Page 29 of Forbidden Heart

“Don’t be rude,” JJ tells him as he cues up another performance.

Silas grunts.

“It’ll be here in the morning,” Charles adds.

Huh? It takes me a second to realize that he means the couch. Which he apparently ordered by text message from some underground couch market. Or wherever it is you can text to get fancy furniture delivered within hours.

The guys don’t seem surprised, and I wonder if they all have people they can text to get couches at a moment’s notice. Maybe they do.

“Ready?” JJ asks, and when we all nod, he hits play.

We watch video after video, analyzing performances—gasping, cheering, and criticizing each of the singers in turn. We talk about parts we loved, notes they could have hit better, and places where there’s room for improvement.

Soon, I even manage to forget Silas is there. Or if not forget, then at least get so lost in the music that I find myself contributing as much as the guys. The Dark Prince even agrees with my opinion from time to time, and I start to feel like I really belong.

We get takeout—Chez Caviar, since Charles orders it while we’re busy analyzing a video—and when it’s time to call it a night Silas somehow ends up in a sleeping bag on the floor. Then, the TV’s off, the lights are dimmed, the guys start getting ready to bed, and I feel my first wave of panic since Silas got here. Because, suddenly, I don’t feel so safe anymore.

The moment Charles offers to take the couch, I rush into his room and lock the door. I don’t even brush my teeth. I then spend the time it takes me to fall asleep hoping I won’t wake up in the middle of the night and have to pee.

In the morning, I listen to the sounds of the guys getting up and moving around. They talk in hushed voices, one of which is distinctly Silas, and I pretend to be asleep until I hear the front door open and shut several times. Until I no longer hear Silas. Until I’m sure he’s finally gone.

Moving on tiptoe, I cross Charles’s room and slowly unlock the door. I don’t dare breathe as I inch it open, but the living room is empty and the apartment remains blissfully silent. I’m safe.

I run to the bathroom—more out of desperation than fear—then head back to Charles’s room to get dressed for the day. I decide on jeans, a tank top, and my now dry flats—comfortable and casual, and then head to the kitchen to grab some breakfast.

“Morning!” The greeting, spoken from directly behind me, makes me shriek. I spin around, eyes wide, heart pounding, only to come face-to-face with JJ.

“What’s the matter?” he asks, frowning at me.

“N-Nothing,” I tell him, my hand pressed against my chest as I wait for my wildly pounding heart to slow. “You just startled me.”

“I scared you,” JJ corrects.

Quietly, I nod.

“Is this because of your father?” JJ asks.

I know I should tell him I’m scared of Silas, but he’s JJ’s friend... and he’s in his a cappella group. Plus, JJ will probably remind me of how Silas apologized, or tell me I’m overreacting. And if I explain what happened down in the garden, he’ll know I’m the reason Silas was covered from head to toe in scratches.

And JJ’s right. I’m still afraid of Father finding me here—of him coming after me—so I nod.

“We can’t always be there to protect you,” says JJ softly.

My heart fills with panic. Is he trying to tell me something? Did he find out I’m not allowed to stay in the dorms? Does this mean I’m going to have to leave?

Without another word, JJ spins me around so I’m facing away from him. Suddenly, I’m looking toward the kitchen, the same way I was when he snuck up on me. I’m about to ask what we’re doing when he grabs my wrist. His warm touch and strong grip make my body tingle all over.

“Make a fist,” he instructs me.

He moves closer, and my mind goes blank. I forget about everything except how close JJ is, and how my body is responding to him less than twenty-four hours after it responded to Tate’s.

“Make a fist,” JJ repeats, more insistently this time.

He’s standing so close his breath caresses my ear. I shiver as I absently make a fist. What are we doing again?

“That’s wrong.” JJ steps around me, facing me. “Here.”

I watch as he unwraps my fingers from around my thumb and reforms my fist with my thumb on the outside. His touch shoots tingles up my arms, but JJ looks serious, not flirtatious.