WILDER: A Rockstar Romance by Vivian Lux Page A

view of the passing highways.
    Ruthless had spent the last week playing a series of dates in California. We were now headed out east on I-10, our early morning start calculated down to the precise second to land us in Phoenix in time for the sound check. Everyone had fallen asleep almost immediately, so in tune were they with touring. But I couldn't help but feel the snub. They were back there, snug inside the lushly appointed bunks that lined the back of the bus, and I was up here writing about them. 
    I knew them all, but no one had bothered to even say hi.
    The first time I became aware of Keir Wilder, it was not from sight.
    It was from sound.
    I leaned back again, trying to put my thoughts into words. I grew up with music that had no consequence. It wasn't expressly forbidden, more like something we just didn't "do." Music was background noise in the grocery store and the pop station piped in at my father's dental practice. I didn't know that music could make me feel until the start of the afternoon run I always tried to squeeze in before dinner and homework took me past the Wilder garage at the precise moment the fledgling band called Ruthless started playing.
    I had seen Keir before, jogging through the neighborhood. Sometimes he caught up with me and we jogged together.  I thought he was hot in a dangerous sort of way, and also thought he was way too old for me.
    I had seen him before, yes. But that was the first day I heard him.
    I felt the vibrations reverberate through my chest. The soles of my feet tingled.
    And then Keir started to sing. A bluesman's wail, a honeyed scream. Ragged and raw and full of all the emotions I had never been allowed to feel. I stopped short on the sidewalk, my run forgotten as I felt the power of music for the very first time.
    I didn't know how long I stood there, but by the time Keir finished his song, I was a different girl. The kind of girl who nodded when he beckoned me into that dirty garage.
    I set my pen down again. The next part was too painful to share. But the words were flowing too fast to stem the tide. I picked it back up again and turned to a blank page in my notebook.
    Walking into his house after practice felt like I was breaking some taboo. "Want something to eat?" he asked casually.
    "It's not dinner time yet," I pointed out.
    He looked over his shoulder. "What does that matter?"
    "Well, it's not time to eat."
    He let out a small laugh. "I literally just heard your stomach growl," he said.
    I felt flush on my cheek. How did I explain that hunger didn't matter? Meals were at set times, with food my mother chose. Just doing this? Just walking in and taking food from the unlocked fridge? It was making me feel distinctly uneasy.
    "Scarlett," Keir said gently. "What do you want to eat?"
    I tried to quell my rising panic. "Do you have a piece of fruit?" I asked, my voice high and tight.
    He chuckled as he opened the fridge. "Maybe? Not really sure. I think we’re going to head up to the grocery store pretty soon."
    "You guys do your own grocery shopping?"
    "Yeah." He slammed the fridge shut with a bang that made me jump. But no parental figure jumped out of the woodwork to yell at him for making too much noise. "My dad works a lot. He needs us to help him out."
    He said it so casually. They were a team, I realized. His dad, his brother and him. Looking out for each other. And his father...his father trusted him to do the right thing when he went to the grocery store. He didn't need to be watching over his shoulder to make sure that he bought the right kind of milk, the right kind of bread. And I had a feeling that if he bought the wrong kind, there wouldn't be a three-hour screaming lecture to follow.
    That night, my mother came into my room as I was scrambling to finish the homework I neglected that long, perfect afternoon.
    I froze as she entered.
    My mother allowed me my runs, but I was certain she'd be able to tell that I had skipped today's workout in favor of