As Dust Dances (Play On 2)

And Killian stared at me with an open awe I’d never expected to see on his face. He was so closed off, so good at hiding positive emotions, I thought I felt my heart skip a beat at the naked warmth in his eyes.

“I . . . that makes sense.” He sounded winded by the realization.

The waitress appeared with our food, breaking our gazes.

I felt a little off-balance, my skin flushed. After the way he’d treated me at the label, I’d promised myself I was over my crush. Yet all it took for me to forget that vow was an apology and those dark eyes melting like chocolate as he stared at me.

I wanted Killian O’Dea.

I couldn’t help myself.

I was tethered to him somehow and I didn’t think I’d be able to cut myself loose so easily.

“Skylar?”

I loved the way his deep, accented voice wrapped around my name. “Aye?” I teased, trying to break the electric tension between us.

He didn’t smile. He appeared unsure before he said, “I didn’t just want to apologize for the way I treated you. I wanted to reiterate something.”

And just like that, the warmth disappeared. I got a sinking feeling in my stomach and dropped the tomato I’d been about to shove in my mouth. I knew what was coming.

“I won’t pretend when you confided in me I did that merely to help get you where you needed to be mentally for the album. You needed someone to talk to, and I genuinely wanted to be that person.”

I cleared my throat of the disappointment beginning to clog it. “I appreciate that.”

Killian’s expression turned almost pleading. “But I . . . I can’t be your friend anymore. I think we both know that it was crossing a line into territory that would only confuse things. We can’t complicate our business relationship. Things are going to be stressful for you at first and you don’t need any extra pressure. And I’m . . . You may be right about my uncle, but I still need to be the best. My job is my passion and I can’t risk it. Not . . .” He broke off, looking away.

Not for me.

The few times I’d been vulnerable with Killian, I’d felt safe. It had been a purging of emotion so intense, I was drowning in it, and it had been like Killian was there to pull me to the surface.

But this time I only felt naked and cold and alone.

I needed him to think him choosing career over whatever it was between us wasn’t a big deal. I needed him to think I didn’t care.

That I had other things on my mind.

“You’re right,” I finally responded, grateful that my voice came out strong, my tone neutral. “A lot is about to happen and I need to be focused.”

He assessed me carefully and I gazed at him, seemingly unconcerned. When I was about to throw the salt shaker at him to get him to stop looking at me like a wounded animal, Killian nodded. “Good.”

How could it be so easy for him?

Was it only physical attraction for him? Was that why? Did he not feel the pull between us, like there was a cord that drew us together despite our resistance?

Was that all in my head?

I stabbed some salad with my fork, unable to look at him. “So, what’s next?”

“Next?”

“With the album?”

“Well, how’s the wrist?”

“Not quite ready. I tried playing and I was in pain for the rest of the day.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He sounded so formal.

“Yes, it was quite taxing,” I teased in an uppity voice.

He gave me an unimpressed sigh. “In the meantime, I’ve put together a PR and marketing team. We should arrange a meeting with them. See how we can find ways to handle the inevitable circus when the news of your return hits. And then we can look at how to make sure, once the initial interest fades, that your publicity is career-focused. We don’t want your personal life becoming tabloid fodder again.”

“Yeah, it would be good if we avoided that.”

“I’ll arrange the meeting, then? You’re ready for that?”

I didn’t know if I’d ever be ready for it, but this was happening whether I wanted it to or not. I stared at the man partly to blame for that, wishing I could hate him. “I should probably start checking in on the world, right?”

“How do you mean?”

“Before I sit down in a room with a bunch of people to discuss protecting my personal life, I should probably google a thing or two about the current state of my ex-band.” The thought made the food in my stomach churn unpleasantly.

Killian couldn’t mask his concern for me, and my patience slipped. “I don’t mean to be a bitch, but if we’re not going to be friends, you can’t look at me like that anymore.”

For a second his expression turned hard, but then it was gone, that signature blank façade slackening his features. “Fine. I’ll get you a laptop. You can google to your heart’s content. Just don’t come running to me when it messes with your head before you’re ready to deal with it.”

“Oh, I won’t.” I gave him a tight smile. “O’Dea.”

Killian stared at me apparently emotionless . . . but the little tick of muscle in his jaw gave his frustration away.

It was a tiny balm to my own.

* * *

WHEN A DAY PASSED AND Killian still hadn’t gotten me access to a laptop, I began to suspect he was deliberately avoiding doing so. I could’ve hounded him about it and he would’ve brought me a borrowed one, but I wasn’t sure I was ready to start opening all those wounds. Maybe he understood that better than I did.

Yet, when another day passed with another failed attempt to play my guitar, I started to feel stir-crazy. It had only been two days—and there had been days in the past eighteen months that I hadn’t spoken a word to anyone—but I was used to speaking to Killian almost every day, and if not him, then Autumn.

How mad at me was she? The thought of losing her friendship made me feel sick, so I finally got up the nerve to text her.

I didn’t mean 2 go behind ur back 2 O’Dea. I was worried abt u.

While I waited for a response, I read a book but I read the same paragraph fifteen times before my phone finally binged in response.

I’m not mad. Just embarrassed. Also I’m worried about you . . .

Oh no. Did we have to have another open conversation about how her brother and I were planning to ignore our attraction . . . because awkward.

But my phone binged before I could respond.

. . . You text in abbreviation? Skylar, I’m shocked. Really. Maybe you should see a text therapist. Xx

I grinned, absolutely relieved she was joking with me.

Me: I know. It’s a problem. I’ve tried rehab bt it didn’t stick.

Autumn: Why would you miss the ‘u’ from ‘but’? It’s one letter! Lazy much??

Me: I cld b mo lzy . . .

Autumn: It’s sad that I understood what that meant. Xx

Me: So wht u doin?

Autumn: Trying to decide what I want to do with my future.

Me: Heavy. Dya wanna take a break from the heavy?

Autumn: What did you have in mind?

Me: Anythg tht will get me out of this apt.

There was no response for a minute or two, but finally she replied.

Autumn: Have you ever been to King Tut’s?

I felt a flush of excitement at the thought. King Tut’s Wah Wah Hut was one of Glasgow’s cult music venues. It was where Alan McGee discovered Oasis. Blur, Biffy Clyro, Radiohead, Kings of Leon—they’d all played there. New bands and old still played the venue. The guys and I had wanted to see it for ourselves when we played Glasgow, but we never got the chance.

Me: No so don’t dangle that carrot unless u mean 2 let me eat it!

Autumn: LMAO. Would I do that to you?

Me: Possibly . . .

Autumn: A friend bought tickets to see this guy I’ve never heard of but she has to work now. I googled the guy—Saul Crowe—and he’s really good. Do you want to come with me? It’s tonight at 8pm. Xx

Me: 100%!

Autumn: Okay, great! I’m actually not in the city today so I’ll just get back in time for the gig. Can you meet me there at 7:45pm?

Me: Not a problem. See u then! Can’t W8T!