Never Say Never Page 6

  I could still smell the sweet smell of vanilla and cinnamon in his hair. “Very.”

  “Well, let's talk about all this over a good old fry-up, shall we? Only – er, Neve?”

  “What?”

  “I do need to get dressed at some point.”

  Shame. “Of course,” I was even more flustered than before. “I'll, just, uh – well, I'll wait in the living room, okay?”

  I sat on his living room couch, looking out at the sea, unsure of how to feel. On the one hand, I was relieved that Danny apparently remembered nothing of our midnight adventure, and didn't think I was some kind of crazed stalker or rapist intent on getting into his bed at all costs. On the other hand, it meant that those kind words Danny had said, his caressing tone of voice, his kisses and the words he'd used – they weren't for me. They were for his dream girl, the girl whose name he'd cried out in the early hours of the morning – Peyton...I should have known. He probably had a girlfriend. Someone like Danny Blue was mature, worldly, sophisticated. What could he see in a bright-eyed college freshman like me?

  He emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, shiny and showered, his black jeans showing off the shape of his hips, a businesslike black blazer over a decidedly grungy white tee, and a corded leather masculine necklace around his neck. He looked like a fashion model stepping out of the magazine. “Sit,” he said, pointing to one of the large stools at the kitchen's island counter. His voice was firm – I almost bristled at the easy authority with which he assumed over me; he sounded like the TA Mr. Blue, not the friendly, sexy Danny I knew. But somehow I didn't mind. I sat at the kitchen counter while Danny loaded up a frying pan full of bacon, mushroom, eggs, and sausages.

  “Great hangover cure from back home,” Danny said, “but it also works to give you energy if you haven't slept.”

  “I'm not hungry...” I tried to protest, feeling I'd already intruded enough.

  “We've got a gig tonight,” said Danny. “You need your strength – and so do I. Besides, the eggs are going off today and I need someone to help me eat them.”

  He plopped down two plates on the kitchen countertop. I was still too nervous to eat, and only vaguely picked at my eggs, still feeling like an alien in Danny's strange world, wishing I could get out of there, away from Danny, away from the distracting image of Danny's naked body that refused to leave my head.

  “Tsk tsk!” he noted. “You're not touching your bacon. I'm almost hurt, Neve. I drive all the way to the butcher's twenty miles from here to get proper English bacon done right – won't you at least tell me if you like it?”

  “I'm good,” I muttered.

  “Oh, for goodness' sake, you're not one of those girls who just eats salad and lettuce, are you? Given how much energy you expend singing I always figured you just had a fast metabolism. Tell me you're not on a diet, please!” He laughed and waved a fork full of bacon in my face. “When I was little my mum used to tell me to open up for the “choo choo train”. I'm not going to have to do that with you, am I? Because I know from experience – salad does not sufficient energy make for a night of performance.”

  “I'm not on a diet!” I protested. “It's just that bacon makes me break out – and the last thing I want to do before tonight is show up with pimples all over my face.”

  Danny shrugged. “Your loss,” he said, and finished the bacon himself. It smelled delicious – but I couldn't stand the thought of eating right now when my stomach was doing flip flops. “I wouldn't worry so much if I were you. Your skin's fine – really, it's flawless. Either you put on a hell of a lot of makeup before I woke up this morning, or you're worrying too much...”

  I flushed pink, enjoying the compliment – even if it was disguised in a healthy dose of teasing. “I've got youth to thank,” I said, “but my mom always says that by the time I hit thirty....” Crap, why did I have to say thirty? Danny must be a few years shy of thirty. Why did I have to remind him just how young I was – he'd probably already pulled away, after that first night of rehearsals, after realizing I was only eighteen. Why did I have to make things worse?

  Danny only smiled. “You are pretty young, aren't you? But someone would think you were at least thirty – given how busy you are, and how you’re able to manage a group of guys so well. Your age hasn't stopped you from getting out there, doing things...”

  “I guess it's because my parents started young,” I said, calming down somewhat now that Danny and I were both clothed and carrying a conversation like two normal people.

  “It sounds like an interesting upbringing,” said Danny, crossing his arms, “and one day I'd love to sit down with you and talk all about it. But right now I don't think it's the time – you – and I for that matter – have to get to Professor Poe's class in thirty minutes, and if we don't hurry, we'll be late. There's a guest bedroom and bath through the hall – you can use the spare toothbrush in there if you like....”

  I hurried through breakfast, brushing my teeth and washing my face as quickly as I could. Unfortunately, last night's makeup was still smeared on my face, and my clothes were decidedly – embarassingly – slept-in. Even Danny Blue's meticulously-kept guest bathroom – as clean and well-stocked as a hotel lavatory – couldn't keep me from looking like I was doing anything but the walk of shame.

  “Knock knock!” Danny entered with a pile of clothes in his arms. “I had these lying around – I thought you might want to change into something. I mean – as lovely as the “day old” look is, I figured you'd want something that didn't smell of Steve's spilled beer.”

  “Thanks,” I said, taking them. I wanted to know where they came from – did Danny have a girlfriend? - but I didn't mention it.

  Luckily, the clothes fit me just fine. When I emerged into the living room, however, Danny turned pale – a look of absolute shock spreading over his face, as if he'd seen a ghost.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked him.

  “No...” he couldn't look at me. “No...it's fine. They – uh, they suit you. You look nice.” But from his expression, I knew something was wrong – and I knew just as surely that it wasn't up to me to ask. Danny Blue was getting more and more mysterious by the minute.

  Chapter 9

  Danny and I were mostly silent as he drove me to class. We stared straight ahead, keeping our eyes on the road, looking out at the sea that lapped at the feet of the cliffs.

  “Er, Neve? I don't mean to be awkward...” he began. Of course, with that melting English accent of his and those piercing sapphire-colored eyes, he couldn't be awkward even if he wanted to.

  “Sure?” I looked over at him.

  “I'm new as a TA to this class,” he said, “and I want to make a good impression on Professor Poe, especially if I'll be going up for teaching jobs at the end of the year once I submit my dissertation.”

  “Sure?”

  “And I'd really rather not – not that of course you don't know the truth – but, I don't want to make a bad impression, or risk my reputation...”

  I realized what he was getting at. If I turned up on campus early in the morning in Danny Blue's car, people might think we'd slept together. People might know, rather, that we'd slept together – in a manner of speaking. And that would be pretty damaging to Danny's career, not to mention my own reputation.

  “So do you mind if I drop you off on campus here and you walk the rest of the way?”

  “Sure...” I said, feeling relieved to have a few seconds to myself to deal with my thoughts. My heart was still racing as I left the car and jogged across campus; I needed to expel all this energy, all this pent-up frustration, that was coursing through me. What were you thinking, girl? What had I been thinking? I'd succumbed to the temptation of a moment, to Danny's glorious body and his soft, sweet words – I'd risked the integrity of the band and my friendship with the boys for a night that hadn't even gone anywhere, which Danny didn't even notice or remember. No, this couldn't happen again – even if Danny wanted it to, which from his relatively
formal demeanor I was pretty sure he didn't. I had to stay strong, stay professional. I had to stay away from Danny Blue.

  But when I arrived in class mere seconds after he did – when our eyes met from across the room and he shot me the tiniest hint of a secret smile – I knew that it would be hard. The past few days had been a crash course in Danny-ology, and now I knew it would be hard to keep ourselves to the teacher/student relationship we needed to maintain in the classroom. I felt close to him – strangely possessive of him – and I couldn't look at him in that tight-fitting black blazer without being able to make out the tantalizing forms of the muscles underneath. I wanted him – I knew that – my whole body ached to be close to him, to be with him as I'd never been with – or even wanted to be with – anyone else before. I'd heard his music – I'd heard the mysterious, plaintive song he'd written and played in secret, the tears streaming down his face as he played. I felt that I'd looked through a window into his soul – that we were connected by some strange bond, by the power of the music that he played, and the music that I sang. There was still so much to learn about him – who was Peyton? Why did he still cry when he sang about her? And why had he freaked out when he saw me in that set of clothes – clothes that still seemed to unnerve him every time his eyes fell upon me in the classroom?

  Nobody else seemed to notice the distraction, however. As soon as Danny got up to speak – lecturing about the relationship of goth rock to post-punk in Northern England – the entire class was lapping out of the palm of his hand. Even the stoners and the jocks taking this course for an easy A were leaning in, excited by his words – his fluid, smooth delivery. He didn't just lecture; he told stories – talking to us about Ian Curtis and Joy Division and New Order, about the clubs of Manchester and Siouxsie Sioux's first performance that were so full of detail and color that it almost seemed as if he had been there.

  Of course, his looks would have more than sufficed even if his teaching style hadn't been up to snuff. The other girls were giggling and staring at him; one girl, raising her arm in a pointed way designed to thrust forth her bosom, asked a question about Ian Curtis' sex life clearly designed to get him to notice her. And when Danny smiled at her, charmingly answering her question while deflecting any talk about sex, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of jealousy.

  It was a relief to get out when class ended.

  “Neve!” Danny called, using the formal professor-voice that still managed to send tingles up and down my side. “May I see you for a moment?”

  “Of course, sir!” I called out cheerily, feeling a frisson of excitement at this game we were playing – the teacher-student relationship hiding our closer intimacy.

  “I'll see you tonight,” he said quietly, so that Professor Poe wouldn't hear. “I've got a lot of meetings and classes to teach, so I won't be there early, but I will be there.” He touched my shoulder slightly so that I shivered. “If I'm a bit late, don't worry. I will be there no matter what – I won't let you down.”

  “Thanks,” I said, smiling at him. “We'll be great, I know it. You'll be great. I'll see you tonight.” I instinctively leaned in, my arms tensed to hug him – an automatic response I'd learned after several experiences with Luc, Kyle, Steve, and Geoff – but I stopped myself at once, my body remembering the feeling of his body against mine, of his arms twined with my own, of his muscular chest tight against my back. I couldn't touch him without becoming overwhelmed with feelings of how much I wanted him, wanted to be close to him, wanted his body so close against mine. I had to watch myself, to keep my feelings – not to mention my hormones – under control.

  “Bye,” I said awkwardly, all but rushing out of the classroom.

  That afternoon I ran into Kyle after our shared Calculus requirement. He was strangely cold to me during class – but it was only after the bell rang that I found out why.

  “Knocked on your door,” he said curtly. “Way to stand me up this morning.”

  What? And then I remembered. My standing Friday morning breakfast date with Kyle. I'd completely forgotten.

  “Nobody was in – your roommate said you hadn't come back last night.” Kyle frowned. “Really, you could have called if you weren't going to come back – not to mention...did you spend the night at Danny's? Really, Neve, after everything you said about Geoff, I can't believe you'd...”

  “I got a flat!” I blurted, hoping Kyle wouldn't see my red face. “Nothing happened. I couldn't get home so I slept on the couch because I was so exhausted. Danny offered to drive me home but it was too late, so he just drove me in this morning.”

  Kyle looked relieved – a little too relieved, I thought. “Good,” he said – before turning slightly crimson. “Because you know, uh, I promised your mom I'd look out for you. There's no way she'd let you live in the dorms instead of at home if she didn't think I'd keep you out of any trouble.” He coughed slightly.

  I patted his hands. “Don't worry, Kyle,” I said. “I'd never screw with the band dynamic like that – you know that. You can trust me. Nothing happened. You know as well as I do that I'd never date anyone in the band.”

  “I know that,” Kyle said. “And you know that. All too well. But does Danny know that?”

  Does he? I looked hurriedly at the floor so that Kyle wouldn't be able to see my face. And for that matter – do I?

  That night, the boys and I drove together to the night club, planning to meet Danny there. I was expecting him to turn up in his typical rock star regalia – but when Danny showed up, it was all I could do not to melt into a puddle on the floor then and there. He was wearing skin-tight leather trousers and a black silk button-down shirt that opened all the way to his navel, revealing his toned chest and killer abs. The blue stud in his ear matched the piercing color of his icy eyes; his hair was slicked back to his shoulders.

  I shuddered with desire.

  But none of that – nothing about his looks – could compare to his playing. The second Danny's lithe fingers touched the guitar strings, he was making love not only to me, but to every single woman in the room. His desire, his longing, his sexy cocksure style – all these seemed to echo through the room with his playing, making the walls shake. I sang along with his melody, our voices and instruments blending into one another, melding together to create a lush wall of sound, overwhelming and gorgeous. I couldn't breathe; somehow, I could sing anyway, energy coursing through us both. Normally, the adrenaline sent me spinning – but tonight was something different, something profound. The normal energy of performance mingled with my desire for Danny – a desire that caused my whole body to shudder like a guitar string. We weren't just giving a great performance tonight – we were giving a performance that was out of this world! I could feel it – Danny could feel it – Luc and Steve and Kyle could feel it. We had our audience by the throats and we weren't going to let them go. We'd drawn them in; we'd seduced them. We were going to make love to them and bring them back wanting more.

  Between my desire and Danny's talent – his presence had brought the Never Knights to a whole new level.

  I couldn't focus with him near me. But as we finished the set, the audience exploding with applause, I knew the band couldn't function with us apart, either.

  Chapter 10

  By the time we played our last song of the night, I was absolutely exhausted – my mind and body alike completely shattered. But as the music died down, I spied something out of the corner of my eye that made my heart start to race anew: Mr. Slayton was sitting at one of the corner tables, a curious expression on his face. So, Slayton was serious after all, I thought, my face turning red with excitement. Apparently he thought our band had potential after all. Well, if he'd seen us tonight, then he'd seen exactly how much energy Danny Blue had injected into our proceedings. He didn't just have the raw talent of a Geoff – he had technique as well, skill and dedication. Exactly what Slayton was looking for. My face was flushed with pleasure – I was so glad he'd seen us tonight, of all nights. I cleared my throat and
started announcing the band members.

  “We're the Never Knights. I'm Neve Knight...”

  “Hold on!” I heard some shouting and turned around. “Hey, you, stand back!” Luc was growling as Kyle and Steve tried to hold off a young, gawky guy holding a cell phone camera.

  “Hey, what are you...”

  But before I could respond, the young man leaped onto the stage, grabbed me, and forced a kiss on me, shoving his tongue down my throat before I even knew what was happening. I heard a cold “click” - the sound of his cell phone camera recording the moment.

  Instinctively, I shoved him away, horror spreading over my face. Quick, Neve, play it cool, I told myself, but my whole body was recoiling in disgust. I felt sick, violated – that this guy could run onstage and assault me like that. But I couldn't let the crowd see me upset. “Looks like we've got some dedicated fans, huh?” I forced myself to say, and the crowd laughed.

  But the guy who had kissed me – currently being held by Steve and Kyle, who looked ready to pummel him at any moment – didn't seem too bothered. “Keith Knight's daughter!” he was shouting, completely drunk, “I kissed Keith Knight's daughter! Whoo!”

  I heard several more clicks from the crowd, as one by one, people took photos with their phones. My stomach plummeted. I'd tried to keep my identity – if not an outright secret – then pretty damn quiet. I didn't play the Keith Knight's daughter card – if anything, I wanted my dad to know nothing of my dreams to follow in his footsteps. But I knew what came next – I'd seen it happen to plenty of my friends, other celebrities' kids. First the camera-phone shot, then the feature on TMZ or Perez Hilton – by tomorrow, the entire Internet would be seeing and laughing at my embarrassing moment, caught on film. Not to mention my dad. And once he found out about the band, I knew, he'd freak out. It was what I was most afraid of. The fame I wanted – the way I didn't want it to happen. I'd be a laughingstock, a celebutante. Not the serious artist I wanted to be.