In Your Dreams

54 || Emmett Larkin

She knows something. The way Phoebe acts—clueless and avoidant—makes it clear she’s keeping something from us. Maybe Asher asked her not to say anything, but she’s making it painfully obvious that it’s not some trivial piece of information. As the band leader, I have the right to know if something’s up with one of my members. I mean, it's always had been that way. Whenever someone had some kind of problems, I am willing to do everything to help them out.

This band isn't just some hobby we collectively agree to be in. This is like a second family. So whenever someone have a bad day, I'm willing to do everything to help. But how would I help when I don't even know what happened? Asher doesn't want to mutter a single word at me and kept avoiding the question whenever I try to ask him. And once Asher made up his mind on hiding something he'll kept on hiding that until the day arrives when he's finally ready to speak.

If Asher won’t talk to me, I’ll just have to get close to Phoebe and find out myself. Even if it means risking my heart again.

I make my way toward her as she adjusts a microphone stand, clearly struggling to twist it loose. She looks up the moment she senses me approaching, her cheeks faintly coloring. At least her instincts are still sharp—though I don’t miss how flustered she gets whenever I’m nearby.

I waited until she took a few more tries on twisting it loose before taking another step forward. "Having trouble with that?" I ask, a smirk playing on my lips. Her grip tightens on the stand, and I catch the determination in her eyes as she tries again to adjust it.

She groans and finally steps back with an exasperated sigh. I watch as she shakes her hand to relieve the painful tight grip she had on the metallic stand. "Who tightened this? It might be stuck or it's just too tight." A soft laugh escapes her, light and airy, filling the space between us. As well as filling the emptiness inside of me. It stirs something in me, but I push it aside. "Was it you? Did you do this on purpose?" she huffs, snapping me back to reality.

I blink several times at her, until my consciousness came back fully. "Me? Why would you think that?" I ask, feigning innocence as I point to myself.

Phoebe narrows her gaze, her tone playful but suspicious. "You’ve got that look. The smirking, ‘I’m totally messing with you’ look. You always wear that look whenever you had something to do with anything that's ridiculous happening around me." She shakes her head, brushing it off. "Never mind. Just help me, will you?"

Oh, great. I hadn’t realized I was smiling. Most of the time, I’m aware of it when my lips betray me, but around her, it’s like I’ve lost control. I try not to think about the kiss—the one I automatically returned without a second thought. Damn it. I did kiss her back, didn't I? That's why my brain was stuck on repeating that scene over and over again. It's a reminder that I, too, had contribute to that madness.

"Sure," I say, stepping in. Phoebe moves aside as I lean down, gripping the stand tightly and twisting the lock loose. Once it’s free, I adjust it until it’s level with her height, lock it again, and step back. "There. Happy?"

She checks the height and flashes me a smile. "Thanks." Then, almost as if she can read my mind, she shakes her head and adds, "But don’t think this means I’m going to tell you what I know about Asher."

Damn it. So much for kindness earning me some leverage.

Feigning surprise, I shake my head. "That wasn’t my intention."

"Oh, really?" She raises a brow, her lips curving into a sly grin. "Emmett Larkin, Mr. Helpful? All out of the goodness of his heart? Please." She crosses her arms and tilts her head, that knowing smirk not leaving her face. "You’re not exactly subtle, you know. You’ve been avoiding me ever since... you know."