Total pages in book: 117
Estimated words: 109318 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109318 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 547(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
He said nothing. Just watched her with a little wrinkle between his brows.
“I’m lying,” she whisper-blurted. “It bothers me.”
His perfect head tilted ever so slightly to one side. “Okay.” He nodded, as if he’d made an important decision about something. “Okay.”
“Okay, what?”
“Nothing.” His gaze ran a lap around her face. “You’re not a lemon, by the way. Not even close.” He squinted, but not enough to fully hide the twinkle. “More of a peach.”
She swallowed the dreamy sigh that tried to escape. “Maybe so. Peaches do have pretty thin skin.”
“Yeah, but they have a tough center.”
Something grew and grew inside of Melody. Something she’d never felt before. A kinship, a bond, a connection. She couldn’t come up with a word for it. Only knew that it seemed almost cosmic or preordained. And in that moment, for the first time in her life, she was angry with her mother for her part in breaking up the band. She could have known this boy sooner? Felt . . . understood sooner?
Someone in a headset approached Beat and tapped his shoulder. “We’d like to get the interview started, if you’re ready?”
Unbelievably, he was still looking at Melody. “Yeah, sure.”
Did he sound disappointed?
“I better go, too,” Melody said, holding out her hand for a shake.
Beat studied her hand for several seconds, then gave her a narrow-eyed look—as if to say, don’t be silly—and pulled her into the hug of a lifetime. The hug. Of a lifetime. In a millisecond, she was warm in the most pleasant, sweat-free way. All the way down to the soles of her feet. Light-headedness swept in. She’d not only been granted the honor of smelling this boy’s perfect neck, he was encouraging her with a palm to the back of her head. He squeezed her close, before brushing his hand down the back of her hair. Just once. But it was the most beautiful sign of affection she’d ever been offered, and it wrote itself messily all over her heart.
“Hey.” He pulled back with a serious expression, taking Melody by the shoulders. “Listen to me, Mel. You live here in New York, I live in LA. I don’t know when I’ll see you again, but . . . I guess it just feels important, like I need to tell you . . .” He frowned over his own discomposure, which she assumed was rarer than a solar eclipse. “What happened between our mothers has nothing to do with us. Okay? Nothing. If you ever need anything, or maybe you’ve been asked the same question forty million times and can’t take it anymore, just remember that I understand.” He shook his head. “We’ve got this big thing in common, you and me. We have a . . .”
“Bond?” she said breathlessly.
“Yeah.”
She could have wept all over him.
“We do,” he continued, kissing her on the forehead hard and pulling Melody back into the second hug of a lifetime. “I’ll find a way to get you my number, Peach. If you ever need anything, call me, okay?”
“Okay,” she whispered, heart and hormones in a frenzy. He’d given her a nickname. She wrapped her arms around him and held tight, giving herself a full five seconds, before forcing herself to release Beat and step back. “Same for you.” She struggled to keep her breathing at a normal pace. “Call me if you ever need someone who understands.” The next part wouldn’t stay tucked inside of her. “We can pretend we’ve been best friends all along.”
To her relief, that lopsided smile was back. “It wouldn’t be so hard, Mel.”
A bell rang somewhere on the set, breaking the spell. Everyone flurried into motion around them. Beat was swept in one direction, Melody in the other. But her pulse didn’t stop pounding for hours after their encounter.
True to his word, Beat found a way to provide her with his number, through an assistant at the end of her interview. She could never find the courage to use it, though. Not even on her most difficult days. And he never called her, either.
That was the beginning and the end of her fairy-tale association with Beat Dawkins.
Or so she thought.
Chapter One
December 1
Present Day
Beat stood shivering on the sidewalk outside of his thirtieth birthday party.
At least, he assumed a party was waiting for him inside the restaurant. His friends had been acting mysterious for weeks. If he could only move his legs, he would walk inside and act surprised. He’d hug each of them in turn, like they deserved. Make them explain every step of the planning process and praise them for being so crafty. He’d be the ultimate friend.
And the ultimate fraud.
When the phone started vibrating again in his hand, his stomach gave an unholy churn, so intense he had to concentrate hard on breathing through it. A couple passed him on the sidewalk, shooting him some curious side-eye. He smiled at them in reassurance, but it felt weak, and they only walked faster. He looked down at his phone, already knowing an unknown caller would be displayed on the screen. Same as last time. And the time before.