Page 11 of Lucky Break
He chuckles, finally lifting the lid off the box.
His amusement fades and his fingers sift through the contents, pulling out one of the twenty personalized guitar picks to examine closer.
I ordered them after a conversation we had this summer. It’d been a particularly slow night at the bar. Heat waves do that. No one wanted to leave their air conditioning and ours had been on and off all day with rolling blackouts. Callum had lost his guitar pick between sets and we looked everywhere, finally finding it between the floorboards near one end of the bar. It had probably fallen out of his back pocket when he’d come to chat with me. But before we found it, he’d said he couldn’t wait for the day he was so rich and so famous, that throwing a guitar pick into the crowd no longer felt frivolous and wasteful. I’d felt the despair in his words that day. The shame he held for caring whether or not he’d lost his only pick because he didn’t have a spare. That’s what it’s like when you’re living the starving artist life sometimes.
I couldn’t give him fame or fortune, but I could give him a box of guitar picks.
Only, the way he’s staring at each one, I feel stupid.
They’re cheap. Probably bad for playing. Corny, too. I’d customized them with his name. It was silly to think he’d be impressed by this gift.
“It’s okay if you don’t like them. Or never use them.” I reach for my drink, my cheeks heating with embarrassment. I want to slip out of the room and hide away.
“Tess.” He sets the box down, and when I don’t look at him, his fingers gently lift my chin.
My stare meets his and our eyes lock. My breath hitches and my heart hammers in my chest. I can’t look away, but the way he’s staring is giving me hope. Does he feel this?
“I love it,” he whispers. He’s barely touching me, but it’s the most distracting thing. It takes me a moment to realize he means the picks. His fingers leave my chin to brush along the column of my neck.
I’m frozen in place by his attention. Scared that if I move it might break this spell he’s under and he’ll stop.
“Tess?” He scoots closer, his thigh pressing against mine. “You remember everything. It was you tonight, wasn’t it?”
I know what he’s asking. Was I behind Detour Records stopping by to see him play?
“It was nothing.”
“It was everything.” His gaze searches my face. “How?”
I don’t know what he’s asking. “How what?”
“How did I miss what was happening here?” His hand cups the nape of my neck. His thumb rubbing gentle circles and prickling my skin. “It’s been you. Here the whole time. And I almost missed it.”
9
CALLUM
She’s the one.The one who’s believed in me. The one I’ve always laughed with. The one who makes me feel settled in a way no one else does. What Tess did today goes beyond anything anyone has ever done for me, and I’m seeing her in a whole new way.
I want to kiss her. Her lips are so tempting. I want to press my lips against hers and get lost in her body. I think she feels it too. Her eyelids flutter shut as I caress her skin with my thumb. Her mouth is so close, and it would be so easy to pull her to me. But warning bells sound in my head and I hesitate. Maybe this is wrong. Maybe I shouldn’t kiss my best friend. Hell, maybe I shouldn’t kiss anyone considering it’s only been a few hours since Celeste and I broke up.
“Callum?” Tess says.
“Yeah?”
“Fucking kiss me already.” There’s desperation in her demand, along with a vulnerability I’ve never witnessed before.
With that request, how can I refuse?
Closing the remaining space between us, I capture her lips in a gentle kiss. But it doesn’t last. I need more. Her mouth parts and my tongue dips inside, deepening our connection. My pulse races. My body heats. There’s an urgency to explore all of her. To claim this moment before it slips away. The part of my brain that cautions me to slow down is drown out by desire.
Weaving my fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck, I give it a tug and am rewarded with the most delicious groan. “You like that?” My hands rove lower, over her t-shirt, where her nipples press against the worn fabric. She arches into me, and I wish we were naked, because then I could lick and suck her breasts. “I want to learn everything you like.”
“Fuck.” Her breath hitches.
“Do you want that, Tess?” I kiss her lips again, my hands cupping her jaw. “Is it okay if I take off your shirt?”
“Yeah.” She nods, not quite meeting my eyes. She’s always so confident and bold, and her timidness catches me by surprise. Does she not understand how fucking perfect she is? How much I want her? Or is that not it at all? Maybe I’m moving too fast. She could be having second thoughts.
