“Any time I get a chance, I head to the beach. Just to walk or sit and stare at the water. There’s something soothing about it.”
“I think science has shown that looking at the ocean can lower your heart-rate and your blood pressure and increase feelings of relaxation.” I bump my shoulder against his upper arm. “It’s healthy.”
“Exactly.”
“I love working, but a vacation to a beach with nothing to do for a week but look at the ocean would be heaven.”
“You’ve never done that?”
“Yeah, once I went to Mexico with some friends. It was more of a party scene though. I’m over that.”
“You don’t like to have fun?”
I know he’s teasing. “No. I’m too old for fun.”
He snorts. “Right.”
“I do like to have fun,” I say slowly. “But…” I pause, not sure what to say. “As a kid, I was a little scattered. Kind of impulsive. Easily distractible.”
“Sounds like a normal kid.”
One corner of my mouth lifts. “Maybe, yeah. But I was very musical and when my parents realized that I had talent, they drilled me that I had to be more disciplined. I had to practice piano and voice for hours every day.”
His eyebrows pull together. “You didn’t like it?”
“No, I did. I loved it. But… I was a kid. I wanted to skip school, go to the mall. Play hockey.”
His frown remains. “You didn’t get to do those things?”
“Not much, no.”
“Shit, Nikki.”
“It takes time to master an instrument. To train your voice. Studying, practicing, performing. It’s not something that happens overnight. Nothing of value comes quickly. You have to work at it.”
He frowns.
Why am I telling him this? I don’t complain about my parents to anyone. I’m grateful for all they’ve done for me and my music career. “It’s okay. My music is really important to me. It’s better if I keep my life structured as much as I can, so I stay focused. Anyway. As for having fun, I spend most of my time working now. Writing. Recording. Dance lessons. Working out.” I roll my eyes. “When I’m on tour, that takes up all my time. When I’m not, there’s a lot of… administrative work, I guess you’d call it. I’m running a business, basically. I always have emails and business shit to deal with and social media. Like, I actually have office hours.”
“Wow.”
“Then there’s money stuff. Fucking spreadsheets. I’d rather eat my own liver than enter numbers—expenses, income, blah blah.”
“Don’t you have an accountant?”
“I do now. For a while I did it all myself. I couldn’t stand how all that boring stuff took me away from doing what I actually love—making music. But…” I shrug. “That’s part of the deal. The job’s not just making music but handling the business of making music.”
He nods, gaze fastened on my face as he listens. “I see why time for fun is limited.”
“Is your life crazy like that?”
He tilts his head. “During the season, yeah, it can be intense. But we find time for fun.” He lifts a hand and touches my cheek so gently. “Like right now.”
My heart bumps. Our eyes meet. There’s a feeling of accord between us. I talk to my mom about this stuff, and sometimes Grayson, but I feel like Marek really gets it.
I want him.
“Talking isn’t working,” I say.
