Neon Dreams: Loving Dallas Part 15

"Okay, okay! Stop! I might enjoy the fact that I get to see you. A little."

"You've seen me a lot more than a little." I growl softly, then kiss her below the ear.

She whimpers when I let my hands drift lower. "Dallas, we're in public."

"I don't remember that bothering you," I say, recalling a time after graduation when we indulged in some very public s.e.xual acts in very crowded areas. Thankfully everyone else was too wasted to notice.

"You are so bad," she tells me.

"You love it."

Her silence tells me that I'm right. For the next hour we sightsee like she wanted, popping in and out of little shops and even buying some strange voodoo candles. We feed each other beignets and I kiss powdered sugar from her lips.

We grab gumbo for dinner and eat outside on a patio at a place on a busy street corner.

"It's like it never stops here," she says. "Like the city has its own heartbeat and it's just constantly alive and awake."

Beside us a woman, or it might be a man dressed as a woman, h.e.l.l if I know, is being shoved into a police car. On the opposite corner a group of young men in tighty whities and wigs and lots of glittery makeup are pole dancing on some building pillars.

"Yeah, it's alive and awake all right. And parts of it are f.u.c.king weird."

Robyn laughs at my discomfort. "We're a long way from Amarillo, country boy."

"You can say that again."

She grins at me, then leans forward to run her nose against mine. "We're a long way from Amarillo, country boy." This time her voice is lower, huskier like I like it. The exact cadence that makes me want to spread her on this table and have her for dessert. This morning was just a taste-an appetizer. I'm ready for the main course.

"I haven't been a boy in a long time, darlin'." I wink and give her a light kiss on the tip of her nose. "But I think you know this already."

Before she can respond, a jazz band starts up right beside where we're sitting. Robyn doesn't hesitate.

She jumps up from her dinner and runs to stand beside a dark-skinned gray-haired gentleman playing the saxophone. I watch in wonder as she dances along to the music, twirling until her dark blue dress with the little white flowers on it spins around her. Soon she isn't alone and if it weren't for her red hair, I'd be hard-pressed to find her in the crowd.

When I make my way to her, she collapses against my chest. "This is the best place ever. I love it here. Let's never leave, okay?"

When she looks at up me with so much hope in her eyes, begging me to play along, I can't help but give her what she wants.

"Okay," I say, taking her hand for one more twirl. "We'll never leave."

24 Robyn.

IT'S FUNNY, AS A KID, I WASN'T A HUGE FAN OF PLAYING PRETEND. Yet as an adult I can't seem to get enough of it.

After hours of dancing in the street and then in a sw.a.n.ky jazz club we happened upon by accident, Dallas and I return to his room like a couple returning to their honeymoon suite.

We should both be exhausted, but there is an energy pulsating between us that has a life of its own. There is something truly magical about this place-it's as if the spirits of the past are charging the air around us, electrifying everything and everyone with their own never-ending high-velocity current.

Dallas excuses himself to use the restroom and I step out onto his balcony. It's nearly four in the morning but the party is still going strong on the street down below. I'm mesmerized by the lively crowd, entranced by their energy and so engrossed that I don't hear Dallas come up behind me.

"What a beautiful view," he says softly, the deep rumble of his voice warming my blood.

"It is," I agree, taking in the lights and the laughter down below. "It's an amazing city."

"I wasn't talking about the city."

I gasp audibly when his hands slide up my thighs, raising my dress as they go.

This isn't real, Robyn. This is temporary. Casual, like he said. Don't forget that. Don't get confused about what this means. It's a good time, that's all.

But it's confusing and it has been since Charlotte. Because it feels real, as real and all consuming as Dallas's presence enveloping me the way he did when we danced tonight. His breath hits my neck before his lips do and my knees weaken. His solid body supports my weight as his fingers tease the thin cotton barrier between us. I can feel his entire length against my backside and it makes me moan in antic.i.p.ation.

"Anyone could see, Dallas," I breathe, too turned on to be as panicked as I should be. "They could just look up and they'd see."

"Yeah?" he says, as if this isn't of any concern to him. "You like that, sweet girl? We're supposed to be discreet, though. But what if I take you right now? What if you come apart right here on this balcony?"

His thick warm finger slides beneath my panties and strokes the length of my own slick arousal.

"We can't do this," I whisper. "I mean, we can. I want to. Just not right here."

"I want them to watch," he says into my ear. "I want them to know that you're mine, to see how hot I make you and how hard you come for me. Only for me."

I was right about the spirits of the past inhabiting this city. Dallas is a man possessed.

I can't form a coherent sentence so I agree to his request wordlessly. Spreading my legs farther apart for him, I lean back on his chest.

"Only for you," I whisper, and they're the last words I speak before he slides into me, groaning as he fills me and gripping my hips with both hands.

"f.u.c.k, Robyn. You're so d.a.m.n hot. I can hardly control myself."

"Then don't."

This is insane. Anyone could look up right now and with a second glance they would know exactly what we were up to. But I can't bring myself to feel anything other than exhilarated. Everything is brighter, more vibrant with him inside me. Time slows and I can hear every breath he takes, see every pinpoint of light down below.

I know the exact moment when he begins to lose himself inside me. I'm acutely aware of the change when hard thrusts become a slow, intense grind.

"Come for me, sweet girl. Let me feel how much you enjoy being a dirty girl out here for the world to see."

My insides clench around him, propelled by his s.e.xy words.

"Dallas," I whisper, because I feel myself falling. Not off the balcony but into oblivion with him.

"Come for me, Robyn. Show me how much you love this, how hard it turns you on knowing they could see, knowing they could watch me f.u.c.k you. Show me how dirty you can be, sweet girl." His middle finger hits my c.l.i.t at precisely the perfect moment and it flings me over the edge. His name rolls off my tongue over and over as he finishes inside me. "That's my girl," he whispers between gentle kisses on my neck. "My sweet dirty girl."

I lie face-to-face with Dallas-his arms wrapped around my naked body-after we've both come more times than I can count. For a while we just laid there, catching our breath, but somehow that turned to satisfied smiles and now he's staring into my eyes and we're both in danger of unleas.h.i.+ng the truths of our souls.

"I was starting to wonder if we were ever going to get to this part of our agreement. You kept walking me to my door and saying good night like you couldn't wait to kick rocks."

Dallas gives me a sad smile. "I wanted to be sure you really wanted this. The truth is, I feel like us being on this tour together is the universe allowing me to make up for lost time."

I nuzzle my head beneath his chin so I can listen to his heartbeat. And so I can escape the intense moment where I might say something that I shouldn't. "Lost time?"

"When you decided not to go on the road with us that summer, I was surprised, to say the least. But when you ended things between us, it wasn't something I was at all prepared to deal with. You tried later, to explain, I think. And I handled it like a stupid, c.o.c.ky kid not used to not getting his way when I should've heard you out."

Lying here in postcoital bliss with him exposes my vulnerable side. This is not the route we should be heading down if we're keeping this casual. Rehas.h.i.+ng our past is the opposite of casual.

"I bombed show after show that summer. The tour ended abruptly and we didn't get asked back to a single venue. Want to know why?"

Speaking of bombs, he just dropped one on me. I didn't know this because I spent most of that summer avoiding him.

I take his face in my hands and latch my gaze on to his-needing a physical connection to gather the strength I need to hear this.

Dallas takes my silence for a yes and continues. "Every song I'd written, the majority of the ones on the set list, they were about you. Or at least inspired by you. I couldn't get up there and give it my all when I was singing about a girl who'd dumped my a.s.s."

His confession wedges into a crack in my heart, causing it to take off, beating in triple time.

After kissing him gently on the mouth, I take a deep breath and try my best to explain something I should have told him years ago.

"Dallas, I'm so sorry. I didn't know and I never meant to . . ." To what? Ruin his life? Destroy his dream? No wonder he never wanted to speak to me again. The frustrated anger I saw on his face when I appeared on this tour makes so much more sense now. I try to speak over the lump of emotion constricting my throat. "I should've told you the truth that summer. I should've-"

"It's in the past, Robyn. All of it. And I'm enjoying the h.e.l.l out of our present so I just wanted to clear the air without having that hanging over us."

"We were so young and I-"

His hands tighten around my hips, cutting me off. "I know. And you were right anyway. I needed to focus on my music and you had a full school schedule to deal with. It all worked out how it was meant to, just like you said it would."

I squeeze my eyes shut and try not to wince at how much that hurts to hear. I tried to tell him about my mom, about why I really ended it, a few weeks after our breakup, but he wouldn't hear me out. He avoided me anytime our paths crossed and practically shut down his ability to hear anytime I opened my mouth in his presence, which is understandable since I ruined his tour that summer. So maybe now isn't the time to come clean, either.

But I wasn't right. It was the wrong way to handle it and I know that now. It occurs to me in the form of tears p.r.i.c.king my eyes that if I hadn't ended our relations.h.i.+p abruptly the way that I did, maybe the band would have gotten recognized sooner. Maybe he wouldn't be Dallas Walker solo act and he'd be living his actual dream with his band.

"So Midnight Bay seems like a decent company to work for," he says, completely changing the subject. I should probably feel relieved and yet I don't. "You happy there?"

I nod, swallowing the guilt his apology unearthed from deep in my soul. "Mm-hm."

"You're a hard worker. They're lucky to have you."

"They might not agree if they knew what we were up to right now. It's a family-oriented business with some pretty high moral standards."

"My lips are sealed, sweetheart. Promise. Besides, I'd never let them fire you. I don't know if you've heard, but I'm a pretty big deal these days."

I laugh softly. "Oh yeah? And is it as amazing as you thought it would be? Performing to huge crowds and being on this tour, getting to live your dream?" I trail a manicured finger in circles on the forearm he has wrapped around me while I wait for his answer. Part of me wants to hear that he's happy, that he's just as happy as he would be if he'd made it with his band intact.

"It is. Or at least, I think it is."

I angle around so that I can look him in the face. "You think it is?"

He pulls me closer, kissing me lightly on the lips. "Yeah. For the most part. It's like there's been an exchange of sorts, one I didn't realize I'd agreed to."

"I'm gonna need you to man-'splain that to me, please."

He lets out a small chuckle, then sighs and I feel his chest rise and fall. "It's like I agreed to be this version of myself I didn't expect to have to be. Dallas Walker. Performer Dallas."

I don't say anything as I settle back into the spooning position so he continues on.

"Dallas Lark is 'real me,' you know? The one that you've known for years. The one who hara.s.ses his sister constantly to make sure she's okay. I had a cheeseburger and a slice of apple pie alone in a diner on my birthday and realized that I was actually homesick for a place I'd been planning to leave since the day I arrived. But n.o.body really knows that guy-the one who has pie alone or gets to come back to you after each show and has the pleasure and privilege of tasting and touching you, of filling you and watching you come undone while I-"

"Dallas!" I call out, interrupting him suddenly. "I get the picture. Either move on or we're not going to finish this conversation."

He laughs low in my ear when I wiggle my backside against him.

"I don't know. It's just, I didn't realize that I'd have to cut myself in half, be the two different guys. But that's the price, apparently. I lose my last name but I get to live my dream every night. I don't know if it's an even exchange either way."

My fingers aren't tracing arbitrary circles anymore. They're following the intricate lines of the tattoo that covers his inner forearm. The one that says "Lark" in script.

"Promise me something," I say so low I don't know if he can hear me. "Promise me no matter what, you'll never lose that guy, the one you really are."

His arms tighten around me like a reverse hug and I'm not sure which one of us needs it more.

"I'll try not to."

25 Dallas.

NOT GOING TO MAKE YOUR SHOW THIS WEEKEND. HAVE TO WORK. Couldn't get anyone to trade s.h.i.+fts. Sorry, man.

Gavin's text reads like a load of bulls.h.i.+t.

I heavily suspect the coward is avoiding my sister, but I've vowed to let her be a big girl and not interfere with her personal life so I text him back that I understand and that I hope he can drop by the after party.

After five straight weeks on the road, we're playing in Dallas and it feels kind of good to be home or close to home at least. It's nice to see familiar landmarks and highways anyway.

Today I'm doing radio interviews in Dallas. I text Dixie while I wait in the lobby of KGBX, reminding her that her and Robyn's mom's tickets will be at will-call and that the backstage pa.s.ses will be with them.

"Dallas Walker," a rail-thin slip of a woman in a pencil skirt calls out. "They're ready for you. Come with me."

I stand and follow her down a dim hallway to the recording studio. The publicist Mandy put me in touch with pulled some strings to get me on the nationally syndicated Ricky Ray show while I was in town. It's a huge opportunity, but I'm nervous because I have no idea what he's going to ask. Ricky is known for asking the tough questions and I've been strictly instructed not to answer any involving Jase Wade or his personal life.

My palms are slick so I wipe them on my jeans before shaking the hands of the folks who greet me when the receptionist opens the door.

"Dallas Walker, nice to meet you," a smiling brunette with headphones on tells me. "Just have a seat right there." She gestures to an empty seat on the edge of the L-shaped table. "Be sure you speak clearly into the mic."

"Got it."