at the kitchen's island counter. His
voice was firm – I almost bristled at the easy authority with which he assumed
over me; he sounded like the TA Mr. Blue, not the friendly, sexy Danny I knew.
But somehow I didn't mind. I sat at the kitchen counter while Danny loaded up a
frying pan full of bacon, mushroom, eggs, and sausages.

            “Great
hangover cure from back home,” Danny said, “but it also works to give you
energy if you haven't slept.”

            “I'm
not hungry...” I tried to protest, feeling I'd already intruded enough.

            “We've
got a gig tonight,” said Danny. “You need your strength – and so do I. Besides,
the eggs are going off today and I need someone to help me eat them.”

            He
plopped down two plates on the kitchen countertop. I was still too nervous to
eat, and only vaguely picked at my eggs, still feeling like an alien in Danny's
strange world, wishing I could get out of there, away from Danny, away from the
distracting image of Danny's naked body that refused to leave my head.

            “Tsk
tsk!” he noted. “You're not touching your bacon. I'm almost hurt, Neve. I drive
all the way to the butcher's twenty miles from here to get proper English bacon
done right – won't you at least tell me if you like it?”

            “I'm
good,” I muttered.

            “Oh,
for goodness' sake, you're not one of those girls who just eats salad and
lettuce, are you? Given how much energy you expend singing I always figured you
just had a fast metabolism. Tell me you're not on a diet, please!” He laughed
and waved a fork full of bacon in my face. “When I was little my mum used to
tell me to open up for the “choo choo train”. I'm not going to have to do that
with you, am I? Because I know from experience – salad does not sufficient
energy make for a night of performance.”

            “I'm
not on a diet!” I protested. “It's just that bacon makes me break out – and the
last thing I want to do before tonight is show up with pimples all over my
face.”

            Danny
shrugged. “Your loss,” he said, and finished the bacon himself. It smelled
delicious – but I couldn't stand the thought of eating right now when my
stomach was doing flip flops. “I wouldn't worry so much if I were you. Your
skin's fine – really, it's flawless. Either you put on a hell of a lot of
makeup before I woke up this morning, or you're worrying too much...”

            I
flushed pink, enjoying the compliment – even if it was disguised in a healthy
dose of teasing. “I've got youth to thank,” I said, “but my mom always says
that by the time I hit thirty....”
Crap, why did I have to say thirty? Danny
must be a few years shy of thirty.
Why did I have to remind him just how
young I was – he'd probably already pulled away, after that first night of
rehearsals, after realizing I was only eighteen. Why did I have to make things
worse?

            Danny
only smiled. “You are pretty young, aren't you? But someone would think you
were at least thirty – given how busy you are, and how you’re able to manage a
group of guys so well. Your age hasn't stopped you from getting out there,
doing things...”

            “I
guess it's because my parents started young,” I said, calming down somewhat now
that Danny and I were both clothed and carrying a conversation like two normal
people.

            “It
sounds like an interesting upbringing,” said Danny, crossing his arms, “and one
day I'd love to sit down with you and talk all about it. But right now I don't
think it's the time – you – and I for that matter – have to get to Professor
Poe's class in thirty minutes, and if we don't hurry, we'll be late. There's a
guest bedroom and bath through the hall – you can use the spare toothbrush in
there if you like....”

            I
hurried through breakfast, brushing my teeth and washing my face as quickly as
I could. Unfortunately, last night's makeup was still smeared on my face, and
my clothes were decidedly – embarassingly – slept-in. Even Danny Blue's
meticulously-kept guest bathroom – as clean and well-stocked as a hotel
lavatory – couldn't keep me from looking like I was doing anything but the walk
of shame.

            “Knock
knock!” Danny entered with a pile of clothes in his arms. “I had these lying
around – I thought you might want to change into something. I mean – as lovely
as the “day old” look is, I figured you'd want something that didn't smell of
Steve's spilled beer.”

            “Thanks,”
I said, taking them. I wanted to know where they came from – did Danny have a
girlfriend? - but I didn't mention it.

            Luckily,
the clothes fit me just fine. When I emerged into the living room, however,
Danny turned pale – a look of absolute shock spreading over his face, as if
he'd seen a ghost.

            “Is
something wrong?” I asked him.

            “No...”
he couldn't look at me. “No...it's fine. They – uh, they suit you. You look
nice.” But from his expression, I knew something was wrong – and I knew just as
surely that it wasn't up to me to ask. Danny Blue was getting more and more
mysterious by the minute.

Chapter
9

           
D
anny and I were mostly silent as he drove me
to class. We stared straight ahead, keeping our eyes on the road, looking out
at the sea that lapped at the feet of the cliffs.

            “Er,
Neve? I don't mean to be awkward...” he began. Of course, with that melting
English accent of his and those piercing sapphire-colored eyes, he couldn't be
awkward even if he wanted to.

            “Sure?”
I looked over at him.

            “I'm
new as a TA to this class,” he said, “and I want to make a good impression on
Professor Poe, especially if I'll be going up for teaching jobs at the end of
the year once I submit my dissertation.”

            “Sure?”

            “And
I'd really rather not – not that of course you don't know the truth – but, I
don't want to make a bad impression, or risk my reputation...”

            I
realized what he was getting at. If I turned up on campus early in the morning
in Danny Blue's car, people might think we'd slept together. People might
know
,
rather, that we'd slept together – in a manner of speaking. And that would be
pretty damaging to Danny's career, not to mention my own reputation.

            “So
do you mind if I drop you off on campus here and you walk the rest of the way?”

            “Sure...”
I said, feeling relieved to have a few seconds to myself to deal with my
thoughts. My heart was still racing as I left the car and jogged across campus;
I needed to expel all this energy, all this pent-up frustration, that was
coursing through me.
What were you thinking, girl?
What
had
I
been thinking? I'd succumbed to the temptation of a moment, to Danny's glorious
body and his soft, sweet words – I'd risked the integrity of the band and my
friendship with the boys for a night that hadn't even gone anywhere, which
Danny didn't even notice or remember. No, this couldn't happen again – even if
Danny wanted it to, which from his relatively formal demeanor I was pretty sure
he didn't. I had to stay strong, stay professional. I had to stay away from
Danny Blue.

            But
when I arrived in class mere seconds after he did – when our eyes met from across
the room and he shot me the tiniest hint of a secret smile – I knew that it
would be hard. The past few days had been a crash course in Danny-ology, and
now I knew it would be hard to keep ourselves to the teacher/student
relationship we needed to maintain in the classroom. I felt close to him –
strangely possessive of him – and I couldn't look at him in that tight-fitting
black blazer without being able to make out the tantalizing forms of the
muscles underneath. I wanted him – I knew that – my whole body ached to be
close to him, to be with him as I'd never been with – or even wanted to be with
– anyone else before. I'd heard his music – I'd heard the mysterious, plaintive
song he'd written and played in secret, the tears streaming down his face as he
played. I felt that I'd looked through a window into his soul – that we were
connected by some strange bond, by the power of the music that he played, and
the music that I sang. There was still so much to learn about him – who was
Peyton? Why did he still cry when he sang about her? And why had he freaked out
when he saw me in that set of clothes – clothes that still seemed to unnerve
him every time his eyes fell upon me in the classroom?