Starstruck (Heartstrings Duet #1)

25. still breathing

[ 25 ]

STILL brEATHING

LENNON

“ALIVE” BY DAUGHTRY (COVER)

“ S o, listen,” Baxter begins, pulling my attention from the task at hand.

We’re sitting in my office going over some of the scheduling for the concert now that I’ve booked enough performers.

It’s been over a month since our arrangement began, and when we aren’t busy benefitting , he’s been here a few times a week helping me plan.

“I know it’s last minute…but the guys and I are getting together for a writing session tonight. I know you haven’t been, but maybe being around us while we write, seeing our process, could help you get some inspiration back. Will you come?”

I sigh, my shoulders falling. “Bax…I don’t think so.”

“No pressure to pitch in or play or anything. I’d just really love it if you were there.”

A blush rises up my cheeks. Him saying things like that is exactly why I’m certain this is going to end poorly for me. But I’m already strapped in—I may as well enjoy the rest of the ride .

“I don’t know…” I say hesitantly. “I don’t think it’s such a good idea, Baxter.”

The truth is, I’d love to go, more than he knows. But we agreed to no casual hangouts, and aside from last month when he came by on the six-month anniversary of the accident, we’ve kept to that. I don’t want to start breaking the rules now—I’m already deeper into this than I intended to be.

I also worry that the second I step into that room, the anxiety that comes with writing will wash over me. The last thing I want is for my first time meeting Colt and Levi to be tainted by them witnessing a panic attack. Plus, I don’t know how I feel about officially meeting them. They’re more than just his guitarist and drummer, and meeting them makes me feel like we’re more than we are.

“Please, Lennon?”

My heart cracks. I never thought I’d see the day when Baxter James is begging me for…well, anything. Which makes it awfully hard to say no.

I contemplate momentarily before my shoulders slump. “Alright, fine,” I agree, watching as his face lights up like a Christmas tree, making my heart flutter. “But just to watch. I’m not helping.”

“Deal.” He smirks. “Thank you.”

I pull my bottom lip between my teeth as I smile up at him. “What time?”

“I’m meeting them at mine at four.” He pauses, glancing down at his watch quickly. “You almost finished up here?”

My eyes shift to the clock behind him to see that it reads it’s twenty after three already. “You can go on ahead without me. I have a few more things to finish up first.”

“I’ll wait. Tell them to head in without me. That way you won’t have to drive yourself.”

My brows pull together. “I’m fully capable of driving myself, thank you very much. ”

“Oh, I know you are.” He laughs lightly as he pulls me closer, pressing his lips to my forehead. “But I also know you aren’t comfortable doing so. Come with me, Lenny girl. Then I’ll take you home after. Or you can just stay at mine.”

He winks, the smirk on his face panty-dropping as he says that last sentence, but I can’t focus on that when he just insinuated he’s been paying close enough attention to me to have noticed how much I dislike driving these days. I have avoided it at all costs since the accident. Aside from using Anderson when I’m with my siblings, I always Uber or walk. Baxter always picks me up for our benefitting , so I’m never the driver when I’m with him.

“I—” I begin, ready to argue. But he’s spot on, so I relent. “Fine. But I’m not staying over. You know the rules.”

I work for another twenty-five minutes before calling it quits for the day. He wraps his arm around me as we head out of Revolution to his cherry-red Porsche parked on the street.

It’s the same one I saw parked outside of Dylan’s the day of the funeral—the one I recognized but couldn’t figure out why. It’s because it’s Baxter’s, and he’s been in the headlines enough that I probably know more about him than I realize I do.

I still haven’t confronted him about being there that day. Or the fact that he definitely saw me lose it on the front steps while everyone else was inside. I know he knows I know, though. I’m certain it was written all over my face that first day after the bar when we approached his car.

I should probably say something about it, at least to figure out why he was there when it was for close friends and family only. But he obviously never came inside, and talking about it would also mean admitting I still feel as broken as I looked then.

Something in me snapped that day, and it’s something that no amount of talking or avoiding or ignoring will glue back together.

He opens my door—like he always does, being the gentleman he tries so hard to convince me he is, I’m starting to believe he might actually just be one—and I slide inside, buckling my seatbelt as he rounds the car.

The radio plays softly in the background as we drive the few blocks to his house, pulling into the long driveway to find Levi’s pickup and Colt’s bike already in the driveway.

We make our way inside, and my nerves spike as I hear their voices echo through the living room from the basement. Baxter takes me by the hand, holding on tight as if to ground me.

Even though we’re only friends with benefits, one thing I’ve noticed about Baxter is that whenever we’re together, he always has to be touching me in one way or another. It’s like he’s marking his territory, and I’m not sure how to feel about that. Part of me finds it endearing, but the other part is screaming at me to pull away, that this is breaking our no possessiveness rule—because it definitely is.

But I shove that thought down, because as much as that may be true, coming from him, it makes me feel safe. Physical touch has never been my love language, but I’ve come to rely on his.

We enter Baxter’s home recording studio where Colt and Levi are messing around with their instruments. I worry my lip between my teeth, unprepared for the conversation that’s about to occur.

Looking up from the drums, Levi smirks. “Well, well,” he begins, eliciting Colt’s attention too. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Blood rushes to my cheeks as Baxter continues pulling me toward the guys. I feel frozen in time. I’m not shy when meeting new people—I think these nerves are more from the fact that meeting Baxter’s best friends makes this seem that much more real.

“Play nice,” Baxter growls at Levi, causing him to laugh. The corner of Colt’s mouth quirks up, but he remains stoic.

“Hi,” Levi greets me, holding a hand out to mine. “I’m Levi. Levi Tanner.”

I smile, though I’m screaming inside, and release Baxter’s hand to grasp his, shaking firmly. “Lennon Thorne.”

His eyes roam my body up and down, his tongue skating out over his lips. “Oh, I know who you are,” he teases .

My cheeks flush under his gaze, and I glance up at Baxter, who looks down at me with a smirk on his face, shaking his head. I chuckle and turn back to the two musicians.

Colt holds out his hand to me next, smacking Levi on the back of his head as he does. “Ignore him. He’s like this with every woman,” he says, wrapping his hand around mine. “I’m Colt.”

I laugh, nodding. “Lennon. Nice to meet you both.”

I know enough about Colt Waters and Levi Tanner just from working at Revolution. Couple that with being Baxter’s musicians—they’re extremely well-known in the industry. I can’t help but smile as I examine them, though, because they’re complete opposites in almost every way, it seems.

Levi is like a golden retriever puppy with his longer blond hair and hazel eyes, making him the embodiment of sunshine and mischief. He always looks like he’s up to something, smirking and smiling constantly. He’s a total class clown, and he likes it that way from what I’ve seen over the years. People tend not to take him very seriously, and I think he does it on purpose.

Then there’s Colt, who’s dark all around. Short hair trimmed closer on the sides, eyes so dark they’re almost black, tan skin, and a twenty-four-seven brooding expression. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the man truly smile.

It’s hard to believe these two are best friends, but they’ve been that way since before they met Baxter.

Colt is thirty-two, a year older than Baxter, and I believe he was signed to Revolution right around the time Baxter was—shortly after the label opened. Then Levi, who’s twenty-nine, followed after them a few years later. The two of them worked together for quite a few years before joining Baxter, if I’m not mistaken, though, I don’t believe they ever played with anyone consistently until him.

“So, you’re Baxter’s new groupie, huh?” Levi jokes, and I roll my eyes.

“She’s not a groupie,” Baxter scolds from beside me, his hand resting on the small of my back.

“Whatever you say, Lover Boy .” Levi winks at me as he uses my nickname for Baxter, clearly insinuating Baxter told them about it.

I can’t help but laugh at the fact that his friends find this whole arrangement nearly as comical as I do.

No one ever expected Baxter James to become a one-woman kind of guy. Even if it is just casual.

“Ready to write?” Colt asks, clearly bored of this interaction.

Baxter nods and leads me to the couch before picking up one of his many guitars. I curl up in the corner as he takes the seat next to me. He tosses me a smile before strumming a tune he mentioned has been stuck in his head for quite some time. Colt jumps in, playing the same notes completely by ear. Levi nods his head along, writing something down on the notepad in his lap before Baxter starts singing, making words up as he goes.

Watching them play like this feels surreal. I’ve never been to one of Baxter’s shows before, but I’ve seen videos on YouTube. I know how in sync the three musicians are with each other, but watching them work together like this is something else.

I smile to myself as Baxter pauses his playing, writing down some other lyrics. Colt and Levi jump in to add a few here and there all while I sit in silence, appreciating the way they work.

As hesitant as I was to join them, Baxter was right—watching them play together does spark something I haven’t felt since before the accident.

It isn’t long before I’m standing and rounding the couch, picking up one of the spare guitars in the small room. I take my seat next to Baxter again, and he flashes me a smile that nearly has me dropping to my knees.

Except I’ve never played guitar before—I’m a pianist. Which is why, when they pause again, I meet Baxter’s gaze and ask, “Will you teach me?”

With a smile, he nods. “Anything for you, Trouble.”