Falling Out of Hate with You (The Hate-Love Duet 1)

I tighten my jaw. “Well, thank goodness, you’re not the one they’ve asked to be on it, then.”

“Thank goodness for small mercies.” He puts his water bottle down. “Obviously, you’re happy about this, so I’m happy for you. Congrats.”

I shoot him daggers. Even while saying all the right words, his tone is infuriating. Doesn’t he realize my career is at a totally different level than his, and almost certainly will never reach the towering heights of his? So excuse me if I’ve taken a job he considers beneath him. A job I’m honestly really excited about.

Out of nowhere, Savage bites back a smile in reaction to whatever he’s seeing on my face. He licks his lips, suggestively, and, suddenly, despite my annoyance with him, I’m feeling highly aroused. Without warning, warmth oozes into my core and between my legs, making me pulse and tingle. And that’s how I know there’s something really wrong with me . . . because being angry with this man only makes me want to fuck him, all the more.

I stand, suddenly feeling the need to get away from him. To save myself. I announce, awkwardly, “I think it’s time for me to meet my hair and makeup woman in my dressing room.” It’s not true. It’s not even close to time for that. But that’s what came out of my mouth. My gaze still holding Savage’s and my cheeks burning, I add, “I’ll probably call my mom, too, for a little pre-show pep talk.” Why am I saying that? These people don’t care about my To Do List. My face blooming, I peel my eyes off Savage’s to address the rest of his band. “Have a great show, guys. I’ll watch from the wings.”

They wish me a great show, too, and I thank them, before turning on my heel and striding out of the greenroom as fast as my legs will carry me, feeling Savage’s dark eyes on my backside as I go.

Ten

Laila

Providence, Rhode Island

There’s music blaring in Titus’ hotel suite. Drunk, stoned people are all around me, laughing and playing drinking games. Beer pong and Drunk Jenga, mainly. We’re celebrating Titus’ and Ruby’s joint twenty-fifth birthday tonight at a post-show party. All the musicians from both bands are here, plus, a select group of staffers and crew. And, glory be, I’m the perfect level of drunk. Still totally coherent and in control of myself, but feeling fine as wine and invincible.

For what feels like the hundredth time tonight, my eyes drift to Savage across the crowded suite to find him already looking at me like he wants to murder me. Or fuck me. Or fuck my face. With him, I’m never sure which is which.

I should look away, I think. But the second I think it, Savage looks away first. Dammit! The only reason I held Savage’s gaze in the first place was so I could look away first!

It’s par for the course between us. The way it’s been since Philadelphia, two weeks ago. We stare and glare and have lengthy nonverbal conversations. But we don’t talk. Ever. So, tonight, I’ve decided to reset the game clock, meaning I’m never going to speak to Adrian Savage again, ever, unless he speaks to me first. Is he still pissed about the little bitchfest I had with my assistant about his lateness on day one? Or has he simply decided he doesn’t like me because I pushed back on his unsolicited career advice? Either way, he can kiss my ass.

Oh, God. I wish Savage would kiss my ass. And then, the rest of me.

Stop, Laila.

Ha.

I take a long swig from my bottle of whiskey and lean my back against a wall in a corner of the crowded hotel suite. I’m acting like an antisocial weirdo at this party, which is totally unlike me. But I’ve reached my breaking point with Savage and his constant brooding and glaring. I don’t expect him to treat me with the kind of warmth Ruby and Kendrick always do, obviously. Those two are sunshine in human form. But I can’t stand this constant tension between us. Something’s gotta give. Somehow, I’ve got to shake things up and force Savage to make the first move. But how?

My phone buzzes in my free hand, and when I look at the screen it’s a text from Malik, asking me if I’m available to FaceTime.

Me: Sorry, no. At a noisy bday party. What’s up?

Tall_Man: I’m coming to your show in NYC!

Me: Which one? Friday night regular show at Radio City or Sat night charity concert with lots of bands at The Garden?

Tall_Man: Sat night at The Garden. I’d come to both but I’ve got a game on Friday. I’ll come backstage to say hi and take you out for late dinner afterwards. Yes?

Me: Gotta do a dinner thing after the show with Reed and all the other artists on the bill. You can come as my guest, if you want. We’re allowed a plus one.