Wreck the Halls(29)
Beat thought of how easily Melody could have been yanked out of the car. Or asked something a lot more mortifying than their relationship status. “Hire more security.”
Danielle let out a breath and lifted her phone to her ear. “Good idea.”
Not five seconds later, everyone traveling in the SUV—him, Melody, Danielle, Joseph, a lighting technician, and the driver—seemed to get a text. Then another and another, turning the interior of the SUV into an echo chamber of electronic chimes.
Beat was almost afraid to look, but he did so anyway, watching messages from his friends populate the screen, one by one. Of course, they were texting him with questions. He’d told them nothing about the live stream and they’d obviously missed any promo. In other words, they were finding out in real time on social media.
He started to pull everyone into a group chat, so he would only have to explain the situation once. A blanket message to keep things impersonal and vague, as was his modus operandi. But before Beat could tap out an explanation and get the thread started, a video clip from his buddy Vance popped up, accompanied with a text that read: someone has it bad. Beat tapped the play icon, quickly hitting pause when he saw it was a clip of Melody. Clearly, the footage was taken recently, because she was wearing the same gown.
Don’t watch it. Some intuition told Beat it was a bad idea. But when Melody turned around in the seat to speak with Danielle, Beat couldn’t talk himself out of tapping play again and holding the speaker of his phone closely to his ear.
“How well do you know Beat?” came Danielle’s voice.
“Not well. Not well at all,” responded Melody. Beat held his breath. “I-I mean, I feel like I know him. That doesn’t mean anything, does it? A lot of people probably feel like they know Beat, because he’s so personable. When he looks at you, everything just kind of fades away and . . . yeah, everything just kind of fades away when he’s around, I guess. He’s kind and thoughtful and you’ve seen him. He’s . . . beautiful.”
Those words might have been enough to tell him Melody was harboring a crush on him, but her tone of voice sealed the deal. She may as well have been a devout Catholic speaking about the Second Coming. And his behavior was doing nothing to dissuade the crush, either. Case in point, their hands were still locked together on the seat between them. Two seconds after this footage was recorded, he’d barged into the room and hugged her, because he’d been utterly compelled to . . . touch her in some way. Any way.
Safe to say they were both nursing a crush.
Might as well acknowledge the facts.
Unfortunately, Melody didn’t know his sexual interests were . . . slightly complicated. He came part and parcel with that complication, and he’d decided early in his life, before he even reached adulthood, that he would handle his particular needs privately and keep his social life separate. That included Melody. Most of all Melody.
Stop leading her on, then.
Knowing what he had to do—and doing it—were two very different things. Touching Mel came naturally in a way it never had with anyone else. It felt necessary, like he was making up for lost time. They might have grown up separately, thanks to the Steel Birds breakup, but their mothers’ past kept them tethered, along with something intangible. When they were together, his senses heightened, and his two-dimensional world expanded into three. Like it was supposed to be.
As soon as Beat let go of Melody’s hand, the tip of a blade dug into his chest and twisted. Immediately, he wanted to thread their fingers back together, but he forced himself to keep both hands on his phone, instead, tapping out a message to his friends without really processing any of what he was saying.
Minutes later, when they reached the venue, he was relieved to see a security team of half a dozen men waiting for them just beyond the valet line. But when he climbed out of the SUV and automatically turned to help Melody from the vehicle, one of the guards performed that duty instead and his stomach shrunk in on itself. Briefly, their gazes met over the guard’s shoulder and she quickly looked away, which told Beat she’d felt him withdraw on the ride over.
Of course she had.
And it was for the best, even if his stupid heart was in his mouth.
Realizing the camera was trained on his face, Beat let security sweep him and Melody toward the entrance, forcing himself to prepare for what was to come.
Nothing major. Just a little thing called Armageddon.
Chapter Ten
Melody hadn’t been to an event like this in a long time.
And she’d been more than happy to be left off the guest lists.
Celebrity-held charity galas were over-the-top displays of extravagance—and as soon as they pulled up to the benefit, it was obvious that this one would be no different. Lines of limousines paraded slowly along the curb, passengers alighting to an eruption of camera flashes. Garlands, heavy with blue lights and sparkly crystal icicles, were hung from the entrance of the building, fake snow fluttering down from an unseen source overhead. A frowning, long-haired musician in a tuxedo played a sexy version of “Silent Night” at the edge of the carpet.
“The theme can never be pajama party, can it?” she said, wryly, hoping to make Beat laugh.
The side of his mouth jumped subtly, but he continued to look down at his phone.
Melody wondered if it would make for great television if she hoisted up her dress and hauled ass down the avenue. Ratings spike, anyone? She’d be a meme by dessert.