I clear my throat and flash him a warm smile then head to the bar. “So, how about that drink? What’s your poison? More wine, a cocktail, champagne?”
To my surprise, he bypasses the expensive bottles of champagne and premium spirits. “Actually, I’d love a beer if you have one. Something simple and cold.”
His unpretentious choice is a refreshing change from the usual requests for top-shelf liquor. It’s yet another glimpse into Kyle’s down-to-earth nature, and I like what I see.
“A man after my own heart,” I chuckle, reaching into the fridge to grab two bottles of craft beer. “Sometimes, nothing beats a cold one, right?”
“Too right.” Kyle nods, a genuine smile lighting up his face as he accepts the bottle from my hand. Our fingers brush, and that electric current surges between us once more. I wonder if he feels it too, or is it my wishful thinking?
I flick on some music and we settle onto the sofa. As we sip our beers, I reach for the room service menu. “So, what do you feel like eating? There’s quite a selection here—steak, barramundi, wagyu burger…”
Kyle leans over, his shoulder brushing against mine as he scans the options. The intimacy sends a shiver down my spine, and I have to resist the urge to pull him closer, to taste those tempting lips.
“Honestly,” he says, looking up, “I feel like pizza if that’s okay.”
I nod in agreement, surprised by his choice again but glad he’s not afraid to voice his preference. “Pizza it is, then. Classic meat lovers, or something more adventurous?”
As we debate toppings, and he gives me shit for wanting anchovies on my supreme, I marvel at the ease of our conversation, the way we get along so naturally. We’re two pieces of a puzzle, fitting together despite our vastly different backgrounds, and with each passing minute, I’m falling deeper under his spell.
A short while later, the room service attendant brings in our pizza, and the aroma of melted cheese fills the suite. We dive into the pizza, the conversation flowing easily. Between bites, I find myself telling him of my recent travels—a visit to LA and a tour of a few Asian cities, plus a ski trip with Rick to New Zealand last winter.
“I’ve never really travelled much,” Kyle admits, a wistful note in his voice. “Just a trip to Fiji when I was a kid, and a few adventures along the east coast. John’s always telling me I should see more of the world, but I guess I’ve just been too focused on the farm. There’re some places I’d like to see, but to be honest, the thought of travelling overseas by myself scares the hell out of me.”
I meet his gaze. “John’s right. There’s a whole world out there waiting for you, Kyle. Endless possibilities and experiences.” I imagine what it would be like to show him places he’s only imagined, to visit places again and see them through his eyes. “There’s no hurry. You’ll know when the time’s right for you to venture out.”
We polish off the last of the pizza and our beers. I rise from the sofa and grab a couple of bottles of water before returning and extending my hand. “Come on, I want to show you something.”
He takes my hand, his touch once again sending a shiver down my spine. As we step onto the balcony, the sight is breathtaking. The night sky stretches out like a piece of black velvet, adorned with a dazzling array of stars that seem to dance in the darkness. The gentle sound of the ocean waves, and the cool breeze with its tangy scent of salt is proof we’re floating around in the ocean.
We settle into the cushioned sun lounges that are placed close together. Soft music drifts through the open balcony doors—an instrumental track that’s a touch mournful and full of emotion. I lean back, my gaze drawn to the stars above.
“It’s beautiful,” Kyle whispers from beside me.
I turn my head.He’s beautiful.“Yeah, it is. The sky is so much bigger out here, so much darker, the stars so much brighter.”
“The universe is letting us know we’re not alone in the world,” Kyle says. “We’re all seeing the same stars, and planets, and the moon. This music suits the mood perfectly.”
“You know,” I say, breaking the comfortable silence that settled over us, “moments like these remind me of why I fell in love with music in the first place.”
Kyle turns to me, his eyes shining in the moonlight. “What do you mean?”
“When I write songs or perform on stage, it’s not about the fame or the money or the adoration of the fans.” I take a deep breath, gathering my thoughts, because it’s hard to put into words. “It’s about the connection, the way music has the power to touch people. I love being part of that process, of knowing my melodies and lyrics can have such an impact. I can’t imagine my life without music.”
Kyle nods. “I guess you feel about music the way I feel about the land. It calls to my soul. Working with the seasons and being part of a process that turns my fruit into wine that brings so much enjoyment—it’s special, even if no one knows who I am.”
His words send a flutter through my chest at the magic of being able to share my passion with someone who gets it. “We have that in common. I don’t need the trappings of celebrity. All I need is my music and the people who matter most to me.”
“Tell me what it’s like being up on stage, why you love it so much,” Kyle says. “I can’t imagine performing in front of so many people.”
“Bloody hell! It’s awesome. The atmosphere is electric. First there’s the anticipation that builds, the sound of the audience waiting for the show to start and the dark stage. Then the lights pulse and the crowd roars and the music takes over. There’s nothing like it. Everything fades into the distance except for the music. It’s hot and sweaty, and by the end, I’m wrung out—physically and emotionally.”
“But you wouldn’t change it for the world.”
My chest tightens. I feel a sudden urge to share more with Kyle, to let him see a part of me that I’ve kept hidden for so long. The words tumble out before I can stop them. “It’s fucked up, but there’s so much I wishwouldchange. Lately I’ve hated getting up on stage. I’d probably cancel all my upcoming concerts if I could.”
Kyle’s eyes fill with concern. “God, Axel, I’m so sorry you feel like that. Do you mind me asking why? It doesn’t make sense given you love performing so much. Is it Rick?”
“It’s not Rick,” I say. “Although it would be good to be around for him more.”
