"So is your dream to make it big and get a major recording contract so that you can trash hotel rooms and smash guitars onstage?" I joked.
Simon laughed. "Honestly, I'm not sure. Yeah, it'd be great to get signed but if it doesn't happen, I'll be perfectly content to play small venues. I've even given some thought to opening a guitar school if the stage starts to get old."
I gave Simon a skeptical look. I couldn't imagine his larger than life charm and charisma being boxed into something as square as teaching guitar. "I can't imagine that," I said, smirking. "To deprive the world of Simon Crewe? It's unimaginable."
Simon smiled. "I'm sure the earth will still continue to rotate on its axis even if I'm teaching eight-year-olds the G chord."
It was comforting to know that Simon wasn't addicted to the attention. That he saw a life beyond it. It made him seem human again. In my mind, seeing Simon on stage had opened a yawning chasm between us. But he seemed reachable again. I had to remind myself that I shouldn't be reaching for him.
"Still," I said lightly. "You're so good up there. It would be a shame if you didn't pursue it. Did you write all the new songs you guys played tonight?"
"Some. A few of them were half-finished and the guys helped me out with them this
past summer."
I got the feeling that Simon was being generous crediting Grant and Marcus with some of the songwriting, but I didn't comment on it. I wanted to ask him about the raven-haired siren song, but I knew that was dangerous territory. So I kept the conversation about Simon. "You write your own songs, you're an amazing singer and you're a genius on the guitar." I shook my head. "Isn't there anything you can't do?"
"I can't cook," he reminded me. "Remember? That's where you come in."
"We'll see," I replied. "I get the feeling that you're going to become far too busy to learn how to cook. Now that the new Henchmen has been unleashed, I doubt you'll have time to putter around in the kitchen."
Simon's voice dropped but his intensity deepened, suddenly shifting the conversation away from the lighthearted banter. "Remember, I'm not afraid to ask for what I want," he said, his eyes glittering. "And I want you."
I took a sharp intake of breath and looked around the table to see if anyone had overheard him. The others were too busy laughing and joking around to notice us.
"Simon," I started slowly, not wanting to hurt his feelings and trying to hold on to the shred of self-control I had left. "I'm flattered. I really am. But-"
His eyes narrowed. "Why are you fighting this? We're attracted to each other. Isn't that enough? And don't bother trying to tell me you're not. I see the way you look at me."
"I don't look at you in any way!" I said indignantly, ignoring my conscience at the lie. I took a deep breath to calm myself. "Simon, like I said, I'm really flattered. But I don't have room for a relationship in my life right now. I'm happy the way things are. We're friends. Can't we keep it that way?"
Simon's face darkened. Although I had seen the light and fun parts of him, I was beginning to see that he had a darker side as well. I had the fleeting thought that one wouldn't be smart to cross him. "We're not friends, Caitlin. What I feel towards you isn't friendly. It's way beyond that. Don't deny this."
"Simon," I said pleadingly. "Please don't make this awkward. The last thing I want is for things to be weird between us. But I just can't right now."
"Why not?" he bit out impatiently.
Because I'm crazy. Because I'm afraid the visions are back to stay. Because I don't want to see your beautiful face in agony in my dreams. And I'm afraid that if I'm with you, I'll have to witness that again and again.
"Caitlin," Simon said shortly when I didn't answer. "I said why not."
I scrambled for an answer that would placate him. To make him return to that easy camaraderie that I had relished earlier. "I just-I'm not," I stammered, wanting to look away from his piercing gaze but feeling transfixed. "There are things that you don't know about me. I'm messed up."
I was getting dangerously close to the truth and that terrified me more than anything. The compulsion I had to tell Simon things that I had never shared with anyone except Sarah scared me. So I lied, knowing that my next words would ruin any possibility between us. But that's why I chose them. "I'm in love with somebody else."
Simon abruptly straightened and his expression turned glacial, his eyes pinning me to my chair with disbelief. "What the fuck?" His curse jolted me. He had been so playful and gentle before that the vulgarness startled me. "No way. There is no way in hell you're panting after some other guy. Not with the way you look at me."
I swallowed, determined to carry out the lie. "It's true, Simon. I'm sorry. I...I won't deny that there's an attraction between us. But nothing can come of it."
"Who?"
"Huh? Who what?" I asked stupidly.
"Who are you in love with?" Simon exhaled harshly. "Who is it?"
"He-uh...he doesn't go to this school. I mean, he's not a college student. He's older," I lied, my mind whirring as I tried to think up an imaginary love. I had thought Simon would have dropped it after I had told him I was in love with someone else, but now he was doggedly pursuing details. I wasn't the best liar, despite masking so much of myself to others. That was just omitting. This was actively lying. "I met him last summer in Philly."
"So why aren't you together?"