Aimee and the Heartthrob (7 page)

“Oh.” She dropped her chin. “Yeah, they can. So, what about Nick?”

“I can’t remember Nick and me ever talking about you. But I swear, I never made fun of you.”

“Why would he say that, then?”

Miles shook his head, but he had a hunch it probably had to do with his reputation—even if it was epically exaggerated. “I’m not sure,” he said. “Think it could’ve been a misunderstanding?”

“Doubtful. It was like he was purposefully trying to get me to stop liking you.”

Miles lifted an eyebrow. “Did it work?”

“Like a frickin’ charm.”

He wasn’t crazy about that answer, or how fast Aimee had replied. If she had feelings for him once, they sure as hell were gone now. “Well, that’s a relief. There’s a code, ya know.”

“Code?”

“About best friends and sisters.”

“Like that matters. There’s no need for any code because there’s nothing between us.” She blinked up at him, her brown eyes softening for the first time. “Right?”

“Um, right. Of course. Nothing.” He looked down at his shoes as an awkward silence filled the room, which was also filling with her perfume, making it hard for him to focus on that code. “Well, again, I hope you know I’d never hurt your feelings on purpose. I’m not that guy.”

“I didn’t think you were, Miles,” she said quietly.

At her words, an unexpected sizzle filled his chest and fanned out. And when she lifted her big brown eyes up to him, that sizzle turned hot and headed dead south, causing him to stare at her mouth. “Thanks,” he made himself say with a smile. When Aimee Bingham smiled back, he felt like he’d won a Grammy. “So…you think I’m cute?”

“What?”

“You said when you had a crush on me, you thought I was cute.”

“Thought,”
she said. “Emphasizing the past tense of the verb. As in
the past
.”

He couldn’t help snickering. “Ah, so you don’t anymore? Not even a little?” He flashed her a smile, the same one that got huge fangirl screams during a show.

But Aimee didn’t scream. “You’ve got the biggest ego,” she said, though her voice was playful.

“That’s what they tell me.”

“At least
that
hasn’t changed.”

He laughed again, enjoying the banter. It felt so familiar, and at the same time, like a breath of fresh air in a life he hadn’t realized was going stale. “I really think this could be a cool couple weeks, you being here with me—with the band, I mean. All of us, the tour.”

Aimee laughed quietly and tucked her hair behind one ear. “You think?”

“
I
think it’s a raging bash, of course. And most everyone, the crew closer to our age, at least, seems to have a good time.
You’ve
just gotta loosen up.”

She planted her hands on her hips. “I’m loose.”

“Yeah, right.”

“I am. See?” She wiggled her arms around like her bones were made of jelly.

“Ahh, very loose. My mistake.” He grinned. “I can see how it hasn’t been fun for you so far. You know three people here: Nick, Mum, and me. Nick’ll be busy twenty-four-seven, so you’ll never really get to hang with him. And I’m sure you don’t want to kick it with Mum, even when she’s not busy running the fan club.”

Aimee shrugged. “Your mom’s awesome but, yeah, probably not.”

“Guess that leaves me.”

“You?”

“Sure. We can have fun, you know, together.”

“What about Nick?”

Yes, exactly. What about Nick? Hell, it wasn’t like Miles was making a move on Aimee. And it wasn’t like he was looking to jump into a relationship with anyone. No way, not with the burn of Kelly and Paige still fresh in his mind.

“I don’t mean
together
together,” he said. “I mean as friends.”

“Well…”

“It’d be different if you still had a crush on me—which you don’t.”

“No, I don’t.” The protest sounded so defensive, he almost laughed.

“What do you say, then? Friends?”

She narrowed her eyes, looking skeptical. “What does it mean to be friends with Miles Carlisle on tour?”

“Full access to me, day or night.” He opened his arms wide, wondering what he’d do if she fell right into him. But Aimee took a tiny step back, so he dropped them. “Kidding. You can go everywhere I go, hang out with me, get up close and personal with S2J.”

“
Such
an ego.”

He laughed every time she jabbed him like that. “Of course you can do your own thing, but if you’re bored, come find me and we can hang out. We do have downtime.”

“Like now?”

“Actually, I’m supposed to be at a post-show press junket.” He nodded toward the door. “Interview, remember?”

“Oh, gosh. I totally pulled you away from that. Sorry!”

“Don’t worry.” He laughed and opened the door, glancing at her as they walked down the hall. How was it that he felt so comfortable around her? Like he could tell her anything—this interesting, stunning, sassy girl with her hair pulled up, who smelled better than an English garden. It was a damn good thing he was so over trusting women with his personal life. Or with his heart. And an even better thing that she was Nick’s sister. Even if he wished she wasn’t.

Chapter Six

After Aimee said good-bye to Miles at the entrance of the banquet room set up for the interview, she went to stand in back, curious to hear but not wanting to be in the way. This was for magazines, so there were no cameras, just people asking the band questions.

Miles looked so cute, squished on a couch between Will and Trevin. He was polite, too, a gentleman. A fricking
sexy
gentleman with the biceps of a Harvard crew rower and a smile that truly made her heart throb. Ya know, if she chose to notice any of that.

One of the reporters asked if the guys were composing new songs. They all said yes. Interesting. She hadn’t known that, but she liked it, seemed so grown up that they were all writers.

“Looks like that went well.”

Aimee turned to Deb. “What do you mean?” she whispered.

Deb nodded toward the band. “Your little talk.”

“Why do you think it went well?”

“Because
you’re
finally smiling.” She gestured at Miles. “And that boy is grinning like a golden retriever.”

Aimee dropped her smile self-consciously.

“Hey, don’t worry.” Deb bumped her shoulder. “I won’t tell anyone your little secret.”

“What secret?”

“I said, don’t worry.” She winked and walked away.

The next question was about the tour, how it was stretching all the way through the summer. LJ was talking now, explaining that they’d be recording their next album sometime in the fall, then there would probably be another tour to promote that.

Jeez. After her three weeks here, she’d probably never see Miles again. Like, ever. The realization made the tiny part of her heart that was starting to let him in stack up a new layer of bricks.

She was so stupid. It was a complete waste of time to even consider any kind of
anything
with him. Aimee had let herself get hurt before, and she wasn’t ready to go through that again. Before the interview was over, she elbowed her way to the exit.

…

The next morning, after some good old-fashioned emotional rewiring and a great night’s sleep in a regular bed, Aimee wandered down to the hotel lobby, ready to face Miles with absolutely no feelings.

Looked like Seconds to Juliet were just finishing another interview and were surrounded by fans waiting for autographs. Those poor guys, didn’t they ever get a break?

Trevin waved at her and Miles broke from the group after signing some girl’s magazine cover. As he approached, Aimee wondered if he’d look at her any differently, now that they’d gotten all that stupid-ass crush stuff out in the open.

“Hey, Aimee,” he said.

The second he spoke, Aimee’s heart froze in her chest, then it started to bang.
No, heart, no. Not supposed to happen
. Miles pushed up the sleeves of his blue button-down, and she tried not to notice the corded muscles of his forearms.

“Hi,” she said, surprised she’d managed to get the single syllable out around her tied tongue and dry mouth. In the effort to not notice his arms, she looked at his shirt, and definitely didn’t notice how it was unbuttoned enough that she could see his long collarbone. Her heart gave another hard bang.

Calm the hell down, heart
.

“You look nice.” He gestured at her dress.

She thanked him and reminded herself that she hadn’t worn this dress because she’d seen how he’d checked out her legs the other day. No, it was just the closest one in reach when she’d gotten dressed.

“Will you be backstage at the show tonight? Same spot?” he asked, giving her one of his heartthrobby smiles. “I ask because I wouldn’t want to run into you like that again.” Had his eyes just shot…there? Gah. And now her face was probably bright red.

“Sorry about that,” she said. “No one told me you’d be coming out.”

“I’m joking. It’s cool you’re backstage. I liked seeing you.”

She tried to hold back the smile she knew was about to smear across her mouth, pleased that Miles was happy she was anywhere he was.
Stupid, stupid.
“Yeah?”

“Always nice to see a friendly face.” He nudged her shoulder. “Friend.”

The way he said it, with a twinkle in his already too-twinkly blue eyes, made Aimee feel twinkly, too. “Um, sure, I’ll be there. Not like I have anywhere else to go. Where are you off to now?”

“Group writing session, all of us together, with a professional writing coach.”

“Like a collaboration?”

“Yeah. It’s not a closed meeting or anything, so if you’re free, you should come.”

He slid his hands in the front pockets of his black pants, which looked like they were made of wool because they had a thick white stripe weaving through the threads. No, they were checkered, black and brown and gray. He wasn’t wearing a belt, but his pants had three buttons. And a zipper fly…

Aimee caught herself before she stared too long at that region of his, um, outfit. “Won’t the others mind if I’m there?” she asked, feeling like she needed to stick her face in a freezer.

Miles shrugged. “No clue. Don’t know why they would.”

She should tell him no and go back to her room to finish reading, or lie on her bed, stare at the ceiling, and remind herself why she shouldn’t like him or notice how just thinking about his muscles or smile or
fly
made the back of her neck go all dewy.

“Sure,” she said instead. “Sounds fun.”

“We’re meeting in that big room by the exit. I’m gonna run and change. Meet you back here?”

Aimee didn’t bother controlling her smile. “Okay.”

While she waited, she played on her phone, checked Reddit and Insta to see what was going on in the world. Her tweet from last night spawned over fifty replies. She didn’t read any of them. No calls from Becky, though, which was strange. She must’ve been really sick to not be online. Or maybe she’d read the tweet and was super pissed.

Aimee felt a twist in her stomach, and was about to text Becky, when Miles appeared. He’d traded his dressier clothes for dark jeans and a plain white T-shirt. Again, her mouth definitely did not water when she noticed how the shirt clung to his perfect chest, or his jeans to his perfect boy butt.

“Ready?” He was holding a notebook.

Still intimidated by her surroundings, Aimee sat way in the back of the room, as far from the band as possible. There were two other men with them, the writing coaches. In turn, each of the guys volunteered what they’d been working on. Some were lyrics or a melody or just a few lines or an idea.

Maybe Aimee was biased, but Miles came up with the best ideas. His lyrics were happy and sweet with clever rhymes. If ever they got too sweet, Ryder jumped in with a line that swung it the other way, sexual but subtle enough that you really had to pay attention to the word play.

Those two would probably make a good writing team.

After a few hours, they broke apart to work individually. Miles stood and stretched, grabbed a guitar and notebook, and headed toward the door.

It was obvious he’d forgotten she was there. Aimee’s stupid heart sank as she shrank into the woodwork, feeling awkward and left behind—which was exactly what she should’ve expected, counting on a guy like Miles, or any guy. But after handing off a sheet of paper to Trevin, Miles walked straight to her.

“Hey.” His hair was sticking up in back. He looked worn-out and adorable. “Sorry if that was boring.”

How could he make her shoot from tragic to happy in two seconds? “I wasn’t bored at all,” she said. “It was fascinating. The way you guys play off each other.”

“We’ve got a good system. It’s fun but bloody draining.”

“I can imagine.” She wanted to reach out and brush the hair from his eyes. “Well, I know you have more work to do, so—”

“You don’t have to go. I was just about to find another room that no one’s claimed and mess around. I’ve got some ideas I didn’t share with the others, and you can tell me if they’re complete crap or not.” He gestured toward the hall. “Coming?”

Of course she was.

They found a room not too far away. Miles placed himself at a small table a few feet in front of him, notebook open, right in front of a window showing a clear blue sky.

Aimee hung back by the door. “Where should I go? Want me out of the way or…”

“No, I want to see you. Right in front of me, please.”

She pressed her lips together, trying so hard not to feel over-ecstatic or read into anything that wasn’t there. “Okay.” She pulled a chair to the other side of the table. Miles had his guitar out, strumming his long fingers over the strings.

“Here’s something I’ve been working on.” Hearing him sing and play was magical. He was so good, so amazingly bril. Ever since she’d known him, he’d been singing, but he’d gotten so much better. Which shouldn’t have surprised her—he was in the most popular singing group on the scene. Of course he was a beast at it.

“What do you think?” he asked.

“It’s really good. You wrote that?”

He scribbled in his notebook then scratched it out. “It’s been floating around in my head for a while, but I can’t get it right.” He sang through the first verse, glanced at Aimee, then wrote something else down. “How about this?” He sang through it again, but the lyrics were slightly different, warmer. It gave Aimee multiple yummy head-to-toe tingles.

“I like it.”

He sang the chorus next, changing the lyrics, tweaking as he went, stopping every so often to jot it down. Aimee was mesmerized, watching as he wrote in silence for a few minutes, his sexy expression of concentration.

No, not sexy. Not sexy at all.

“Okay,” Miles said, pulling her out of her inner argument. “I’m gonna go through the first part. It’s still not finished, but it’s something.”

Aimee blew out a quiet breath, trying to still her heart, positioned herself in her seat, and listened. The song was cheery and sunny, and it had the perfect romantic hook. Plus, the way Miles looked at her while he sang, gazing into her eyes all intensely and dreamily… She knew he was just rehearsing on her, but she couldn’t shoo away the butterflies that filled her stomach every time their eyes met.

“So?” he asked at the end.

“It’s only amazing.”

He sat back and wiped his forehead, like he’d been unsure. “You think?”

“Totally.” She leaned forward, her elbows on the table between them, wondering what it would be like to touch his hand, those perfect, musical hands. “It’s so…you.”

He stared at her for a moment, then laughed and dropped his gaze to his notes.

“What’s the matter?” she asked, wondering if she’d said something wrong.

“Nothing, nothing.” He rubbed his jaw. “I’ve had trouble writing for a while. That’s why I didn’t share this with the guys earlier. It wasn’t ready, it’s still not ready. It’s two verses and a chorus without a bridge or an ending, but at least I’m writing again. Being here like this”—he paused and nodded at her—“made it almost easy.”

The way he gazed at her, like when he’d been singing, made her lightheaded.

“I think it would be better on piano, though,” he added.

“I can see that. More mellow and soulful.”

“Too bad I don’t play piano.” He strummed his guitar, picking the intro to “Purple Rain.” “I might have better luck if I were more versatile. The piano would help.”

“You could learn,” Aimee suggested.

“Someday maybe.” He laughed under his breath and strummed again. “Prince can play every instrument known to man. He writes, produces, and arranges all his tracks. Bloody amazing.”

“You played trumpet in the marching band. That’s versatile.”

“I guess, but that was a long time ago.”

She couldn’t help looking at his mouth, his lips, imagining how skilled they must be from the trumpet. When her head felt like it was about to float away from her body, she said, “Prince is still your favorite singer?”

“Still?”

She crossed her legs under the table. “You and Nick blasted his music nonstop. I had no idea who he was, but Mom and Dad did.”

“Wish I could be ashamed of that, but the man’s a musical genius. His record from last year rivals any of the retro stuff. Freakin’ unreal. If I could write like him…” He shook his head. “Anyway, this was a productive session. I really needed it. Thank you.” He stood and gathered up his notes, ready to leave.

But Aimee wasn’t ready. She’d loved being with him like this, seeing this side of him. Not her brother’s best friend, not the boy she’d had a crush on back before she knew what really liking someone meant. He wasn’t the boy on TV or the face in the magazines or the voice on the radio.

He was a musician. If she wasn’t careful, she’d fall for this guy, too, then be crushed all over again.

“Thanks for letting me be here.”

“Anytime,” he said. “I mean it. You were my muse today. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

…

Miles was anxious to get to the bus, rewrite his notes, and make sure he got the fraction-of-a-song down before he lost it. He hadn’t felt this inspired in months.

Once on the empty bus, he headed straight for the back—the makeshift recording room. For the next hour, he feverishly laid down a quick demo, not wanting the burst of creativity to disappear before his iPhone could record it. When he was done, he looked down at his notes. He hadn’t realized he’d jotted Aimee’s name in the corner.

“’Sup, Kilo,” Trevin said when Miles came out of the back. “Been recording?”

“Yeah.” Miles dumped his notebook and phone on his bunk. “Something new. I wrote it after the group session.”

“When you were with Aimee?”

He paused over his guitar case. “She was in there with me, yeah, but…”

Trevin laughed. “Hey, no judgment here. It’s probably natural for you to write love songs about her.”

“We’re just friends.” The words sounded like a broken record, because he’d been repeating them over and over in his mind. “She just happened to be in the room when inspiration struck. It was cool having someone there to play for, get that instant reaction.”

“And what was her instant reaction, buddy?”

Miles couldn’t help picturing the way she’d looked at him when he sang it through the last time. The big smile on her face, the way her smile made him feel…alive. “She really liked it.”