SOUTHSIDE HIGH: Rockstar Enemies to Lovers Romance (Tempest World Book 1) Page 5

  Oh, to be that guitar.

  “Like old times, the three of us playing in front of an audience.” Bryan included Dizzy in a sweeping glance before looking back at me, his lips curled. “Only you without your feather boa.”

  “And you without your top hat,” I said, teasing. “How can you possibly manage to play without it?”

  “I manage just fine,” he said low, his voice inducing a shiver.

  I knew he was no longer merely referencing his guitar-playing abilities, and further, I believed him. His hair in his eyes, the way he looked at me through his lashes, Bryan was the epitome of dark and sexy, in his casual but ready-to-play stance. His feet were planted apart on the concrete, his weight on his back foot. An accomplished guitarist now, I had no doubt. Head to boots, Bryan Jackson was totally swoon-worthy.

  “What song needs two acoustics and no keyboards?” I asked, my voice tellingly rough as I turned to War.

  “Nothing Compares 2 U.” His eyes heated as he stared back at me, his full lips curling up at the corners making me lightheaded.

  “Unexpected,” I managed to say.

  “Think you can handle it?” War ran his gaze over me. If his gaze were rubber tires, I’d have marks on me from the tread. His interest lingered again in the usual places for guys.

  What wasn’t usual was the way I reacted to it. Warmth pooled between my legs. My nipples tingled. My heart raced.

  “I can handle whatever you throw at me, Warren.” I stamped my hands on my hips.

  “War,” he said, correcting me.

  “We’ll see.”

  “Yes, we most definitely will.” The curve of his lips deepened, carving arrogant grooves into his lean cheeks.

  “Diz,” War called, turning from me to my brother. “You ready?”

  “Ready,” Dizzy said.

  “Bry?” War asked, shifting to look at his friend.

  “Always ready to play, brother.”

  “Thought so. Come here, Lacey.” War grabbed me, one of his arms sliding around my waist as both of mine fell to my sides in surrender. He might not be as muscular as Bryan, but there was no mistaking the unbreakable strength of his hold.

  “Let go of me,” I said without enough volume to be believed. My protest was weak, maybe because I didn’t really want him to release me. I might not feel entirely safe in his embrace, but I felt something, for sure.

  “Never,” he said quietly.

  “What?” I asked, wondering if I’d heard him correctly.

  “You ever sang into a mic?” he asked, his eyes flashing with challenge.

  “Lots.” I straightened my shoulders.

  “In front of an audience?” He gestured while continuing to hold me. “One this size?”

  “No.” I gulped a nervous swallow.

  “Thought not. You’re trembling, babe.”

  I was, but not because of the audience.

  “It’s as easy as breathing.” War dipped his chin, shining strands of his dark and light caramel-brown hair sticking to the darker stubble on his jaw as he stared down at me. “If in front is where you’re supposed to be.”

  “Have you?” My pulse racing, I licked my dry lips, and his gaze dipped to them. They tingled from his regard, making my stomach flip. “Sang in front of this many people, I mean.”

  My thoughts were like sand in a desert. Too many and too fast to contain inside the dust storm I suddenly found myself in with him.

  “Talent shows. After-school functions. A couple of frat parties. I have experience.” War’s gaze lifted. His eyes weren’t merely brown like strongly brewed tea. They were pixilated with copper, swirling as if stirred by a metal spoon.

  “You have a lot of experience,” I said softly. Like with Bryan, we’d segued into another topic, and my heart sputtered at the memory of War in the bathroom with those two girls.

  “Not ever with someone like you.”

  Stunned speechless, I blinked at him, telling myself I must have misheard or misinterpreted his meaning.

  “Diz!” War barked his name so suddenly, I startled. “Let’s play some fucking music.”

  “’Bout time.” My brother strummed the opening chords.

  Jaws in the crowd dropped. Eyes widened. My brother played from his soul. The music he coaxed from his instrument was as beautiful as he was.

  Accustomed to hearing him play, I smiled. The people in front of us, not so much.

  I drew in a breath, hoping to regain my equilibrium before it was time for me to sing. But the air was heavy with War’s cologne. I’d gotten only a tantalizing whiff of it earlier. I imagined it came in a dark green bottle shaped like a bomb. It certainly detonated my senses, reminding me of damp earth and thick foliage. A jungle, a canopy overhead, the broad leaves blocking all but the tiniest sliver of moonlight. And a predator, War, on an earthy floor . . . stalking me.

  Suddenly, a countermelody split the darkness, the chords blazing, parting the canopy so I could see the night sky and a brilliant shooting star. My eyes rounding, I shifted to look at Bryan, but he didn’t notice me. His eyes were closed, his brow earnestly creased as he made love to his instrument.

  My lips parted and my breath grew short. I felt it between my legs, each deep chord as if he were focusing that intensity on me.

  “It’s been seven hours . . .”

  As War sang the first words, I shifted yet again. The ground beneath me seemed to slant me in his direction. Ditto for everyone in the crowd. They leaned forward too. His singing voice was sexy and seductive, like Chris Cornell’s baritone crossed with the throaty growl of Eddie Vedder.

  War placed his hands on my shoulders, gently turning me to face him. A beat passed as he gazed at me expectantly. One of his dark brows rose.

  Shit. It was my turn.

  I turned my head toward the mic, and War released me. I began hesitantly. But I felt the energy of the crowd, harnessed it, and wrapped it around myself like a mantle. Finding my courage and my voice, I dug deep and belted out the words.

  At first, my focus was the people in front of me, but the man at my side couldn’t be ignored and came in on the next line. Draping his strong arm around me, War caught me, and not just physically. His voice and his talent captured me, and there was something else I hadn’t yet identified.

  Moving his hips in a sensual rhythm, he seemed to be reaching deep too. He took the simple words and elevated them. Squeezing his eyes shut, he went to high tenor, the ease with which he did it and the sound that emerged was like nothing I’d ever heard before.

  Opening his eyes, he found me looking at him, spellbound. He beckoned with his gaze for me to join him. I moved forward and placed my lips to the mic. It was all that separated us.

  Our voices melded together, our eyes locked, and our breaths mingled. His was warm and minty fresh, making chill bumps break out all over my skin. Dizzy and Bryan were with us. My brother held steady on rhythm. Bryan went wild like a helix on lead guitar, enhancing rather than detracting from the baseline.

  Staring in each other’s eyes, War and I finished the song, harmonizing on the final words, “To you . . .”

  The music faded, followed by a few beats of silence.

  I drew away from the mic but continued to stare into War’s rich brown eyes. His were slightly widened, as were mine. What we’d created with the four of us together went far beyond the messing around Dizzy, Bryan, and I had done as kids.

  I was impressed with myself, though I’d never voice that thought. I didn’t usually sound that good on the mic alone. Or did I?

  As I pondered it, applause broke out. A smattering at first, then a thunderous roar of unanimous approval.

  War grinned. Shifting, I caught my brother’s smile. Then I leaned forward to look at Bryan.

  He was the only one not smiling. His brow was pinched, and dark shadows obscured the light gray in his eyes.

  I knew he couldn’t disapprove of what we’d done. But it almost seemed as though us being this good together as a band wo
rried Bryan somehow. After a beat that maybe only I measured, he shook away the shadows and gave me an affirming nod.

  “That was bitchin’, Lacey.” War put his hands on my upper arms, reclaiming my attention. “But I still won, darlin’.” His eyes flashing with coppery confidence, he drew me under his arm and put his mouth on the mic, asking the crowd to vote.

  But I knew even before they weighed in that War had won.

  War

  I kept my eye on Lace while half listening to Dizzy and Bryan debate which foot pedal manufacturer was better. She was sexy as fuck and talented as hell. I’d never met a chick like her. Most were easily had and easily forgotten. But not her.

  Without a doubt, I wanted to make Lace mine but I was also intrigued. I wanted to know everything about her. Honestly, I couldn’t decide which I wanted to do more—figure her out or fuck her.

  Okay, not true. I wanted to fuck her first, then talk to her, but I didn’t think that order was going to work with her.

  “We rocked it,” Dizzy said, and with the technological bullshit discussion over, I refocused on the conversation. “Everyone said so.”

  “Everyone meaning the thirty or so people who came for the free beer?” Bryan asked.

  “Yeah.” Grinning, Dizzy nodded.

  “Not sure that’s a big enough sampling to go on,” Bryan said as his gaze shifted to Lace.

  Her head turned as if he’d called her. Their gazes clashed like cymbals, then ricocheted apart. Lace ducked her chin and fiddled with her keyboards. Bryan took a step back, shoved his hand in the front pocket of his jeans, and pulled out a crumpled pack of cigarettes.

  “We’re on the right track,” I said. It was time for me to take control of the situation with the band we were on the cusp of becoming, and of Lace, who I’d have sooner, rather than later. In that order of importance. “Tonight was a good start, but two guitars, a keyboard, and a lead singer doesn’t make a rock band. We need a drummer and a bassist. Then we need to practice, write our own music, and get some gigs.”

  “Hell yeah.” Dizzy held up his fist, and I bumped it. “Fuck.” He made a face. “Your rings, man.”

  “What about them?” I raised a brow.

  He shrugged. “Nothing. Only, damn, you have a shit-ton of them. So, what’s your solution to the personnel problem? Do you play any instruments?”

  “No, I don’t. My voice is my instrument. I don’t need to do shit else. Lacey,” I called, glancing at her. “You got anything to add to this discussion?”

  “Oh.” Her blond brows rose. “Am I actually going to be included in this conversation?”

  “Yeah.” I pressed my lips together, trying not to smile at her attitude. “Did you see some other bitch singing besides you tonight?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Not a bitch, Warren.”

  War, I thought, correcting her silently. Soon, she and I were getting that straight, among other things.

  “You wanna be in this band or not?” I asked her pointedly, making her believe her participation wasn’t mandatory.

  “I’m in.” She stood and skirted her keyboard.

  I shifted as she approached, making room for her in our group of three. I didn’t overanalyze, but I got a bigger kick out of having her stand beside me than I had reestablishing my rule at school.

  “The acoustics are good in the garage.” I slid my arm around Lace’s slender shoulders. “Can we practice here?” I asked Dizzy.

  “Warren.” She glared at me and tried to shrug free, but I tightened my hold. I noticed Bryan frown.

  “We can after five on weekdays, when my uncle’s not home,” Dizzy said.

  “We’re not allowed to have friends over when he’s home,” Lace said. “He barely tolerates Diz and me as it is.”

  “Five on weekdays is fine.” I could feel the sudden tension in her and totally related to it. My old lady wasn’t happy about me having friends over when she was around either.

  “Five’s too early.” Lace shook her head. “I have to study.”

  “Babe.” I caught her eyes and gave her a firm look. “Studying’s a waste of time. You won’t need school once we hit it big.”

  “That’s the time. Take it or leave it.” Her chin lifted to a stubborn angle. “Unless you want to practice somewhere else.”

  “All right.” I squeezed her shoulder. Actually, I was cool with the time. I had my mandated lessons with the choir teacher and my once-a-month probation appointment to consider. “Six on weekdays. Here. It’s settled.”

  “Except we’re short a drummer and a bassist,” Bryan said.

  “Yeah, you’re right. We just need to ask around. Shouldn’t be that hard to fill those noncritical positions.” I shifted to face Lace, placing my hands on her shoulders. “Now there’s that matter of a favor someone owes me.”

  A blush hit her cheeks as I swept my thumbs over the tempting silky skin the scoop neckline of her sweater revealed. I wasn’t a big fan of her choice of clothing, though I was going to love removing it.

  “Not having sex with you, War.” She shrugged off my hands.

  “Good guess.” My lips curved. “And you said my name the way I want you to.”

  “Shit.” Realizing her error, she frowned.

  “You will have sex with me.”

  “War.” Dizzy’s tone had an edge, nearly as sharp as his glare.

  “I have this.” Lace said to her brother, then narrowed her eyes on me. “You’re really something. You know that?”

  “Chicks say that all the time,” I said with a shrug and a smirk.

  She shook her head in disbelief. “They must have low expectations.”

  “They do until after I give them a taste of me.”

  Her lips quirked.

  “I need to talk to you,” I said low. “Privately.

  “War,” Bryan said, his tone terse. It hadn’t escaped my notice that Dizzy wasn’t the only one bristling about Lace and me. “I’m gonna take off.”

  “No, man. I wanna walk with you, and this won’t take long. Can you hang back for a minute?”

  “Sure, I guess.”

  “Let’s go inside the house.” I captured Lace’s hands.

  “You can’t go inside.”

  “Why the fuck not?” I asked, immediately defensive.

  “You just can’t.” Her expression was firm. “That’s another one of my uncle’s rules.”

  Ah, so this wasn’t about me.

  “How about we go over there?” I tilted my head toward a dark narrow space between the garage and the next-door neighbor’s wood fence. “Beside the garage.”

  “All right.” She nodded. “You go first.”

  “You just wanna check out my ass,” I said, moving in that direction and feeling her eyes on me as she followed.

  “Kick your ass, you mean,” she mumbled.

  “You could try, Lacey.” Reaching the shadows, I turned to face her. “That might be fun. But I’d just win again, and then you’d owe me another favor.”

  “Huh-uh. Only the one.” She fisted her hands on her hips, and the movement plumped her tits.

  I grabbed her by her elbows and yanked her into me, bringing those perfectly rounded beauties into my chest. Lowering my head, I smashed my lips to hers. She gasped into my mouth, and I plundered her sweetness over and over again with my tongue.

  I was done talking.

  Lace

  Dazed, I clutched War’s solid forearms for balance when he pulled his mouth from mine. Aftershocks of pleasure streaked through me, and my legs shook so badly, I could barely stand. I’d been kissed by boys before, but never by one with such desperate need.

  A slight curve tipped up one side of his mouth as he rested his forehead against mine. His breath was warm against my fevered skin. “You feeling me now?”

  “Yes.” I stared into eyes that were as dark as the night sky, and found myself inextricably pulled in.

  “Me and you, Lace.”

  Easing back, he framed my face in his l
arge hands. My skin burned where his connected with mine. Only his rings were cold, and I shivered.

  “War, I don’t think—”

  “You can try to fight this happening between us,” he said, his eyes seeming to burn hotter than his skin. “But it will happen.”

  “Hey, guys,” Bryan said flatly, and I shifted to see him standing in a pool of light beside the garage. “It’s late. My mom texted. I gotta go.”

  “I’ll come with you,” War said as he released me.

  My hands slipped from his forearms, but he captured one before it could fall away. Bringing it to his mouth, he pressed his lips to my skin. Then he tugged me alongside him to where Bryan stood on the driveway, only a few feet away from where we’d been.

  From that vantage point, he would have had a clear view of War and me. How long had he been standing there?

  “How is your mom?” I asked, my cheeks warm at the thought he might have seen War kiss me.

  “She’s fine.” Bryan’s gaze dipped to my mouth, then lifted. His gray-green eyes glittered with fiery emotion of some sort, but I no longer knew him well enough to guess which one. “She works at Seattle General.”

  “She’s a nurse now?” My eyes widened in surprise.

  “Yes,” he said with a nod.

  “That’s wonderful. I remember how much she wanted to be one.”

  “She’s pretty stoked about it.” Yet he frowned, his gaze now focused on where War’s hand and mine were joined.

  “And how are your sisters?” I asked, trying to extract my hand from War’s grip. “Miriam? Ann?”

  “They’re fine.” Bryan seemed reluctant to share. “Everyone’s good.”

  My brother approached us and opened his arms, motioning to Bryan. “Cool seeing you again, Bry.” Dizzy leaned in and slapped his friend on the back. “Almost like old times.”

  “Better, I hope,” Bryan said, his expression somber. “With you two away from all the bad stuff with your mom, I mean.”

  “Yeah, of course it is,” Dizzy said evenly, although not exactly truthfully. Uncle Bruce’s apathy toward us wasn’t all that different from our mother’s. “No more pretend-band shit. We finally have a shot at something real.”