Wild Collision (Us 4)

“I was wondering … why do you still live at home? It seems like your life is here and a nearly hour drive each way every day sounds exhausting.”

“Some days I want to get an apartment here and stay,” I confess out loud for the first time ever, and to Hollis of all people. “But … I love my mom, dad, my sister and brother … leaving them feels permanent somehow. Like I know once I move out, a part of my life is over.”

“It’s all a part of growing up,” he agrees. “It’s not easy being an adult.”

“It’s not. Some days I wish I was a little kid again. I miss the naivety of childhood.”

“Don’t we all.” He smiles easily.

Our waiter finally appears with our food and my stomach grumbles. I love food. I can’t help it—food is life.

As we eat Hollis asks, “Did you go to regular school or were you homeschooled because of travel?”

“I actually went to a regular public school most of the time. But whenever the band toured all of us kids went along and we had a tutor.”

“Are you all close?”

“Nuh-uh. It’s my turn to ask a question,” I sing-song.

He sighs. “My bad. Go on.”

I take a bite of my turkey sandwich and think. “What makes guys like you make a sport of bedding as many girls as you can?” I challenge.

He twists his lips in thought and counters, “What makes you think I’m one of those guys?”

I tilt my head and give him the look. “I’ve seen pictures. Don’t act like you’re a saint.”

“Googling me?”

I shake my head. “No, you’re plastered all over my Instagram feed because every girl in a hundred mile radius is jumping at the chance to be the next to land in your bed.”

He winces. “It makes me sound … conceited.”

I snort. “You are conceited.”

He chuckles. “I guess it’s true. Now answer my question.”

“Yes, all of us kids are close. Like cousins. My dad’s bandmates are my uncles and their wives my aunts.”

“Having a big family sounds nice. At least I have some family, but…” He trails off shrugging.

“Talking to you is easier than I thought it would be,” I admit quietly.

His eyes twinkle. “Why—did you think it would be difficult to talk to someone so devastatingly handsome?” He rubs his chiseled jaw.

I roll my eyes at him. “You wish. The way you came off at first was so full of yourself, but…” I pause, searching for the right way to phrase it. “I see now it was an act. A shield. To protect yourself.”

His lips part and I realize I’ve stunned him. I have a feeling Hollis Wilder is rarely ever surprised.

“If no one knows the real you, then it doesn’t hurt when they leave or try to sell you out,” he confesses.

“Why let your guard down now?” I can’t help but ask.

“I guess I sense a kindred spirit in many ways.”

He stares at me with those strangely golden eyes and it feels as if he can see all the way down to my soul.

We’re toeing a dangerous line, but I stay seated. I don’t leave—I don’t want to.