“I’m fine,” I answer quickly, too quickly. “Let’s just get this over with.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Xayden stand. His movements are slow, deliberate, and my pulse stutters when he starts walking toward me. The others don’t move, and for a moment, it feels like the air itself is holding its breath.
Xayden stops close—too close. His leather-and-pepper scent flares as he leans in, his breath brushing my ear. “You know they have phones, right?” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only I can hear.
I tilt my head up to look at him, my stomach dipping the moment our eyes meet. His smirk is lazy, but his eyes are bright, practically burning with amusement. “Phones?” I echo, my voice faltering slightly, confused.
“Yeah,” he whispers, his tone deep and deliberate, every word wrapping around me. “Crew like this? They’ll sell pictures or videos to the media if they get the chance. You wouldn’t want something… unconvincing out there, would you?”
Heat floods my face, and I try to take a step back, but his proximity holds me in place. Between the memory of Todd earlier and Xayden’s nearness now, my nerves are fraying fast.
“I—” I start, but my words catch in my throat. My pulse thrums harder, my perfume shifting with the emotions twisting inside me.
His smirk widens as his hand lifts, brushing my hair back with deliberate slowness. The gesture shouldn’t feel as intimate as it does, but it sends a shiver down my spine anyway. And then, before I can react, he dips his head and presses a light, fleeting kiss to the corner of my mouth.
The touch is brief, almost chaste, but it sparks like a live wire. My breath hitches, and my scent spikes—sweet and unsteady, betraying the mix of shock and something deeper swirling in my chest.
Xayden pulls back, his smirk deepening when he sees the flush spreading across my cheeks. “Just a thought, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with mock innocence, as though he hasn’t just turned my world upside down.
The air between us feels charged, and I force myself to straighten, even as my stomach does another unsettling flip. “Fine,” I manage. “Let’s pretend.”
I drag him back to me, sealing my lips to his. He sucks in a breath, and I smile against his mouth. Then he takes over, devouring my lips like he's a man dying of thirst and I'm the tall glass of water that's been offered to him.
My legs grow weak, and he gathers me closer.
When he pulls back, his grin is wicked, as he turns away slowly, sauntering to his drum kit like nothing happened. Spinning the stick between his fingers, he tosses it onto the snare with a loudclackand leans back in his seat. “That’s the spirit, sweetheart,” he says over his shoulder.
My gaze flicks to Jake and West, both of whom are watching us with varying degrees of interest. West’s jaw tightens, his fingers flexing against the neck of his guitar, while Jake’s expression remains calm, though his eyes narrow slightly.
I take a steadying breath, my pulse still uneven as I turn away from Xayden. My scent lingers in the air, sweet and tart, impossible to ignore, but I have to push past it. If we’re doing this—pretending—then I have to commit.
Jake’s already watching me, his expression unreadable, though his sage-and-green tea scent feels steady, grounding in a way that makes my nerves run around like a chicken with its head cut off for an entirely different reason. He straightens as I approach, his hands falling to his sides, his gaze unwavering.
I stop in front of him, tilting my head just slightly to meet his eyes. “Your turn,” I say softly, my voice carrying a hint of teasing I don’t entirely feel.
He doesn’t smile, doesn’t smirk like Xayden. Instead, he gives the faintest nod, leaning down, his hands brushing lightly against my arms as his lips meet mine. The kiss is light, restrained, but there’s an undercurrent of heat. For a moment, the world around us fades, and I almost forget it’s for show.
When I pull back, his hands linger, his gaze searching mine as if he’s trying to gauge my reaction. I force myself to look away, to keep moving, because if I stop now, I’ll unravel.
West is next. He stands by his mic stand, still and quiet, his almond-and-whiskey scent washing over me as I step closer. His eyes lock on mine, dark and intense, and my breath catches. He doesn’t move at first, just watches me, his gaze piercing in a way that makes my stomach dip.
“West,” I murmur, trying to break the tension.
He doesn’t respond, not with words. Instead, he steps forward, closing the distance between us in a single, deliberatemotion. His hand lifts to my cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle, but the moment his lips claim mine, the gentleness evaporates.
The kiss is deep, consuming, as if he’s pouring everything he’s ever felt into it. It’s not careful or measured—it’s raw, desperate, like I’m his last breath and he can’t afford to let me go. My knees weaken, and I grip his shirt to steady myself, my heart hammering against my ribs.
When I finally manage to pull away, I’m breathless, my legs unsteady. His hand lingers on my cheek for a moment longer before he lets it drop, his eyes still burning into mine. I swallow hard, his kiss lingering long after it’s over.
“Okay,” I murmur, my voice shaky as I take a step back.
Todd’s voice breaks the silence. “Models are here.”
I turn to see him standing at his mic. His gaze follows me as I retreat, and for a moment, I feel pinned under it.
I take a deep breath, straightening my spine as I step off the stage. My job is to make sure rehearsal goes smoothly, and I throw myself into it with everything I have. Anything to distract myself from the electric storm of emotions still crackling under my skin.
The models begin filtering in, their chatter filling the space, and I fall into the familiar rhythm of managing the chaos. But no matter how hard I try to focus, I can still feel their eyes on me, their scents lingering in the air like an invisible tether pulling me back.
