Tracing Holland (NSB Book 2) (7 page)

“That’s pretty obvious. You’re mind-blowing
when you play. Like, seriously, remarkable. I guess the rumors aren’t
exaggerated.”

I feel the heat start to rise in me,
and have to look away again. “Well, let’s hope some of the others are,” I joke,
trying to deflect the attention and lighten the mood.

I’m pretty sure she knows what I’m
doing, but
lets
me go with a grin. “I guess we’ll have
to see.”

∞∞∞

“Luke.”

“Callie.”

We exchange a smile at our signature greeting.

“Is this seat taken?” she asks, setting her plate across
from me.

I smile. “Does it even matter?”

She grins back. “Nope.”

I shake my head and motion for her to sit.

“Where’s Case?” I ask, and snicker at her annoyed grunt.

“Who
knows.
He was in the back
working on Penchant stuff when I left the bus, so I doubt we’ll see him until
call-time. I just hope he at least takes a shower and eats something,” she
mutters.

I laugh. “Bring something back for him. He can clean up in
the sink on the bus.”

She gives me a look. “Not a chance. There’s no way I’m
rewarding this behavior.”

“Ok, sorry! It was just a suggestion!” I smirk, holding up
my hands in surrender. I focus back on my
lunch,
relieved
it’s just us and a few crewmembers at the moment. I miss my conversations with
Callie. She has this way of looking inside you when she’s there, turning the
conversation into more than just words. Those first few days at
Jemma’s
...she rewired my life with her piercing engagement.
I love spending time with her, being in her calming presence, and we haven’t
had many opportunities for that these last couple weeks. So yeah, I’m annoyed
when she ruins our rare moment alone by bringing up the one topic that can
unhinge me.

“How are things with Holland?”

I stare over at her in surprise, maybe irritation. “Huh?”

She rolls her eyes. “Come on. She’s like the one person in
the universe who can understand every aspect of your being.
The
spotlight, the pressure, the music, everything.
You two must be hitting
it off. If you haven’t yet, you need to get on that, like, yesterday.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “None of your damn business,”
I return lightly.

She rolls her eyes with a smile. “Whatever. She’s hot, too.
Like,
smokin
’. You can’t do any better, Luke.”

My eyes widen, and she only shrugs.

“What? She is! She’s sweet, and smart, and talented, and…”

“Callie, please. It’s not happening, ok?”

“What’s not?”

“Whatever it is you’re trying to make happen. It’s not going
to happen.”

She huffs and glares at her plate. “I’m not trying to make
anything happen. You know I wouldn’t rush you. I just…” She stops and glances
back up at me, all the humor gone from her face. “I just hope you’re going to
be fair to yourself, that’s all.”

Her words hit me hard. “Fair? What are you talking about?”

She leans forward and gazes straight into me. “You deserve
to be loved. You deserve friends. You deserve to let someone in. I’m not saying
it has to be Holland, but if it is, you need to let it happen.”

I laugh then. I know it’s just a defensive reaction, but
it’s so absurd. Talking about love after all this time. Talking about loving
Holland Drake of all people. And I thought Callie understood me. Crap, if she
doesn’t, I’m completely screwed.

“Thanks, Cal, but seriously, you can’t worry about that.”

She looks hurt. “Worry about what?”

“You know what I mean. Me. Love. Dating. All that shit.
It’s…” I stop. It’s what? I don’t know. It just feels wrong, pointless.

Now, she’s annoyed. “I’m not worried about anything, Luke. I
would never rush you or pressure you into a relationship! I just know you. I
know how you punish yourself and deny yourself anything that could remotely
lead to happiness. I’m calling you out on your self-denial because I’m afraid that’s
what I’m seeing here. This is a ‘get real’ moment.”

I laugh when the grin spreads across her lips.

“Oh, yeah? Is this Callie Roland Straight Talk?”

She leans back and crosses her arms. “Yep, exactly.
Callie Roland Straight Talk time.
Just promise me you’re not
going to push Holland away if she starts to get close. That’s all I’m asking.
You don’t have to date her. You don’t have to fall in love with her. Just don’t
push her away if there’s a connection, that’s all. You deserve to be
understood.”

I chuckle at that, I can’t help it. I know I’m pissing her
off, but she has no clue how ridiculous this whole conversation is. “Callie, I
love you, you know that. And I love that you care so much, but please, you’re
way off on this. Holland is great, I totally agree with you, but there’s
nothing for me to push away, ok? We’ve had a couple conversations and might be
friends one day, I don’t know, but she’s not into rockers, and I totally
respect that. It’s a wise move on her part. She faces enough of a stigma as a
woman in this business. She doesn’t need that kind of drama or gossip in her
life. And let’s face it, it doesn’t get any more dramatic than hooking up with
Luke Craven while on tour.”

Callie is actually glaring at me now, and I have no idea how
to explain this any better.

“She told you that? She actually said she wasn’t into
rockers,” she challenges, and I laugh.

“Honestly, yes. She did.”

“I don’t believe you. When?”

“Yesterday.”

“What? She just looked you in the face and said, ‘nope, not
a chance’?”

I shrug. “Sorry to disappoint you, but yeah. Pretty much
exactly that, actually. Complete with all the awkwardness and uncomfortable
silence you’d expect.
Although it was actually kind of sweet
in a way.
Still, trying to figure that one out.”

Her eyes widen. “Holy crap. You’re serious!”

I shrug again and nod. “Yep.”

“Are you freaking kidding me? Unbelievable.” She actually
curses this time and grips her fork in a violent fist.

“I’m sure she just doesn’t want distractions in her life. I
don’t blame her.”

Callie rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Yeah, but still.
To come out and actually say it?
I will never
understand you musicians,” she mutters. “Seriously! You create so much drama
trying to avoid drama!”

I laugh and pity her lasagna as she stabs it in frustration.

“It’s fine, really. I’m not looking for a relationship, you
know that.”

She meets my eyes, and I know I’ve said the wrong thing.

“I know you’re not. And it’s ok not to look, as long as
you’re not closing yourself off from one finding you.”

“You mean like a wall painting?” I ask just to test her
reaction. She looks appropriately confused, and I find some comfort in that. So
Holland had been telling the truth. The whole painting metaphor was original
Holland Drake intuition.

“Huh?”

I shake my head. “Never mind. Someone told me once that I’m
like a painting. People like to look but no one dares to come near it. That I
wouldn’t let them even if they wanted to.”

Callie’s expression changes.
I shouldn’t have said that. I’ve just invited a
conversation I don’t want to have anywhere, let alone at a folding table in
catering with crewmembers a few feet away.

“Who said that to you?”

I stare at my plate. “It doesn’t matter. Do you think it’s
true?” I ask, daring to meet her gaze again. It’s too late to go back now.

Her eyes search me, the compassion I so admire filling my
soul with that strange warmth that’s been creeping in lately.

“Yeah, actually, I do think it’s true. It’s a great metaphor
for you, but it’s their loss, Luke. It is, for sure, but it’s also not fair of
you to keep denying the rest of the world the beauty inside you. You’re just as
much to blame.”

My stomach drops. There should be a defensive quip rising to
my tongue right about now, but instead I’m locked in stunned silence. I don’t
know how to respond. Nothing seems to fit.

“Luke, I’m serious. You’re ready. I know you’re ready.”

I suck in my breath. “I am? Ready for what?”

She smiles as she shrugs. “I don’t know. For whatever’s next.”

∞∞∞

“
Hello. Hello.
Greetings
from the inside.
Hello. Hello. Framed in all your lies…
”

The crowd is screaming along with me,
twenty-thousand
backup singers belting out the now famous chorus as I lean into the
mic
, emptying my lungs of the music exploding in my chest.
I can’t actually hear their cries as the click track and mix pour into my ears
from my IEMs, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t stop the adrenaline, the rush
of being on stage. Of being transported to that one place where everything
makes sense. The only place I don’t feel like a stranger.

My muscles tense with each lyric, each strain toward the
mic
,
each
violent assault on my
guitar.

“
Hello! Hello! How you
love to see me cry, always so…
”

Sweeny kills his riff on the outro and I jump back to give
him the spotlight, letting my body take complete control from my head. It’s
just raw instinct now.
A visceral heat driving me as I dominate
the stage, my tiny kingdom.
Lights
flashing,
haze swirling around us. I’m exhausted after the long set, but I don’t want it
to end. No matter how many times I do this, no matter how many shows, songs,
hours of pouring out my soul, I never want to say goodbye. This is my home, my
giant family I will never know.

Sweeny nods after a couple progressions, signaling the end
of his solo, and I pass it along to Casey who leads us out with a huge fill.
Sweeny, Eli, and I join in, hammering the last chord for a full seven seconds
as we let our bodies match the intensity of our sound.

It’s
finally time, the end, and I let go of my guitar to hop
back on the
mic
, grabbing it with both hands.

“We love you!” I cry into the final barrage of music still
swelling around us. I pull out my in-ears so I can hear the roar, the deafening
air. I raise my hand in salute. “Thank you, Atlanta! Good night!”

Myrtle Beach, South Carolina

September
16-19

I am so
grateful for my own room again when we roll into Myrtle Beach that I pretty
much determine I don’t want to leave it until we have to report for the show in
three days. I stretch out on the bed, closing my eyes, breathing in the stale
hotel air like it’s a fresh mountain breeze. I’m hungry, but I can’t even
imagine leaving this sanctuary in search of food. Three days of privacy. Three
days of silence. Three days of protection from the endless looks of pity or
disdain. Three days of no inquiries, or probing, or questions about my mental
state disguised as questions about water bottles and snack food. I’m so giddy,
I almost text Callie to let her know I finally remember what happiness feels
like. Almost. I’m pretty sure I know what’s happening in Casey’s room right
now.

The thought makes me smile, then frown as Holland’s face
ruins the moment. Annoyed, I try to shut it out, but the effort only makes it
worse. Now it’s her hair, her eyes, her smile,
the
pen
in her mouth as she writes in her notebook. Her lips. Her strong, but delicate
fingers as they slide over the smooth wood of my guitar. My body starts to
react. Oh god, not again.

I curse into the darkness of my room, pounding the mattress
in frustration, but it doesn’t help. She’s still there, burning in my head,
reminding me of how long it’s been since I let another person invade my soul.
Touch me. Since I’ve touched. My body is screaming now, my breath coming harder
as I clench my eyes shut, trying to make it stop. It’s been so long.
Too long.

I bolt up from the bed, guilty, furious, the self-hatred
knocking hard against the wall of my conscience. I don’t even know why or what
I’ve done, I just know I’m sinning against something, someone. I strip off my
shirt, my jeans, everything, and move into the bathroom, turning on the water
to the shower with a rough hand. I’m terrified as I step under the healthy
stream, having no way of knowing if the warm flood will save me or push me over
the edge. There’s no way to be sure, but after a few seconds I realize she’s
still here. She’s followed me from the bed. I lean against the wall, hot tears
burning behind my eyes, my brain desperately fighting against the cries of my
body. I can’t do this, can I? I can’t. I…

I try to shut her out, but the harder I try, the worse it
gets. Cross-stich. Cross-stich. Cross-stich. No, there’s her laugh. Her
brilliance.
The captivating magic of her immersion in the
music.
My hand is disobeying my brain now, desperate as it soothes and
stirs, crushing my will, knocking me into total submission to the painful
ecstasy.

You’re an enigma,
Luke. You’re a dark, beautiful painting locked high on the wall behind a
protective shield of glass.

Is there a woman on
this planet who could resist you if you wanted her?

You’re an insanely
talented, walking, talking Greek god bad boy. You even have the sexy accent,
tortured soul thing going on.

Don’t even pretend
you’re not used to it.

I gasp, overcome with guilt, with pleasure. My body
collapses against the wall, thanking me and punishing me at the same time. I don’t
move, absorbing the chill from the tile as it bleeds into my back and calms the
raging fire that just wrecked me. I can feel the anger, the guilt, the
longing,
start to meld together in a twisted knot as my
brain begins to catch up with my young, virile body. I finally push away from
the wall, the tears mixing with the water as I let go and turn my face into the
stream. I hold my breath, not that there was any air left in my lungs.

Oh god, what have I done?

∞∞∞

I sit
on the edge of my bed for a long time, haunted by what just happened. Punishing
myself, forgiving myself. I don’t know. I’m not sure I’ve done anything wrong,
but it doesn’t feel right either. I rest my head in my hands, staring at the
floor. I have no idea how to be a good person, what that even means. All I know
is I’m trying, but maybe it’s not enough.

I also know that I’m actually relieved when my phone lights
up with a text from Casey and Callie letting me know they’re heading to the
beach. Funny how an hour ago I couldn’t imagine leaving this room and now
I’m
desperate for any reason to escape it.

The beach sounds great and I respond that I’ll meet them in
the lobby in a few minutes. I pull on some shorts and a t-shirt, casting a
quick glance at myself in the mirror. It’s always fast. There’s almost never
anything there I want to see. I notice my eyes look tired, but that’s to be
expected with our brutal schedule over the last few days. No one will suspect
anything different.

I take the elevator down to the lobby and almost force the
doors back closed. I’d left my room to escape her and there she is, perfect
flesh giving life to the dangerous hallucination in my head! They spot me,
however, eliminating any chance of a retreat, and I plaster my best smile on my
face.

“Hey, guys,” I say, approaching the small group, careful to
keep my eyes fixed on Casey and Callie. I can’t look at Holland after what I’d
just done with her in the shower. She’d been engaged in a separate conversation
with Wes and her drummer, Spence, when I appeared, and suddenly falls silent.

“No Eli and Sweeny?” I ask
,
mostly
to distract myself from the effect of her intense gaze. I can feel her studying
me, searching me, and it’s messing with my brain chemistry in a bad way.

“They’re coming,” Casey answers. “Late as usual.”

I snicker, not at all surprised. As if on cue, the elevator
doors open, and the boisterous duo explodes into the lobby.

“Let’s do this!” Sweeny calls, drawing stares from everyone
else in the large space.

Callie laughs and takes Casey’s hand, dragging him toward
the door. “Yes! Let’s go!” she cries, giving us no choice but to follow.

∞∞∞

The beach
is not as crowded as I would have thought. There are plenty of other visitors
enjoying the sand and walking along the surf, but it’s definitely not the
raucous party atmosphere I’m used to. This crowd is mostly families with young
children or retired natives strolling along for their daily walk. Callie is
clearly through the roof with excitement, and I can’t help but grin as she
skips across the bridge over the dunes. Casey just shakes his head in amusement
and struggles to keep up.

“Come on!” she cries turning back and waving us on.

“Has she never seen the beach before?”

I stiffen at the voice, my smile faltering. I force another surge
of energy into it.

“Callie lives everything in the moment,” I explain to
Holland. I suck in my breath, and allow myself to look at her but immediately
wish I hadn’t. She’s stunning with her loose,
cut-out
tank draped over a bikini top and tiny shorts. Her aviator sunglasses hide her
eyes from me, but I know they’re focused on me as well. I can almost feel the
tension in her too. It makes no sense, given how much energy she pours into
convincing me she has no interest in me.

“It’s pretty hot,” she muses, still staring at me, and I
can’t stop my grin.

“What, the temperature or the view?”

She laughs and shakes her head. “Wow. You are so full of
yourself!”

I give a playful shrug, and she shoves me as we move down
the steps together.

“You know what I meant. Yes, the temperature.”

“So that’s where we are now? Talking about the weather? I
let you play my Gibson.”

“Exactly. Which is why we’ve graduated from the stock market
to weather.”

I laugh, and cherish her return grin. “Oh, I see. So what
does a guy have to do to get to sports scores?”

“I’m not sure you could handle that,” she responds with a
sly look.

“Oh, really?” I ask, warming to the challenge.

“October is the best month for sports.”

And the magic vanishes as Wes steps in.

Spence is up front with Jesse, Eli and Sweeny, Casey and
Callie are hand-in-hand several paces behind, which leaves our awkward threesome
bringing up the rear.

“Oh, hey, Wes,” Holland greets, and I have to admit I like
the slight hint of disappointment in her tone. I don’t know if he picks up on
it, but he clearly has no intention of leaving the two of us alone to explore
our gentle flirting.

“Great day for the beach,” he says, and we nod.

“Gorgeous,” Holland replies.

“Not as many people as I would have expected,” I add,
desperate for anything to fill the uncomfortable cloud surrounding us. I can
see Holland holding in a smile, and I love that she knows how awkward this is
too. I’m about to excuse myself to join another group, rather than endure this
agony, when Jesse, Spence, Eli, and Sweeny do us a huge favor by ripping off
their shirts and plunging into the water. Casey and Callie pull to a stop, and
I’m not at all surprised that Casey jumps to join them. He drags Callie after
him as she screams, laughing and trying to smack him away at the same time.

“Oh
my gosh
, they are so adorable,”
Holland observes.

I glance over, basking in the momentary warmth of watching
the happiness of my two closest friends.

“They’re for real,” I say.

“Almost gives you hope, huh?”

My stomach drops. I can’t even respond, and she studies me
hard, confusing me with all kinds of emotions. I’ve completely forgotten about
Wes. So has she.

“Hope is a complicated word,” I manage finally.

After another long silence, she nods and focuses back on our
companions.

“Come on guys! You need to get in here! The water is so
warm!” They’re calling to us, waving us in from the shore.

Holland laughs. “We should. Let’s go!”

She pulls off her top and starts slipping out of her shorts,
exposing a body that makes my mouth go dry. I can’t stop staring, any earlier reservation
completely gone. As soon as she started moving, so did Wes, and he’s in the
water on his way to the group before she even finishes dropping her shorts and
tank a safe distance from the water’s edge.

I still haven’t budged by the time she returns, and she gives
me an annoyed look.

“You’re still dressed!” she whines, hands on her hips.

I laugh. “You go. I’ll guard our stuff.”

She glares at me, making it clear that’s not going to work
for her.

“Not a chance.”

She grabs the hem of my shirt and starts pulling it up my
chest.

“Hey! What are you doing?” I cry.

“Stripping you so you have fun for five seconds.”

Shocked, amused, and completely turned on, I stop resisting
and let her yank it over my head. The humor fades as she stills, inches away,
our bodies close, but totally off-limits to each other. She’s at the right
angle that I can see her eyes through her sunglasses now, tracking every detail
of my form, and I’m sure I hear her suck in her breath a bit.

“My god,” she whispers. “Seriously?” She searches my eyes
and I can sense every ounce of her sudden fascination. My blood pounds, my
heart racing. She wants to touch me. It’s all over her face, her body language.
She even glances at the others, testing her limits, and I follow her gaze. I’m
sure I feel the same pain of frustration she does at their attention.

We’re on stage.

She lets out an awkward laugh and takes my hand instead,
pulling me toward the waves as if nothing had happened. I have to force a smile
to hide the volcano erupting inside me, and nearly wince as we step into the
surf. The water may have been warm for ocean water, but it feels like ice
against my burning skin.

The others laugh and splash in the distance, but my gaze is
glued to Holland. I love everything about the joy on her face as she joins in
the fun.
The fact that someone so deep and introspective is
also able to let go so completely.
It’s captivating, magnetizing. I’ve
never been able to do that, not without the assistance of substances that could
totally abduct my brain and mask my consciousness. I don’t regret getting clean
for a second, but I do miss those moments of stepping outside my own saturated
existence. It gets exhausting being me.

“Luke, get over here!” Holland yells.

“Yeah, come on, grumpy!’ Callie echoes, and I roll my eyes.

“Ok, I’m coming,” I concede, fighting the small waves as
they crash against my knees. I have to jump to avoid being slapped in the face
by a few more, but finally reach the three of them hovering a few feet beyond
the breaking point. The rest of our group is a hundred yards away, diving into
the ripples, and I understand their position much better when I notice a cluster
of bikini-clad women setting up nearby at the water’s edge. It’s only a matter
of time before that party happens.

“Wow, they’re pretty hot.”