Read Online My Soul To Keep (Soul Series Book 1) by Kennedy Ryan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kennedy Ryan
Tags: My Soul to Keep
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don’t bother responding. I tighten my ponytail and tug at the cut off T-shirt that is standard issue at The Note. It doesn’t quite reach the waistband of my jeans, exposing a few inches of my midriff.
“Can you still take me to work?” I ask, tucking the red-splattered notice under my jewelry box and turn to face San. “Or should I catch the bus?”
San plops on the edge of my bed, falling back and running his palms over the soft quilt Aunt Ruthie made for me.
“I can take you.” San laces his hands behind his head, grinning with some secret assured to make me grin back. “You may have to grab the bus home if that’s okay.”
“Big date?”
I hope so. San’s date drought has sadly coincided with my arrival. I don’t want him to put his life on hold for me, but I know in many ways he has.
“Something like that, yeah. With Ginny.” He gives me a searching look like he’s not sure how I’ll respond.
“That’s great.” I sit on the bed and lie back beside him until our heads touch. “I like her.”
“She likes you too.” San’s chuckle rumbles against my shoulder. “Once she believed we aren’t sleeping together, and that the idea of screwing you makes me physically ill.”
I grab a pillow and press it over his face. His muffled laugh makes me grin and slide the pillow under my own head as I settle back down on the bed.
“You didn’t have to go that far to convince her.” I tilt my head until I can see his profile. “Physically ill?”
“It took that for her to get the picture.” San flips to the side, propping himself up on one elbow and resting his head in his hand. “She got me an interview with Spotted .”
“That new celebrity video blog thing?”
“Yeah, it’s supposed to be the next TMZ .”
“Like we need another one of those.”
San laughs and rolls his eyes. We have different views of privacy. I believe celebrities actually deserve some.
“Does this mean you’re giving up on singing?” I sit up to search his eyes properly.
We’ve been on the same path since elementary school, even if the last few years I fell several paces behind. The thought that our paths might be forking in different directions scares me a little.
San sits up too, bumping my shoulder with his and leaning his head into mine. He probably already knew this fear before I did. That may be why I’m hearing all of this for the first time.
“I just think I prefer to be on the other side of the camera.” San shrugs. “Well, actually still in front. I’d be an in-studio correspondent, not a car chaser. It’ll still be in the biz, just a different angle. I don’t want it like you do.”
I can’t even deny it. The desire to perform, to entertain, burns so hot inside me I can’t imagine life without the potential to do it. It’s always been that way for me.
“Besides, some people have it, and some people don’t.” San tugs my ponytail. “You, my friend, have gobs of it. People like you and Rhyson got everybody else’s share.”
I stiffen at the name of the man I’ve spent the last week trying to delete from my memory.
“I saw him today at Grady’s.” San’s eyes rest on me, but I don’t look up from the strings I’m pulling on my jeans.
“Really?” My neutral voice.
“Yeah, we go six months at Grady’s without seeing the guy and then run into him twice in a week. I guess they’re close.”
His voice holds a question. The look he levels at me, speculating.
I roll my eyes, debating whether to ignore the bait on that hook or give him the intel he obviously suspects I have.
“I’m telling you this friend to friend,” I say. “Not friend to slimy, Spotted correspondent.”
“I resent that. I can’t believe you’d—”
I cut him off with the look that reminds him I know he traded his goldfish, Hammer, in seventh grade to get elected class president. He is just as ambitious as I am, even if his ambitions are being redirected.
“Okay, okay,” he concedes with a
“Can you still take me to work?” I ask, tucking the red-splattered notice under my jewelry box and turn to face San. “Or should I catch the bus?”
San plops on the edge of my bed, falling back and running his palms over the soft quilt Aunt Ruthie made for me.
“I can take you.” San laces his hands behind his head, grinning with some secret assured to make me grin back. “You may have to grab the bus home if that’s okay.”
“Big date?”
I hope so. San’s date drought has sadly coincided with my arrival. I don’t want him to put his life on hold for me, but I know in many ways he has.
“Something like that, yeah. With Ginny.” He gives me a searching look like he’s not sure how I’ll respond.
“That’s great.” I sit on the bed and lie back beside him until our heads touch. “I like her.”
“She likes you too.” San’s chuckle rumbles against my shoulder. “Once she believed we aren’t sleeping together, and that the idea of screwing you makes me physically ill.”
I grab a pillow and press it over his face. His muffled laugh makes me grin and slide the pillow under my own head as I settle back down on the bed.
“You didn’t have to go that far to convince her.” I tilt my head until I can see his profile. “Physically ill?”
“It took that for her to get the picture.” San flips to the side, propping himself up on one elbow and resting his head in his hand. “She got me an interview with Spotted .”
“That new celebrity video blog thing?”
“Yeah, it’s supposed to be the next TMZ .”
“Like we need another one of those.”
San laughs and rolls his eyes. We have different views of privacy. I believe celebrities actually deserve some.
“Does this mean you’re giving up on singing?” I sit up to search his eyes properly.
We’ve been on the same path since elementary school, even if the last few years I fell several paces behind. The thought that our paths might be forking in different directions scares me a little.
San sits up too, bumping my shoulder with his and leaning his head into mine. He probably already knew this fear before I did. That may be why I’m hearing all of this for the first time.
“I just think I prefer to be on the other side of the camera.” San shrugs. “Well, actually still in front. I’d be an in-studio correspondent, not a car chaser. It’ll still be in the biz, just a different angle. I don’t want it like you do.”
I can’t even deny it. The desire to perform, to entertain, burns so hot inside me I can’t imagine life without the potential to do it. It’s always been that way for me.
“Besides, some people have it, and some people don’t.” San tugs my ponytail. “You, my friend, have gobs of it. People like you and Rhyson got everybody else’s share.”
I stiffen at the name of the man I’ve spent the last week trying to delete from my memory.
“I saw him today at Grady’s.” San’s eyes rest on me, but I don’t look up from the strings I’m pulling on my jeans.
“Really?” My neutral voice.
“Yeah, we go six months at Grady’s without seeing the guy and then run into him twice in a week. I guess they’re close.”
His voice holds a question. The look he levels at me, speculating.
I roll my eyes, debating whether to ignore the bait on that hook or give him the intel he obviously suspects I have.
“I’m telling you this friend to friend,” I say. “Not friend to slimy, Spotted correspondent.”
“I resent that. I can’t believe you’d—”
I cut him off with the look that reminds him I know he traded his goldfish, Hammer, in seventh grade to get elected class president. He is just as ambitious as I am, even if his ambitions are being redirected.
“Okay, okay,” he concedes with a
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