“I do. I mind how people talk about you and how you talk about yourself. You’re worth more than a picture.”
“I mean, look at me.” I flashed a smile and swept a hand over my body. “Who wouldn’t want to get their hands on this?”
“Stop it.” Her jaw ticked as she gritted her teeth. “Stop talking about yourself like that.”
“Like what?” It was stupid, but I wanted her to snap. I wanted something raw and real. A pinch that would convince me I wasn’t stuck in some sort of perpetual dream.
“Like you’re some commodity.”
“But isn’t that what we are? They let us pretend we have all this freedom, and then they start reminding us who has the money. If they want us to dance, we dance. Imagine if we’d told Martin no about changing Fool’s Gambit’s sound. I doubt we would be here.”
“You’d be making music you love.”
“Because that pays the bills, right? Oh, I forgot, your team listens to you. They listen to you so well they’ve been pressuring you to be easier to swallow for years.”
“They want me to do more love songs and wear more trendy looks, but that doesn’t mean I’ll do it. They said it’s my choice.” She stood, her chair jerking across the uneven ground and the table nearly tipping on its side. “Can we drop it? I haven’t seen you in months. If I wanted to talk about work, I’d call Lydia.”
“You really believe that, don’t you? That they give a damn about your opinion?” I don’t know why it made me so mad all of the sudden, pushing the topic. She made it look so easy to brush people off when I couldn’t.
“I’m heading back to the hotel. If you can promise to fucking drop it, you can come with me before the rain picks up again.”
She didn’t give me a chance to answer as she headed down the street, letting the conversation hang like a dissonant unresolved chord aching to be finished. I trailed behind her. She stopped at a corner store to collect an assortment of grapes, cured meats, and cheeses with thick rinds.
I grabbed the most expensive bottle of red wine I could find and placed it on the counter with the rest of our haul. Her eyes snagged on it.
“What?” I was slightly embarrassed but felt like I couldn’t remove the bottle, especially as the worker scanned it and added it to the till. So what? I drank now. No need to make a big deal of it. It would help get me out of my head, relax, and enjoy this visit.
“Nothing.” She sorted through coins and bills, handing over the euros and thanking the cashier in French.
The heavens cracked open releasing a torrent of rain. We drove to the hotel, but even getting in and out of the car left us soaked to the bone, fabric plastered against skin. During theride, we uncorked the wine and shared it as the heater blasted us.
Inside her suite, Avery raced to her bedroom, and I heard the splat of wet fabric on the wood floor. She hadn’t bothered to close the door.
“Hey, do you have anything I can borrow?” I asked, peeling off my shirt and turning to face the opposite wall.
“Sweats okay?”
“If they fit.”
“Of course they’ll fit. We’re practically the same size.” Footsteps came up behind me. “Here.” She prodded my spine with a finger. I turned to take the clothes from her, but she was just in jeans and a basic blue cotton bra.
“Fuck. Avery, you could have at least put on a shirt first.” I looked up to the ceiling, searching for patterns or literally anything to distract me. I was hot all over. From the wine. From the sight of her in front of me in a way I’d imagined a thousand times.
“And let you bitch about catching a cold from making you wait. No thank you.” She huffed, rolling her eyes. “Don’t make it weird. We’re performers. Seeing naked people comes with the territory, and it’s not like I’m even naked. You’ve seen me in a swimsuit dozens of times.”
“You really don’t get it. Do you?” I groaned.
“What? That you have some deep feelings for your platonic wife?”
“Is that really all this is to you? Tell me you really believe that.”
“You were just helping me out. It was about the money.” She went to grab the bottle, avoiding my gaze. “I’m getting a drink. Do you want a drink? This wine is great,” she babbled.
I stepped into her path, catching her wrist as her fingers wrapped around the neck of the bottle. Her pulse raced under my touch. Facing her, I was met with her flaming cheeks. Herdamp hair had soaked the straps of her bra, a few stray rivulets of water rolling down her goose bump pricked skin.
“You really think it was just about the money?” I asked, my voice low.
Her chest heaved as she searched my face. “Why else would you do it?”
