Page 52 of Sing For Me

“Hey,” she murmurs against my chest, arms coming up around me.

“Hey,” I whisper back, breathing in the scent of her hair. It’s citrusy, maybe lemons? There’s also an undertone I can’t quite name, but it smells sweet, like sugar. Sweet and soft and delicate, just like her.

“Sorry about that,” she says, pulling away to gesture to the stairs behind me. “I, uh, usually don’t answer the door myself. It’s a, um, security thing.”

“It’s no problem,” I tell her, even as a feel a pang at her words, like I do every time she lets me get a glimpse of the fear that clearly runs deep within her.

“Come on in,” she says, turning to lead me further into her place.

“This is gorgeous, Eva,” I mutter, looking around. “I didn’t realize you lived right on the water.”

She sighs happily, looking out the windows. “That view is pretty much the best thing about living in LA.”

“Hey now. You’re not insinuating that this city is anything short of amazing, are you?”

She grins at me, expression cheeky. “I’m a New York girl. LA will only ever be okay compared to the greatest city in the world.”

I step back towards the stairs. “Yeah, I’m gonna have to take off.”

She grabs my arm, laughing, and I basically swoon like one of my silly cousins at the feel of her hand, even over the material of my shirt.

I am so far fucking gone over this girl.

“Sorry, sorry,” she laughs. “LA is great. I just love smog and insane traffic and all the paparazzi. Truly.”

I narrow my eyes. “I’m sensing sarcasm, Eva, and I’m not sure I like it.”

“Come and drink some wine, Tattoo Boy,” she says, turning to the kitchen and giving me a perfect view of her perfect ass as it sways in front of me.

She has two glasses of red already poured waiting for us on the white marble counter. “You want to take these outside?” she suggests. “The sun just went down but the sky’s still pretty.”

“Lead the way.”

Her deck is similarly decorated in teak loungers and chairs with masses of fluffy, white pillows and cushions. Everything about this house reminds me of Eva—beautiful and feminine, light and airy. She heads to the railing, leaning against it as she looks out over the ocean, and I’m struck dumb for a moment at the sight of her standing there against the backdrop of grey ocean and pink sky.

Realizing I’m not with her, she turns around. Whatever she sees in my eyes makes her blush and duck her head. There’s something about her shyness that hits me right in the gut. It seems so incongruous for someone who makes their living performing in front of crowds and that dichotomy draws me in, makes me want to know her better, understand her.

“How was your day?” she asks when I join her at the railing.

I think about the back and forth I’d engaged in my head all afternoon, the way I’d felt completely stir crazy while I tried to figure out what to do about this thing between us. Standing here next to her now, those worries seem a million miles away. It just feels so right when I’m with her, deep down in my gut.

I decide, right then, that I’m going to talk to her, just like my cousins encouraged. I owe it to myself to figure out if we can make this work, if I can get past the hang ups of my past. Because I’m starting to get the feeling Eva might be worth the struggle.

“The girls—my cousins—are having a sleepover tonight,” I tell her, deciding to save the heavy stuff until after we both have a bit more wine in us. “So they all descended on the apartment right before I left.”

“You said you live with Rose?” she asks.

“Rose and River, yeah. The three of us were the first to move out of the family homes. Which our parents did not take well, let me tell you. I think my dad expected me to live at home until I was thirty. Dude cried when he saw my room all packed up. Mom said he played emo music for two weeks after I left.”

She slaps a hand over her mouth. “That’s sweet.”

“A little more overbearing than sweet,” I say. “But, yeah. They all felt a lot better about us living together if we weren’t going to be home.”

“And you’re close with them—with River and Rose?”

“Oh, definitely. They’re my best friends.” I twirl the wine in my glass. “You said you were close with your sister? Katherine, right?”

She nods. “Kat is the best. It kills me that she’s in New York without me. I was so hoping she’d pick UCLA but she got a better financial aid package at Columbia.” She scowls. “Not like I couldn’t have paid the difference.”