My gaze slides over Becka Edmonson’s face, and I can feel the pull of the frown on my own at the sight of her tears.
“Becks? What’s wrong?”
I hate her tears, but it doesn’t diminish her beauty in the slightest. She’s just as gorgeous as always. Her coffee-brown hair spills over her shoulders and down just past her breasts, the lighter hues catching the light of the sun and making her hair look even more shiny and smooth than I remember it. Her curves seem fuller than they used to be, but she still looks trim and could easily pass for a model, not that she’d ever realize that. Becka never understood how beautiful she is, even when I’d watch the boys at school practically fall all over themselves for her attention.
She shakes her head and lets out a shuddering breath, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her shirt at the same time. She stares up at the sky and I swear I hear her mumbling “seriously” under her breath.
“Becka?” I prod, hoping she’ll finally answer me. She couldn’t possibly forget who I am. We grew up together, and her brother is still my friend. Hell, at one time she and I were great friends too. Will, Becks, and I used to get into all kinds of trouble growing up, riding our bikes through the neighborhood well into the nighttime hours, staying up late to catch fireflies, and when we were older sneaking out to steal sips of Tony Ramirez’s dad’s liquor.
She was even my first kiss, not that it was a great one for either of us. I’ll begrudgingly admit I had no idea what I was doing, and it was a lot more slobbery than it should’ve been. But that’s not what caused us to hang out less. At least I never attributed our faded friendship to that one kiss. It always just seemed like we went our own directions. But seeing her now takes me back once again to all those memories of the days before I was famous.
Her jade-green eyes are mesmerizing and heartbreaking at the same time. “Nothing. I’m fine. What are you doing here? I thought you’d be on tour already.”
My pulse speeds up in excitement that she’s followed my band. She knows I have an upcoming tour. I’m ashamed to admit I have no idea what she’s up to these days, but that’s beside the point.
“Nice deflection, but you forget I know you.” It’s been years since I’ve seen her, but that doesn’t change the fact that I knew her nearly as well as I know her brother Will. I arch my brow, daring her to argue with me. “Now tell me what’s wrong.”
She gestures behind me. “Were you going somewhere? I don’t want to hold you up.” I glance back to see what she’s looking at and realize she’s staring at my behemoth of a bodyguard.
“Oh, that’s just Chris, my bodyguard. Don’t worry about him.”
She stares at me like she wants to say something else, but instead her shoulders sag in defeat, and she gestures to the coffee shop I just walked out of. “Let’s at least sit. It’s been a long day, and I could really use a cup of coffee.” I open the door for her and follow her to a table in the back, while Chris sits at the table in front of us, his eyes cataloging every person in the room.
Becka watches him cautiously before turning to me. “Does he go with you everywhere?”
“Yep, pretty much. Definitely any time I’m in public. There was an incident about a year ago that got out of hand, and the rest of the band felt it safest if I had some kind of protection.”
“Do all the guys have bodyguards?”
“Not as regularly as I do. Being the lead singer brings with it a certain level of fame that none of us were prepared for. We always have extra security when we’re all together, but I’m the only one who regularly needs someone with me.”
Her eyes turn sad as she glances back at Chris and then locks her gaze with mine. “That doesn’t exactly seem like a dream come true.”
I shrug. “It comes with the territory. Anyway, stop deflecting and tell me what’s wrong.”
She sighs heavily and then says, “How about you tell me what you’re doing here and then I’ll tell you why I’m upset.”
I squint at her, wondering if she’s just trying to get out of telling me what’s going on, but decide to play along since at least she admitted she’s upset.
“I had a meeting with VibeTV. They bought the rights to a documentary on the band that we’ll be filming during our upcoming tour. I just signed the contract this morning with the guys, and then decided to stop for tea before heading home.”
Becka’s face lights up. “First of all, congrats, that’s awesome, and second,”—her eyes get a mischievous little twinkle and my heart speeds up infinitesimally—“I can’t wait to work with you.”
My jaw drops. “What?”
She lets out a soft laugh, and I’m relieved to see her face lose the pain that was there when we first bumped into each other. “I work in the PR department for VibeTV. I’ve been there for three years now. If you just signed the contract today, my boss will probably announce it to the team tomorrow. So, thanks for giving me the inside scoop. It almost makes up for this craptastic day.”
“Yeah, about that…I think it’s your turn to share.”
“Ugh, do I have to?”
I smirk. “’Fraid so. We had a deal.”
She looks down at her hands clasped together resting on the table, shakes her head, and then looks back up at me and tells me all about her—as she put it—craptastic day. Hearing how her ex treated her sends a fiery rage storming through my body. Even I know it’s an extreme reaction for someone I haven’t seen in years, but it takes me by such surprise there’s no way of stopping it. She doesn’t cry anymore, but her lip wobbles every so often, especially when she seems to be putting herself down. If I have to hear her call herself stupid one more time, I’m gonna shut that shit down.
Becka Edmonson is the smartest, kindest, funniest, bravest woman I’ve ever met. And I’ve met a lot of women. But she’s always been at the top when it comes to women I admire.
I didn’t realize how much I missed having her in my life until now, even if we are discussing a man who clearly didn’t deserve her. I’m suddenly beyond grateful that we bumped into each other. I’ve always considered Becka a good friend, even if there was a time in my life where I wanted her to be more.
Sitting here with her is giving me something I haven’t felt in a long-ass time. The exact thing I’ve been craving. She’s not hanging out with me for my money or my fame. She’s not trying to get in my pants—not that I’d stop her if she was. But more than any of that, she knows me, like really knows me.
It’s beyond refreshing to sit across from someone who knew me before, someone I know would never use me for my fame because that’s never been who she is. Becka’s never been a people user. If anything, she lets others take from her until she’s running on fumes, while she never takes back. The more she talks about Brad, the more I realize she still hasn’t found the guy who will give to her, who will fill her cup endlessly so she never questions his love or her value in his life.
That’s the type of man she needs. Not these douchebags she’s always been drawn to.
“Yeah, so that’s why I’m bawling in the middle of the day on a Wednesday—because I have terrible taste in men.” She glances behind me and points. “That’s probably the kind of guy I should be dating.”
I turn around to see who she’s pointing at. He’s tall, dark-haired, and dressed in a tailored suit, but he also reeks of pompous douchebag.
“That is most definitely not the kind of guy you should be dating.”
Her jaw drops, and her eyes look at me with dismay. “What do you mean? He clearly has a job and makes decent money, so he wouldn’t mooch off of me. And he’s attractive in a classic kind of way.”
“That guy is a total player and would be a complete waste of your time.”
“How do you figure? You only took one look at him.”
“Yeah, and his eyes never strayed from looking at the barista’s tits. Not to mention the faint line where a wedding band is either supposed to be or was, which tells me he’s either a cheater or recently divorced and on the rebound. Just because a man wears a tailored suit doesn’t mean he’s not a total and complete asshole. Looks can be deceiving.”
She watches the guy carefully, and I can practically see the gears in her head turning over my comments as she reevaluates him.
“Well, shit,” she says, leaning back in her chair and looking at me with a mix of awe and disappointment.
“Sorry, Becks. You need better guy-dar.”
She watches me thoughtfully. “Or maybe I just need you to help me pick out the next guy I date.”
Wait, what?
“You don’t go on tour for a few weeks, right?”
“A little over a month, yeah.”
She smiles, and if I wasn’t so taken aback by what she’s suggesting, I’d be completely dazzled by her. “Great. Then you can be my dating coach.”
“Your what now?”
“You heard me.” She leans forward, her smile wide and her eyes bright with eagerness, while she points to where the suited guy was standing. Her eyes never leave mine. “You were able to tell from one glance that Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome was a hot mess express. That’s what I need. We’ll hang out like the old days, and you can help me pick out a guy who doesn’t totally suck, because I’m so fucking tired of dating assholes. Trent, please save me from the assholes.”
She holds her hands in front of her like she’s praying and pleads with her intense green eyes.
I admit it; I’m not entirely opposed to the idea, mainly because it would give me an excuse to hang out with her. And after the past few months of feeling like I’m faking it for everyone else, it would be nice to be able to just be myself with someone, without any hidden agendas.
And Becka clearly does need a dating coach. So, why shouldn’t it be me?
“Fine. You’re on. What are you doing Friday?”
She smiles that breathtaking smile again, and I swear her eyes twinkle. “You tell me.”
“Ian’s in Hollywood. This Friday, seven o’clock. It’s trivia night and there’s always a ton of single guys there. I bet we can find you one there.”
“Alright, Obi-wan. You’re my only hope, so let’s do this.”