Page 93 of Dirty Like Seth
I’d played with Elle for ten days straight now, here in her studio. We’d spent most of that time working on new songs, and on the weekend, we’d started recording. Five nights ago, I’d shown her my test results, but she still hadn’t touched me. She hadn’t given me any indication that she wanted me to touch her. And even though it was silently killing me, not being able to reach out and draw her into my arms, I could hardly put pressure onher.
She said this was how she wanted it. That what happened was just sex. And apparently, “just sex” meant just one night of sex. And the morning after. And that wasit.
I still didn’t believe that was all there was between us. But I was not gonna pushit.
Elle was in a tough spot as itwas.
I knew she still hadn’t told the guys in the band, or Brody, what she was doing here, at her house, with me. If I’d been a better man, maybe I would’ve bowed right out of her life, made it easier onher.
But Ididn’t.
I’d crashed on Ray’s couch for a few more nights so I could spend time with him in the mornings, have breakfast, talk about sports and other shit I did not care about but Ray did. I cared about Ray, so I put that time in. But every day I’d been itching to get back here. I’d come over as soon as Elle texted me that she was up and ready toplay.
Since I’d checked into the hotel, though, things had gotten harder. At least at Ray’s I felt like I was serving a purpose. Now, each night as I lay in my hotel bed, alone, I thought about just packing up and taking off. Just leaving Elle the fuck alone, the way I should’ve left Jessa alone all those yearsago.
There were just too many uncomfortable similaritieshere.
The big ugly secret of itall.
The lies Elle was gonna have to tell the band because ofme.
The fact that she’d probably be better off without me, without this major fucking complication in herlife.
I just couldn’t believe she’d put up with this kind of complication if it was just to make some music and have one whirlwind night of sex. She could get that from a lot of other men, without thecomplications.
Which just left me lying in bed at night, staring at the ceiling with the question thudding in my head:Whyme?
But each day, I shoved that question aside and enjoyed this for all it was worth—which was a hell of a lot. Because each day, the days I played with Elle in her studio, felt like the best days I’d had in a long, longtime.
The best days since I’d lostDirty.
I did not know how to give this up. This, the best thing I had going in mylife.
Even if it was selfish. Even if it wasn’t the best thing forElle.
I looked around her studio… This beautiful, white room with its high ceilings and the rainbow-colored portrait of Bob Marley on one wall, a couple of platinum Dirty albums lined casually, crookedly, on another. The big, fluffy chair covered in white faux fur. The girlie magazines and music magazines all mixed up on the coffee table, with random earrings and tubes of lip gloss and bottles of nail polish. The single photo, carefully framed and set on a shelf—of Elle when she was a teenager, maybe sixteen or so, with her parents and her little sister, all snuggled up together on acouch.
This room… it felt like Elle’s sacredspace.
I was still amazed that she’d let me in here. Sometimes, it was easier to fathom that she’d let me into her bed than that she’d let me into thisroom.
Today, she was gone. Dirty had resumed auditions. Which meant I’d lost any chance I’d had with them, if I’d ever had any at all. They were officially continuing their search to replaceme.
But I still hadthis.
I had the music Elle and I were making, the long days spent in her studio, sometimes right into the night. And today, while she was at the auditions, she’d let me hang out here while she wasn’t evenhere.
About an hour ago, she’d texted to let me know she was on her way home and wondering if I wanted to stick around. A little while after that, she texted again to say maybe we could order dinner in, but meanwhile, I’d already cooked her dinner. Figured it was the least I could do, since she’d let me be here while she was out—though it felt weirdly domestic. Weird because I wasn’t used to making dinner for anyone but myself. The few days I’d spent in Hawaii with Elle and her staff, I’d cooked more meals for other people than I had inyears.
But it wasn’t a badfeeling.
In truth, if you set aside all the bullshit with Dirty and all the bullshit I was afraid I was gonna cause for Elle, I felt truly, deeplygoodfor the first time since what went down with the band earlier this year. Cautiouslygood.
When I heard Elle coming into the house, I headed into the kitchen to check the chicken. I’d already told myself not to butt in. Not to ask how her day went. Not unless she brought it up. It was gonna kill me not to ask, not to have any idea what was going on at the auditions, but if that was the price I had to pay for being here, with her, I’d payit.
The first words out of her mouth were, “Holy shit, it smells amazing in here.” She appeared from the main entrance hall and stood there, looking in at me, like she was afraid she was in the wrong kitchen, like this couldn’t be herhouse.
“I made some dinner,” I said, popping the lid back on the crockpot.
