CHAPTER EIGHT
LONDON

My finger swipes across the screen as I text Casey.

London: If you’re not out here in two minutes, I’m leaving without you.

That’s a complete lie, but I need to get out of here. Since I’m relatively sure changing the melody to a copyrighted song is still a legally enforceable offense, I’m one-hundred percent certain they’re going to sue me. Groan. This is exactly why I don’t like going outside my comfort zone. It’s called a comfort zone for a reason.

“London?” Griffin’s voice startles me and I jump. That wasn’t embarrassing at all. 

I don’t know which is worse, knowing that I let him and everyone else down tonight or the feeling of dread growing in the pit of my stomach. 

I should have played it safe.

“Look,” my voice is shaky and my breath hitches in my throat as I spin on my heel to face him. “I didn’t mean to change it up so much. I just got caught up in the moment. I’m really sor—” The man looking back at me isn’t the pissed off rockstar I expected to find.

“I think what you did with the song was amazing.” 

I can’t lose myself in that smile. “So, you’re not upset? I feel absolutely terrible that I—” His guffaw interrupts me as it echoes through the corridor. “I don’t get what’s so funny.” I purse my lips together, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I’m definitely not upset,” he whispers, leaning in so close that the warmth of his breath against my skin sends a tingly shiver through my entire body. 

Surely that’s just so I can hear him over the sponsor radio station playing overhead… Right?

“I don’t think I could ever be upset with you, if you want to know the truth.” His smirk makes his eyes dance with amusement, and I need him to stop saying things like that. Right. Effing. Now. 

Rockstars… Am I right? “Well, to be honest, that was the absolute best I’ve ever heard you sound.”

He pulls back and stands up straight again. It feels like his lips are being ripped from my soul, but it’s just my ear. 

A stupid ear.

This shouldn’t be an issue.

“I’d like to take that as a compliment,” he chuckles, “but I seem to remember you saying that you’ve only been listening since Wednesday.” He smirks as he cuts his eyes in my direction. “You challenged us all and I loved every second of it.”

I can feel my face twisting up in confusion. I can’t be held accountable for what my face does. Don’t judge me. “Don’t you guys challenge each other every time you’re up there?”

He shrugs and mumbles, “Not really.”

“That’s too bad.”

“I mean…” His gaze shifts from me to the view outside. It’s a beautiful summer night on the other side of the glass exit doors. People are starting to flood the street as they practically pour out of the theater. I can’t even imagine what it must be like to have this many people invested in you and what you do for a living. “We challenge each other in rehearsals and tell each other to pull our heads out of our asses regularly,” he sighs as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. “We’ve pushed each other to our physical limits on stage. You know? Nash will do something crazy and I have to match it, or else the tabloids will say Griffin Miller: Losing His Touch?” He makes air quotes around the made-up headline. “Then we’ll have a meeting with The Machine to remind me that I’m just a single voice in a sea of many.” He takes a deep breath. “Easily replaceable.”

Easily replaceable is something I heard often from Nick before he finally walked out on us. “I hardly think you’re easily replaceable, Mister Rockstar.” Griffin Miller may very well be one-of-a-kind.

“I’m just a dude with pipes, nothing special. Nothing like what I experienced up there tonight,” his voice trembles, but it’s a mix of nerves and excitement. It’s charming.

I am screwed.

He chuckles under his breath, keeping his eyes trained on the floor. “I thought today was going to completely and utterly suck, but here you are… You helped turn this entire day around. I guess I just wanted to thank you for that.”

“I didn’t do anything.” I say, resting my hand against his arm. Holy mackerel. That’s a nice bicep.

The creases in his forehead deepen. “You did, though.”

“How do you figure that?”

His chin sinks a little lower as he rests his back against the wall. “This day always brings a lot of difficult… moments.”

I lean against the wall beside him, letting it hold my weight, so I don’t sink all the way to the floor. “I’m sorry.”

He inhales a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “Our parents died twelve years ago today.” 

My heart immediately seizes inside my chest. His openness makes it difficult to remember that I’m talking to Griffin Miller, lead singer of one of the biggest rock bands in the country, and not someone I’ve known my entire life. I want to take the pain away from him. “I’m so sorry.”

“We kind of dread this day every year, you know?”

I nod.

I can only imagine.

“This business is hard enough, and then when you add unreliable band members it just turns into a circus.”

“That doesn’t sound fun at all.”

He shrugs. “It was supposed to be, you know?”

“You’ve already made a name for yourself. If you hate it, why not just get out of it?”

“I don’t see any way of getting out without leaving the band altogether. We’re locked in for two more albums, including tours.”

“That’s heavy. Do the other guys feel the same way you do?” That is absolutely none of my business. It’s so far out of the realm of my business that I’ve actually lost sight of the point of no return.

“I don’t really know. We’ve never talked about it.” His eyes wrinkle at the corners as his smile returns. “But one thing I do know is that tonight you took the worst of moments and made them something beautiful. So,” he says, resting his hand on my shoulder, “you have nothing to feel bad about. You reminded us all of the magic that can be found on stage. I thought maybe you needed to know that.” 

He’s giving me way too much credit.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his eyebrows pulling together as he studies my expression.

“Define okay.” I’m definitely okay, but I want more than okay. “I miss creating music of my own.”

He nods slowly. “Why don’t you create it then?”

“I don’t know.” I shrug and sink lower toward the floor. “Carter loves music. I really don’t know why I stopped.”

“Carter?” His jaw clenches. “Boyfriend?”

I stifle a laugh and shake my head. “No.” The only reason I don’t create now is because Nick didn’t want me wasting my time. That single comment from him was all it took to undermine my joy in music and give up my dreams.

And, for what?

For some guy who isn’t worth the years I’ve spent thinking about him or his opinions. 

He’s controlled too much of me for far too long, without even being here.

It’s pathetic.

I’m pathetic.

No, I was pathetic.

Now, I’m determined.

Griffin’s gaze shifts, taking in the people walking by. They all seem too focused on checking their phones and comparing pictures and videos from the show to even notice that he’s leaning here right in front of them all. 

I should go, so he can get back to his life. “I really appreciate the chance you’ve given me tonight, but I should go home,” I say as I push myself up from the wall.

A frown distorts his handsome features. “You gave yourself a chance. All I did was notice obvious talent. If someone else didn’t see that same talent…” He shrugs and shakes his head. “Excuse me, and I hope you don’t mind me saying so, but they were just an idiot.”

I can’t help but laugh. Hearing someone validating me and my music after so many years of Nick’s opinion playing on repeat in my head is extremely refreshing.

“But I was actually hoping that…” Griffin drags his hand down the back of his neck and flashes a sheepish grin. “Well, since you said no to the boyfriend question… I mean…”

“What are you trying to ask me?” I pick an imaginary piece of lint off my jeans to give me something to focus on besides the butterflies fluttering in my stomach right now.

He lets out a long sigh and slowly raises his gaze to meet mine. Those chameleon gray eyes are going to be the death of me.

“Hey!” Nigel is yelling and trotting up the corridor from the main auditorium.

Great way to ruin the moment, Nigel. I don’t even know this guy and I’m already over it.

The slope of the theater’s flooring has always been one of its main draws. No matter where you stand in this building, when an act is on stage, you can see them. It’s a beautifully flawless design that hasn’t been used near enough in modern designs. That same design currently has Nigel huffing and puffing like the wolf that blew the three pigs’ houses down. I can’t say that it didn’t have me doing the same earlier.

Griffin groans and rolls his eyes as he turns to face Nigel. “Listen, I’m kind of in the middle of something here. So, if you don’t mind—”

“Actually,” Nigel brushes past him and holds his hand out to me, “I’m not here to talk to you. I want to talk to the girl.”

The girl? I keep my arms folded and scowl at this guy who incidentally has the worst toupee I’ve ever seen in my life. Griffin opens his mouth to say something, but I don’t give him the chance. “I appreciate you taking a chance on me tonight, Mister… Actually, I seem to have forgotten your name. But ‘The Girl’ is not really interested in having a discussion with you right now.”

Nigel takes a step back, clearly dumbfounded.

I might be from small-town Oklahoma but being homegrown has taught me to be unimpressed with what a person has and to focus more on who that person is.

Griffin is trying to hold it together but fighting back the laughter at my retort to Nigel has him on the verge of blowing a gasket. He’s kind of cute when he’s just being himself and not pretending to be the rock god that the media portrays him as. I have to admit the image they give him is less than appealing, but he really doesn’t seem to be that person… at all. He steps in front of Nigel and is so close to me that I can feel the warmth of his breath against my skin when he says my name. 

“London,” he clears his throat and rests his hand on my arm. “I was hoping that you’d let me treat you to dinner as a thank you for bailing our asses out tonight.”

“Oh… Uh…” I fiddle with my peace, love, music, bracelet. “I really appreciate you trying to make me feel comfortable, but I told you before…” His reputation is anything but gentlemanly and I’m not interested in getting a notch on my shag-belt. Yes, I called it a shag-belt. You come up with interesting phrases for delicate topics when you’re a mom. “I’m not looking to be a roadie, or a groupie, or whatever you call it.” I scrunch my nose and cringe as I watch the VIP area line forming. “That’s not my style.” I nod toward a girl who is so trashed her friend is propping her up against the wall and using her own body to keep the poor woman from turning into a puddle on the floor. “It’s never going to be my style.”

“Yes.” He nods slowly. The smirk of amusement grows with each second that passes. “You’ve already told me that.” He leans forward and whispers in my ear. “I’m really glad that isn’t your style.”

What the heck does that even mean? I’m not attractive enough for him? What am I saying? Now there’s nothing wrong with me accepting a dinner invite from someone who has absolutely zero interest in me whatsoever.

Right?

Right.

I give him my best okay, fine look and nod toward Casey who is walking back toward the entrance with her new man, or man for the night. I never really know for sure with her, but I think she might give this one a decent chance. The way she’s leaning into him with her arm linked through his is kind of a new thing for her. She’s usually not the one falling all over the guy, they’re the ones who chase after her. “But she’ll need to come too.” I shrug. “She’s my ride,” I lie.

“Absolutely.” He nods and grins like a kid the night before Christmas. “Anything you want.” He scribbles the name of the restaurant on my hand with the same marker he used for the autograph. “We’ll be here. They closed the place down so the band and crew could have somewhere quiet to eat after the show.” He pauses and draws in a deep breath as his eyes lock onto mine. “I hope you’ll be there.” His smile is so warm and genuine… and vulnerable. It makes my heart hurt and I don’t know why.

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat, because it’s all that I can do as I flip my hand back over to read what he wrote. I can practically see the rubble of my protective walls crumbling at his feet. 

Cherry Street Grill. 

♥ Griffin

555-555-2525

“I hope you’ll use that whether you meet me at the grill or not, but I really hope you come and aren’t just blowing me off.” He winks and nods to Nigel to follow him. They head in the opposite direction of the VIP area. My gaze follows them until Griffin turns the corner and ducks back behind stage.

Did I just agree to let Griffin Miller buy me dinner? “What is his deal?” I ask Casey who is blushing and grinning from ear-to-ear.

 ”I don’t know, London.” She smirks and kisses her new man on the cheek. “I think he likes you. What do you think, Devon?” He gives her a deer-in-headlights look and freezes. ”Oh, come on.” She nudges him in the side. 

“Whatever.” I throw my hands up and clasp them behind my head. “I’m just a little bit more challenging than most of the women he’s used to.” I nod toward Miss Tipsy-pants in the VIP area. “I can’t compete with that. “

“I don’t think you have to compete with that.” Casey purses her lips together. “You did see him go the opposite direction, right?”

“I did, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

“He’s got it bad,” Devon cuts in. “Don’t be too hard on him.” He lets out a low whistle.  “Us guys,” he shakes his head slowly, “we do stupid things when we see the one.”

I make a mental note to ask Casey what the heck is going on between these two.

What if I’m wrong about Griffin Miller?

I drag my hands down my face and probably smear my eyeliner. I don’t even care right now. I just need to figure out what the heck I’m going to do when I get to Cherry Street Grill.