Page 29 of Playing the Backbeat

I clear my throat before answering her. “Of course.”

Relief sweeps over her face. “Okay, good. Because I have way too much free time on my hands for you to think a war with your roommate is a good idea.”

“With you? I’d never get out unscathed.”

Her laugh reverberates around the room, a sliver sinking into my chest. A piece of her that settles next to the ones thathave already found a home there. A collection of moments dangerously close to affection building into…something.

Emi rips the headphones down, wrapping them around her neck. She swivels on the stool to look at me with a seriousness I didn’t realize this family was capable of. She mimics my stance, elbows on her knees, hunched over, hands clasped. “Okay, drummer boy. Where do we start?”

Chapter thirteen

Dee

Iwake to the smell of bacon. My stomach twists with hunger and I stretch my arms and legs starfish style.

“Emi,” I mumble.

No response from the tangle of blankets next to me.

“Emi,” I try again, giving her a gentle pat on the head. “Honey, time to wake up.”

“Nooooooo,” she whines, burrowing deeper into the mess of comfort.

I laugh, rolling myself out of bed and heading into my bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. A few minutes later, I slip past Emi, who hasn’t moved an inch, and make my way to the kitchen.

I see him before he sees me. Dylan, in a tight black T-shirt, tattoos on full display wrapping around his arm, hair tied back in a low bun. My gaze travels south…and a little farther south….and a little farther.

“Did you ask me to be your roommate so you could stare at my butt?” Dylan asks.Busted. My cheeks heat as I step out of the hallway and take a seat at the counter.

Classic rock music plays quietly from his phone resting on the countertop next to the stove.

“That, among other reasons.”

“My bodyandmy money. I should be offended.”

“Don’t cheapen our agreement,” I say with a smile. “You love being the apartment sugar daddy. And apparently the chef too.”

“Felt like I owed you two. I ate more than my fair share of cupcakes last night.”

“Yeah, I thought I said something about you only getting one.”

“Emi kept throwing them at me after her drum lesson. What was I supposed to do? Say no to a cupcake? I’m not dumb. Where is the new rockstar?”

I nod toward my bedroom door, cracked open in hopes the smell of food is enough to wake Emi.

“Sleeping Beauty turns into a dragon if you wake her too early or too quickly. It’ll be a minute before she—”

“Is that bacon?” Emi asks as she strolls out of my room, cocooned in my comforter, half of the massive blanket trailing behind her as she passes me and walks straight into Dylan’s room.

Two seconds later, Dylan and I hear the telltale sounds of her playing on his drum set again.

“You were saying?” Dylan asks with a smug smirk plastered on his face as he divides a pan of scrambled eggs onto three plates.

“I stand corrected.”

I allow myself another lazy perusal while Dylan moves around the kitchen comfortably. He’s only been here a couple of weeks, but he moves in the space like it’s home to him. I find myself smiling at the thought, warmth spreading through my insides.

He places a mug in front of me. My tea exactly the way I like it.