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A dark smile tugs at my mouth.

Only when it comes to you, Bow-Peep.

Surely you can wait another couple of days?

A couple of days feels like an eternity, but I refuse to act like a total weirdo and freak her out with the sheer scale of my pining. I force myself to lock the screen and set the phone down.

Two more days.

Two more days without her, and then I finally get her back.

36

Ellise

JANUARY

“If I don’t fit into my showcase dress, I am officially blaming you.” I groan, leaning my back against the side of his bed. “You and every single cheese-laden, grease dripping nacho on this plate.”

Julian doesn’t even look up from the plate balancing on his legs. His fingers, usually so precise on the ivory keys, are gloriously uncivilised as he scoops another massive mountain of jalapenos and sour cream.

“You’d still be the best fucking thing on that stage, Vance. You know it, and I know it.”

“Even if the zipper literally refuses to go up?!” I challenge, arching an eyebrow at him.

He finally raises his dark eyes, a slow, wicked smirk spreading across his face. “Even better then.” His eyes drop to my chest before rising to my eyes. “Easier access for me backstage.”

“You are an absolute pig, Thorne.”

“And yet here you are, sitting on my floor, pigging out with me.” He grins, taking another bite. “Remind me to hide the evidence. Carmela can’t see all this. She’d be so pissed.”

I still haven’t met Carmela, despite staying here most nights. Though, I can’t wait until I finally do. I feel like I already know her.

It is one of our last scheduled practice sessions before the Spring Showcase, but Julian decided about an hour ago that nachos on his bedroom floor is a better use of the evening.

To be honest, I’m not arguing.

The Nocturne is as close to performance ready as it is ever going to get, and after weeks of wild nights together and gruelling rehearsals, a quiet night feels like heaven.

“Are you actually going to eat anything, or are you going to sit there and cross-examine me all evening?” he teases, using the back of his thumb to wipe a stray bit of cheese drip from the corner of his lips.

Cheeky rascal.

“Maybe,” I say softly, looking at him from under my lashes. “I think I’ll stare at you a bit longer. You’re extremely entertaining when you’re being feral.”

I stretch my legs toward him until my toes find the solid warmth of his thigh.

His grin deepens, a glint catching in his eyes.

“I don’t blame you.” He tilts his head toward the nachos. “Though you are genuinely missing out.”

“I’ll eat later.”

Before he can throw another smart remark at me, I scramble up from the floor and straddle his lap.

“I’d prefer to do this first,” I whisper.

I press my lips to his—a tender peck at first but an open invitation as my fingers tangle in the dark hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. His hands find my waist instantly, as if they were moulded to fit there. At this point, I think they probably were.