chapter 12

I'M A BIT OF A nervous wreck by the time someone knocks on my door the next day. Knowing Dex would be dropping by, I spent the whole morning cleaning, even though my condo barely needed it. Now every surface is sparkling, and Margot is sitting on the couch in a patch of sunlight, eyeing me warily as I head toward the door.

I picked my outfit carefully; I didn't want to come across as trying too hard, but I obviously wanted to try , even if just a little. After trying on a few different outfits, I opted for black leggings, a white tee, and a lightweight denim jacket. Back home I'd be wearing a knitted sweater and fuzzy socks right about now, but unlike Colorado, Cali is unusually warm today.

Peeking through the peephole, I confirm it's Dex. My heart starts to pound, and I take a steadying breath before unlocking and opening the door .

Dex looks up when the door opens, and it's almost painful how sexy he is. He's wearing a fitted white tee, ripped jeans, and sneakers, and half of his thick blond hair is pulled up in a messy topknot. My eyes are drawn to the heavy black ink adorning almost every inch of skin on his arms.

"Hey," he says, and my gaze darts back to his face. He holds up my car key, and I notice my Honda parked in the driveway behind him. "Brought her back safe and sound."

"Thank you." I hold out my palm. He drops the key into it, then slips his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

We stand there for a second, neither of us saying anything, and I realize he has nowhere to go. There's no fancy driver idling at the curb, no Jordan in her white Mercedes waiting to pick him up.

"Um, do you wanna come in?" I open the door a little wider and gesture vaguely into the condo. It seems I'm not nearly as confident around him when I don't have vodka burning through my veins.

Dex glances over my shoulder, then nods. "Yeah, sure."

Stepping back, I hold the door open and let him in. He takes one look at my condo, with its shiny floors and countertops, and immediately takes off his shoes and leaves them by the door.

Heart pounding, I close and lock the door, then turn to face him. My mind is scrambling, trying desperately to come up with something to say, but Dex isn't even looking at me.

His attention is on Margot, who's glaring at him from across the living room, probably deciding if she's going to hold her ground or dash to my bedroom and hide under the bed until the strange man is gone .

"You must be Margot," he says, voice gentle.

A burst of joy goes through me when I realize he must know her name from looking at my photos on Tribe. Somehow, I'm surprised he cared enough to read my captions, let alone remember my cat's name.

Dex approaches her slowly. Squatting down beside the couch, he offers her his hand. She sniffs it for a few seconds, pauses as if deliberating, and then allows him the honor of scratching her chin.

"Wow," I say, blinking in genuine surprise. "She usually doesn't like people."

"Takes after you, then?" Dex shoots me a look over his shoulder, his lips pulling into a smirk.

"Ouch! I didn't realize you were coming over here to bully me." The words slip off my tongue easily; I think this is the first time I've bantered with him, and it feels almost... normal.

"It's not an insult," he says, giving Margot one last scratch under the chin and then standing to his full height, which requires me to look slightly upward. "I don't like people either."

I arch a brow, finding it hard to believe that someone so charismatic as Dex Reid could dislike people. "Why?"

"They're fake. They all want something from you." There's a hint of bitterness in his voice, but I don't know him well enough to dig.

I suddenly recall what he said on the rooftop lounge about wearing his sunglasses so people won't talk to him. Yet again, I'm reminded that people—especially rock stars—aren't always what they seem .

"You hungry?" I ask, heading toward the kitchen in hopes of distracting myself from his tatted forearms and this slightly stilted conversation.

"Starving." He takes a seat on a stool at the kitchen counter, and looking over at him, I almost have to pinch myself.

Dex Reid is in my condo. In my kitchen. Waiting for something to eat.

"What?" he asks, and I tear my eyes quickly away.

"Um, what do you want?" I yank open the refrigerator and stare at the contents, but my brain feels like mush around Dex.

"Anything," he says.

I spot the dark chocolate pistachio bars I made a couple nights ago and pull out the Tupperware. "You like chocolate?"

He laughs. "Is that a real question?"

Rolling my eyes, I push the refrigerator door closed with my foot, pop the top off the container, and slide it across the counter to him. His eyes go wide as he reaches in and picks one up.

"What is this?"

"Chocolate pistachio bars. You're not allergic to nuts, are you?"

"Nope." His eyes meet mine. "Are you?"

It sounds like an innocent question, but the gleam in his eye changes its meaning, and I break eye contact quickly.

" No , I'm not." I reach into the Tupperware and snag a chocolate square for myself, then lean back against the kitchen counter as Dex tries one.

He takes a tentative bite, and his eyes light up. He eats two more in quick order .

"Did you make these?"

I nod, feeling slightly flustered. It's not often I get to share what I make with someone else; usually it's just me and Margot. "I like to cook and bake."

"You can cook for me anytime."

His words send pleasant heat curling through my belly, and I imagine, just for a moment, what it would be like to be with him, truly. Cooking him meals, spending days with him, crawling into bed together at night.

The thought is too perfect, and I banish it as quickly as it arose.

Dex is not the settling-down type. I need to get that through my head.

He turns from the bar to look into the living room, which is awash in warm afternoon light. I quickly scan the space for anything dirty or out of place, but I gave it such a thorough clean this morning, even the throw pillows are perfectly fluffed.

"Nice place," he says, his eyes cutting to mine, and I briefly assess whether he's making fun of me.

Given his level of fame, I imagine he must live in some multimillion-dollar high-rise somewhere. In comparison, my one-bedroom condo must look drab. But he doesn't smirk or arch a brow or do any of the things I've come to expect when he's playing around, so I take his compliment seriously.

"Thanks. It's the first place that's really mine." My gaze sweeps through the kitchen and living room, and even though it's just a humble home, I'm proud of it. I've worked hard for it.

Dex stands up, his ripped jeans hugging his long legs flatteringly, and meanders into the living room. Starting to feel nervous again, I busy myself with putting the remaining chocolate bars away and wiping down the counter, even though there's not a crumb or smudge to be found. My hands just need to do something, otherwise they might try to touch him again, like they did last night.

"No fucking way." Dex's voice is incredulous.

My gaze darts to him. "What?" Panic flashes through me, but I can't think of a single embarrassing thing I would've left out in the living room.

He bends over to grab something from my TV stand, and when he straightens back up, he's holding my copy of Legend of Volthorn .

"You do not game," he says, eyes deadly serious.

I rinse the dishcloth in the sink and hang it over the edge of the basin. "I do," I say, turning to face him and leaning back against the sink. "Why? You play?"

"Do I fucking play," he mumbles, shaking his head and grabbing one of the controllers from the PS5's charging station. "I'm a grand sorcerer."

My eyes roll of their own volition. "You are not. I've still not even reached archmage, so there's no way you're a grand sorcerer."

A beat of silence passes.

Dex is looking at me more closely now, like he's studying me, trying to ingrain my freckles into his memory. He holds the controller in one tatted hand and regards me through slightly narrowed eyes for long enough that I squirm uncomfortably and glance away.

"What?" I whisper.

He opens his mouth, then shuts it and chuckles to himself. "Nothing. "

Ugh, I hate that—when someone obviously wants to say something but either decides not to or chickens out at the last second, leaving you forever wondering what was on their mind.

"Come on, tell me." I push away from the sink and take a few steps toward him "What were you going to say?"

His tongue darts out to flick his lip ring, and I try not to think of how his lips felt pressed against mine last night, how his hands felt so at home tangled in my hair.

"People don't usually surprise me," he finally says, and when his blue eyes meet mine, they look... different. Unguarded.

It makes my heart flutter.

He stares at me for a second longer, then turns and plops onto the couch with Margot. "Come on." He holds the controller out to me, one sandy brow arching up. "Show me what you've got, archmage ."

Despite my nervousness, I step into the living room and take the offered controller. Margot is taking up a much-larger-than-cat-size space on the couch, which leaves a small spot right next to Dex for me.

I sit down, thinking Dex will move over to make me a bit of room, but he stays right where he's at, and that smirk is back on his mouth now, which tells me he knows exactly what he's doing and is doing it on purpose .

Not that I should be surprised.

I hit the PS button on the controller, and as the console turns on, I smile. "Watch and learn, novice ."

"Wicked combo," Dex says from beside me on the couch. He's leaning forward, elbows on his knees, his eyes wide and glued to the TV screen.

My elf mage casts another spell, freezing her opponents in place, and then she destroys them with a blast of crackling white-blue lightning.

The XP bar goes up, and a tornado of light surrounds my character as she levels up—this time to a real grand sorcerer.

"Fuck." Dex sits back on the couch, smiling easily. "You're a little monster."

My cheeks heat up at his compliment, and he must take notice, because he slips one arm onto the back of the couch—not quite around my shoulders, but close enough that it feels like it—and smirks down at me.

"That's what I'm gonna call you now," he says confidently. "Little Monster."

"Little Monster?" I ask skeptically, pretending to dislike it when in reality I'm dying of joy inside. No one's ever given me a nickname before—or at least not a cute one.

"Yes, Little Monster ." He leans closer, and his gaze moves from my eyes to my lips, setting me on fire inside.

From the back of the couch, he reaches down and snags a strand of my hair, and I try not to let out a sigh of contentment as he starts twisting the lock around and around his finger. I want him to grab my hair and pull me in, crush his lips against mine, and—

My gaze flicks to the clock on the living room wall, and a jolt goes through me.

"Shit! "

I jump up, dropping the controller onto the couch, and Dex sits back, his brow furrowed in surprise.

"What?"

"My concert! I have to get ready. I can't be late."

I can't believe I let the time slip away from me. I've never been late to a rehearsal or concert— ever . And I refuse to start now.

Rushing toward my bedroom, I realize suddenly that Dex Reid is still lounging on my couch. I turn back toward him, and he's looking at me while absentmindedly scratching Margot behind the ears.

Sitting in my living room in the fading afternoon light, he looks... unreal. Like an oasis mirage in the middle of the desert.

"Do you wanna come?" I ask suddenly. I'm not sure where the question even came from, but I find myself resistant to letting him leave, to being parted from him.

In his moment of consideration, I feel foolish. It's best not to ask questions that could lead to disappointment, embarrassment, or—

"Yeah. Sounds cool."

Startled and surprised, I blink once, twice. He just keeps looking at me, scratching Margot on the head. Her purring fills the living room, and there's a swelling of affection in my heart for him.

Stop , I scold myself.

He's not the guy next door or a fellow musician in my orchestra; he's a celebrity, a rock star, and falling for him will only lead to suffering .

But when he's sitting on my couch like that, petting Margot, joking about Legend of Volthorn , it's hard to see him as Dex Reid: Lead Singer and Guitarist of Loaded God Complex. Instead, he's just... Dex. And maybe that's what scares me the most.

"Okay, cool." Flustered, I turn quickly away. "I've just gotta get ready real fast."

I slip into my bedroom and close the door, then lean back against it to catch my breath.

Dex is coming to my concert. He's going to be out there, in the crowd, watching me.

And the thrill that goes through me refuses to be controlled.