Hawk and Dove (Rock Star Romance Novel) by Amanada Lawless Page A

evening breeze, the
solid comfort of Trent’s hand around mine, the sad, simple beauty of honest
words come together in my mind. I know that it’s a memory I’ll cherish for the
rest of my life.
    The band onstage begins its first number, a lyrical ballad
that perfectly captures the sweet sorrow that’s coursing through me. I love it
when the perfect song comes along at just the right moment. I squeeze Trent’s
hand and sidle in an inch closer to him. He looks over at me and smiles without
a hint of expectation.
    I can tell that’s he’s just happy to be in my company. Our
backs press up against the rough bark of the tree, and I lean toward him,
brushing my side against his. His fingers graze my thigh, and I can’t tell if
it's intentional or not.
    The wailing, soulful sound of music encompasses us in this
little world of our own. As I hold Trent’s gaze under the swaying, rustling
branches, our bodies press against each other tentatively. Our fingers tighten,
and I can’t help but lift my chin just a hair, offering up my lips should he
want to kiss them. I can feel his breath against the skin of my throat as our
faces move to meet halfway. I feel like I’ve just chugged half a bottle of
whiskey, my head is spinning so.
    The entire world has fallen away from my mind, and it’s only
me and Trent, suspended here together, on the verge of a kiss.
    His lips part, and I can practically see the words building
up inside his mouth. He’s stopped moving toward me—in fact, I think he’s
drawing away.
    Did I do something wrong?
    “I’ve got to get ready and head over to the main stage,” he
says, his voice gravelly.
    “OK,” I mutter, looking away. I don’t want him to see the
blush in my cheeks.
    “Come with me,” he suggests, pulling on my hand, “You can
watch from backstage. You’ll love it, I promise.”
    “Sounds great,” I tell him, swallowing my embarrassment.
    I let Trent tow me away from our little place in the world,
off toward the center of the festival. My mind is grappling with what the hell
just happened between us, but there’s no time for overanalyzing. I pick up the
pace to keep up with my mysterious guide through this new world of experience.
At least he seems to know where he’s going—that makes one of us.
     

 
    Chapter Seven

     
    “Here you go,” I say, gesturing toward a prime patch of
backstage real estate. “You can see the whole show from right here. Best spot
in the house, I promise you.”
    Ellie peers past the curtains toward the swelling audience.
She’s being a very good sport, though I can tell that some part of her wishes
she could be out in the crowd, like a normal girl.
    It makes me a little sad for her—now that she’s a known
musician, even a minor one, simple pleasures like watching a concert without
being bothered by the paparazzi and crazed fans are a thing of the past.
    “This is great, Trent,” she smiles. The corners of her mouth
are stretched a smidge too widely for her enthusiasm to be completely
wholehearted.
    I avert my gaze, regret twisting my stomach into knots.
    Why did I have to blow her off before? I’ve never lost my
nerve with a girl in my entire life. Well, not since I hit puberty, anyway. We
were absolutely on the edge of a moment back under that tree, on that little
hill overlooking the festival. I saw what was happening, felt it, and still I
ripped us away.
    Sure, there was the pressing issue of my concert to
consider, but would one kiss have killed me?
    I’d wanted to kiss her so badly. Those full, soft lips of
Ellie’s were inches from mine, and moving closer. In a perfect world, I would
have been able to press her back against that tree, pinning her there. I would
have been able to kiss her as deeply, and long as I wanted, letting her feel
the weight of my body against her own. I would have been able to wrap my arms
around her, carry her off to some secluded corner where we could be alone.
    But this is hardly a perfect world we’re