Starstruck (Heartstrings Duet #1)

20. think of you

[ 20 ]

THINK OF YOU

BAXTER

“DO I WANNA KNOW?” BY ARCTIC MONKEYS

“ U gh, again?” Lennon whines as she walks into her office, finding me sprawled out on her couch. “What are you doing here, Baxter?”

I chuckle at her reaction. As promised, for the past week, I’ve been consistently showing up unannounced. We still haven’t benefitted since that day in her office, and I’m now certain she’s having second thoughts. I plan on doing whatever it takes to get her to change her mind back, and the more time she spends around me, the more tempted she’ll be.

A wicked smirk crosses my face. “I love it when you’re mean to me, Trouble,” I tell her as I stand. “Turns me on.”

She rolls her eyes, moving around her desk as I stand across from her, leaning down against it. Our faces are inches apart as she meets my eyes, the tension coursing between us so strong it could be cut with a butter knife. Her tongue darts out over her lips as she tears her gaze from mine, and a low rumble comes from my chest. She’s a damn walking temptation—she doesn’t even have to try.

She takes a seat at her desk so I do the same, crossing one leg over the other. I make myself comfortable as she gets to work on God knows what—probably something concert related. I keep my eyes trained on her, my smirk growing each time she glances up at me with both irritation and desire written on her face. She’s probably hoping if she pretends I’m not here, I’ll disappear, but she’s shit out of luck if she thinks I’m giving up that easily.

“Ignoring me isn’t going to make me go away, Lennon.”

I’m met with another eye roll in response, eliciting another laugh from me. Little does she know, her attitude is what keeps me coming back for more.

“Well, if we’re just going to sit here, you may as well put me to work.”

That grabs her attention, her gaze sliding from her computer to me. “ You’re just sitting there. I’m working. But fine,” she says, resting her elbows on her desk. “You really want to help?”

I nod eagerly, desperate for anything from her at this point.

She smirks. “Why don’t you be a good boy and go get me a coffee?”

I grit my teeth, my cock growing hard from that sentence alone. She knows exactly what to say to get me riled up. She watches as I stand, her eyes tracking from my face down to my crotch. She bites her lip before meeting my eyes again.

I mirror her smirk, crossing my arms over my chest. “Anything for you, Trouble,” I say, turning toward the door. With one hand on the doorknob, I turn back to face her. “But when I get back, you’re going to be a good girl and let me remind you why you agreed to be friends with benefits in the first place.”

Her cheeks flush as her jaw falls open. With a light chuckle, I open the door, heading to the floor’s common room to get this damn woman a coffee.

I’m so fucked.

Twenty minutes later, I return to Lennon’s office with two coffees—black with one sugar for me and an iced vanilla oat latte for her. I decided to head down the street to Underground Espresso to get us better coffee than what they keep here, and I know that’s her favourite just from watching her over the past week.

She doesn’t even look up when I come in, so I approach her desk, setting her coffee in front of her before taking my seat again.

“Thank you,” she says, picking it up to take a sip, and I do the same. Then she glances at her drink, her brows pulling together. “You know my coffee order?”

Our eyes meet, my tongue swiping over my lip as I pull the cup away from my face. “I do.”

She swallows, jerking her head in a nod before she shuts the lid to her laptop, her shoulders slumping. She glances around the room, refusing to let her eyes find mine as she says, “I think we made a mistake.”

I cock a brow but keep my mouth shut.

She sighs. “I think we”—she gestures between the two of us—“ are a mistake.”

My smirk grows wider. I don’t believe her for a minute. She’s just scared of her feelings, and I don’t blame her.

I am, too.

“Keep telling yourself that, Lennon.”

She frowns. “What, you disagree?”

I lean forward, rubbing my hands together. “Yeah.”

“We’re a disaster waiting to happen, Bax,” she says, her eyes narrowed. “Friends with benefits never works. Someone always catches feelings. And neither of us are in a position for more.”

I just stare at her as she speaks. I mean, she’s not wrong—every friends with benefits arrangement always ends up with one or both people falling in love. But she’s already told me she’s in no place for a relationship, and I don’t believe in love, so that shouldn’t be an issue here.

I know it’s not that easy, though. I may not believe in love, but my feelings toward Lennon are unlike any I’ve felt for a woman before. And based on her clear hesitation, I’m willing to bet she’s already having some feelings of her own for me, too, which explains her current state of mind. If I’ve learned anything about Lennon through our few encounters, it’s that she’s an overthinker.

“Okay.” I nod. “So, what do you propose then?”

“I propose nothing. I propose we end this before it goes too far.”

I cock a brow. “Sorry, Lenny girl. You’re not getting off that easy. Unless you can look me in the eyes and tell me you genuinely don’t want to see me again, I’m not going anywhere. Can you do that?”

She stares into my eyes, rolling her lips between her teeth as she shakes her head.

“That’s what I thought. So…what do you propose?”

She contemplates for a minute, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she plays with the necklace she’s wearing—a dainty gold heart pendant.

Then she exhales deeply, her lips pursed. “What about a rider?”

I laugh. A rider is essentially a list of items musicians need for their pre- or post-show routines, so to speak. Most artists I know, myself included, have one. Typically, they include normal things, like what music they listen to or food they eat. But I also know some musicians with more absurd things on their rider, such as requesting an entirely separate dressing room for their collection of sunglasses.

“Alright, sure. We can make a friends with benefits rider.” I immediately lean forward and grab a notepad and a pen off her desk. “So, what’s first?”

Brows raised, she chuckles. “You sure are eager, aren’t you? ”

I lick my lips. “I told you I’d keep coming back for more, Lenny girl. I meant it.”

Her cheeks flush pink at my words. “O-okay. Um, first—no more kissing. You said you don’t kiss the women you fuck because kissing makes things confusing. I agree, so no more of it.”

I tilt my head down. Fuck, that one’s going to be hard—kissing her is addicting. But if it means I can still fuck her, then whatever she wants.

I write it down. “Okay, no kissing. Next?”

She glances around the room, tapping her dark red nails on the desk.

“No more sleepovers.”

“Agreed.” I add it to the list, then scribble down my own rule before sharing it out loud. “And we only have sex with each other.”

“Really? I wouldn’t expect you to be into monogamy.” Her brows raise. “Have you never had a threesome?”

Now my brows raise. The last thing I need is to hear Lennon talk about threesomes. “I have,” I rasp. “Have you had a threesome, Trouble?”

A blush rises to her cheeks as she nods. “Once.”

I grunt. “And you want to have one with me and someone else?”

She shakes her head. “No, bu?—”

“Good,” I interrupt. Leaning forward, I add, “Because I don’t plan on sharing you with anyone.”

She nods, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, and moves onto the next item on the list. She names a few more, and I continue to write them down, just happy to be along for the ride.

“Okay,” I say when I finish, passing the notebook to her. I give her a moment to read the list before I ask, “Look good?”

“Almost.” She looks up at me. “We need to have a deadline. This can’t go on forever.”

I clench my jaw. The last thing I want to think of is this thing ending before it even begins, but if it’ll give her some peace of mind, I’ll roll with it. “Okay…so what’s the end date?”

She rolls her lips together pensively. “August twenty-fourth.”

My brows furrow. “Isn’t that the day of the concert?”

She jerks her head in a nod. “We’ll have no reason to see each other after that.”

She’s not wrong, but my brows pull together anyway. Because that means after the benefit concert is over…so are we. And I’m really not sure what to think about that.

Nonetheless, I write it down. Four months of this arrangement is better than ending it before it even starts like she wanted to when she walked in here today.

“Okay. We good then?”

She scans the list again, pulling it closer as she picks up the pen and adds her own item to the list. Then she flips the notebook around to face me again as she says, “There…I think that’s good.”

I scan the last item.

Promise not to fall in love with each other.

At first, I’m tempted to question why she would even think it needed to be added. I don’t do love—everyone knows that. But when I meet her eyes, noticing a mix of sadness and desperation filling her features, I realize she didn’t add it to be cocky; like she expects me to fall for her or even thinks that I will. It’s more like a warning—as if she wants to save me from the pain she believes comes with loving her before it even begins.

Like it’s a reminder to herself that love only leads to pain and she doesn’t want any part of it.

My eyes soften, a small smile inching on my face. “Don’t worry, Lenny girl. I don’t love anyone.”

I haven’t since my mom.

She tilts her head softly, rolling her lips together before leaning forward and holding out her hand to me. “So, do we have a deal?”

My eyes move to the list again, rereading the last two items. Then I wrap my hand around hers as I nod. “Deal. ”

We both sign our names at the bottom of the list. Except as I write mine, a knot begins to form in my stomach. Because although love isn’t something I’ve ever imagined for myself, I can’t help but think that if I did love someone, if I could …

It would be her.