Page 68 of Just Wait

Not really.

But it could be if he got a millimeter closer.

“N-No,” I stutter. “I don’t want to leave yet.”

“Fuck yes.” He plants the quickest peck of a kiss on my lips before moving back to where he started. “Just wait, we’re going to have so much fun together.”

I’m left staring at the roof of the bus with my chest heaving. My bra isn’t going to do anything to hide my tight nipples, and it’s tempting to continue to stare into oblivion.

If he had kissed me, I would have kissed him back.

Hell, I still want him to kiss me.

“What’s this?” he asks, prying my notebook from under my hair.

I force myself to roll to face him, even if my brain is busy trying to convince me I should beg him to climb on top of me and kiss me for real.

“I wanted to work on some stuff for your song⁠—”

“Our song.”

“Nah, it’s all yours,” I assure him. “I know what it’s like to have a vision for the finished product in your head. If you hate the tweaks I made, you can swap it back. It won’t hurt my feelings, I promise.”

“Taking credit for someone else’s work really isn’t my style,” he says seriously. “Everything you’ve done has made it better. I wouldn’t change it back just to be able to prevent cowriting credit.”

He’s about to stumble very close to trauma I didn’t realize I had. They’re letting me stay with them, and I want to be helpful. It took a while to convince Theo that I didn’t want to deal with contracts and putting my name on Tangled Desires’ songs.

I have no idea why it scares me so much, but if anyone knew I wrote some of their biggest hits, I’d be perceived. Since everyone thinks Tangled Desires writes their own stuff, they’re the ones on the hook if fans hate it.

If they love it, that’s amazing.

I can still revel in that privately.

One day I would like to get credit for the songs I create. I just want a little more practice before the public gets to judge my work.

“No, I mean, I wouldn’t want credit,” I say very seriously. “I love helping work out the kinks, but at the end of the day, it’s still your creation.”

“I don’t agree with that at all,” Malcolm says, tossing my notebook down on the bed. “But we don’t have to argue about it right now. I’m still hyped from the show. Are you tired?”

“No.”

“Perfect,” he purrs. “I heard there’s a new horror movie that just hit video on demand. One of the roadies told me he almost pissed his pants with the jump scares. Wanna watch it with me?”

God, I’m such a wimp when it comes to scary movies, but I also don’t want to be alone.

“Yeah, but my laptop screen is tiny,” I admit.

“Ehh, well, we have some options.” He smirks. “We can hang out in the living room. It has a bigger screen. Or there’s the small one in here.”

My face flames as I think that through. If we hang out in the living room, we’ll likely have company. Having other people around would help ensure that I wouldn’t do something stupid, but it would also equate to an audience watching us cuddle.

“Let’s hang out in here.”

“You got it, baby doll.” He rolls off the mattress and heads to the small TV in the corner next to the shelves on the wall with the door. He pulls on something, and the TV stretches toward the bed.

Damn, I didn’t know that was possible. I never bothered trying to watch anything because I figured the screen would be so small that it wasn’t worth it.

Malcolm spins around, and his sweats fall even lower on his hips.