Read Online The Rock Star in Seat by Jill Kargman - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jill Kargman
Ads: Link
across the cavern of gray moonlit space over to the windows where a metal spiral staircase to nowhere hung above us.
“You could put a DJ up there,” he suggested. “Just bring in some machine or forklift and he can spin from the loft.”
“Infuckingcredible,” I marveled. I saw it all unfold. The lights, the crowd, the jaws falling to the paved floor in unison. The promotion.
“What about press, is it okay to have all the—”
“Absolutely. Whatever you need.”
“Really? Finn . . . this is so perfect, I couldn’t have dreamed up a better location for this—”
“Good, it’s yours, then.”
“We’re honestly more than happy to compensate you.”
“Please. Now I’m gonna barf. It’s fine.”
“Okay,” I said, looking down bashfully as I got a good glance at his hot Edward Scissorhandsian leather fencing jacket. Breathe, Hazel.
I watched as Finn’s eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the antique locket around my neck. Finn reached over and barely dusted the skin on my collarbone with his fingers as he lifted the heart-shaped mini-diptych.
“ H, ” he said, simply, after deciphering the extremely calligraphic thus virtually illegible letter engraved on the surface. As he held it delicately in his left hand, he took his right index finger and gently ran it over the curves and seraphs of my ornate initial, following the gentle tracks of the burin, then looking up into my unblinkable eyes. “It’s just beautiful,” he said, studying it.
“It was my grandmother’s,” I stammered. “I was named for her.”
“What’s inside?”
“Uh . . . nothing, actually.”
“Nothing?” he said, lifting his eyes from the charm to meet mine.
“I know, it’s weird,” I admitted with a shrug. “I didn’t really know what to put in it, so it’s just empty.”
To my utter shock he slowly leaned down toward his hand, and as my lungs were unable to squeeze out the CO2, he put his lips to my locket. He kissed it. And in doing so thieved about five beats of my pulse. He stood back up and looked at me with his searing blue eyes.
“I’m not allowed to kiss your mouth, so I’ll kiss your heart.”
Lightning bolt chucked down by Zeus himself electrified my entire being. In that moment, as he let my necklace gently fall from his fingertips back to my clavicle, Finn pressed the pause button on my entire respiratory system. I could barely gather the thoughts let alone the words to make their way to my tongue, so my hand simply found itself taking his. I gave it a doting squeeze then turned away toward the door. “We should go,” I said as my pulse shot through the cavernous ceiling. “I have an early flight.”
“All right, H.”
“Sorry,” I offered, not quite knowing why.
“No need to be,” he said, with a warm, sincere smile. “Anyway,” he added. “You’ll be back soon enough.”
Chapter 16
I don’t want to see pictures of Hollywood stars in their dressing gowns taking out the rubbish. It ruins the fantasy.
—Sarah Brightman
T his time, the plane flew steadily through the crystal blue skies, visibility thousands of miles, liftoff glorious. But if my head were any gauge, it was as if we were flying through the tumbling tumult once again, bumpy and in free fall, nauseating and flirting with ashen sprinklage on some rectangular red state in the middle.
It was Finn’s fault. Fuck. He kept popping up on my screen like a hidden point in one of Badass’s video games—a pixilated pot of gold, a secret weapon stashed in a hidden closet door, a bonus round in life. I tried to highlight and delete him from my brain, only for him to pop up again. And soon enough, somewhere over Utah, I found myself fantasizing about him ravishing me. My problems with him were myriad, though the crux lay tied up in this paradox: Finn brought out the best and the worst in me. He elicited a brilliant streak; I was much funnier with him, more clever, on a quicker setting than normal. He turned me on,
“You could put a DJ up there,” he suggested. “Just bring in some machine or forklift and he can spin from the loft.”
“Infuckingcredible,” I marveled. I saw it all unfold. The lights, the crowd, the jaws falling to the paved floor in unison. The promotion.
“What about press, is it okay to have all the—”
“Absolutely. Whatever you need.”
“Really? Finn . . . this is so perfect, I couldn’t have dreamed up a better location for this—”
“Good, it’s yours, then.”
“We’re honestly more than happy to compensate you.”
“Please. Now I’m gonna barf. It’s fine.”
“Okay,” I said, looking down bashfully as I got a good glance at his hot Edward Scissorhandsian leather fencing jacket. Breathe, Hazel.
I watched as Finn’s eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the antique locket around my neck. Finn reached over and barely dusted the skin on my collarbone with his fingers as he lifted the heart-shaped mini-diptych.
“ H, ” he said, simply, after deciphering the extremely calligraphic thus virtually illegible letter engraved on the surface. As he held it delicately in his left hand, he took his right index finger and gently ran it over the curves and seraphs of my ornate initial, following the gentle tracks of the burin, then looking up into my unblinkable eyes. “It’s just beautiful,” he said, studying it.
“It was my grandmother’s,” I stammered. “I was named for her.”
“What’s inside?”
“Uh . . . nothing, actually.”
“Nothing?” he said, lifting his eyes from the charm to meet mine.
“I know, it’s weird,” I admitted with a shrug. “I didn’t really know what to put in it, so it’s just empty.”
To my utter shock he slowly leaned down toward his hand, and as my lungs were unable to squeeze out the CO2, he put his lips to my locket. He kissed it. And in doing so thieved about five beats of my pulse. He stood back up and looked at me with his searing blue eyes.
“I’m not allowed to kiss your mouth, so I’ll kiss your heart.”
Lightning bolt chucked down by Zeus himself electrified my entire being. In that moment, as he let my necklace gently fall from his fingertips back to my clavicle, Finn pressed the pause button on my entire respiratory system. I could barely gather the thoughts let alone the words to make their way to my tongue, so my hand simply found itself taking his. I gave it a doting squeeze then turned away toward the door. “We should go,” I said as my pulse shot through the cavernous ceiling. “I have an early flight.”
“All right, H.”
“Sorry,” I offered, not quite knowing why.
“No need to be,” he said, with a warm, sincere smile. “Anyway,” he added. “You’ll be back soon enough.”
Chapter 16
I don’t want to see pictures of Hollywood stars in their dressing gowns taking out the rubbish. It ruins the fantasy.
—Sarah Brightman
T his time, the plane flew steadily through the crystal blue skies, visibility thousands of miles, liftoff glorious. But if my head were any gauge, it was as if we were flying through the tumbling tumult once again, bumpy and in free fall, nauseating and flirting with ashen sprinklage on some rectangular red state in the middle.
It was Finn’s fault. Fuck. He kept popping up on my screen like a hidden point in one of Badass’s video games—a pixilated pot of gold, a secret weapon stashed in a hidden closet door, a bonus round in life. I tried to highlight and delete him from my brain, only for him to pop up again. And soon enough, somewhere over Utah, I found myself fantasizing about him ravishing me. My problems with him were myriad, though the crux lay tied up in this paradox: Finn brought out the best and the worst in me. He elicited a brilliant streak; I was much funnier with him, more clever, on a quicker setting than normal. He turned me on,
Similar Books
