Read Gauge: Rockstar Romance (The ProVokaTiv Series Book 1) for Free Online
Authors: Cara Nelson
least expected it. The bright flowers of reds, melons, and yellow tones in the large clay pots were what lured you in, wanting to go up and touch them, feel the petals that looked so velvety, and then it happened. You were ensnared. It was Savannah’s version of a Venus Flytrap.
“It almost seems like it could be a different country here, don’t you think?” I asked.
“Agreed.”
‘So, how do you know this area as well as you do, Gauge?”
“I’ve been here before,” he said.
“Oh, on tour?”
“No.”
I rolled my eyes. Why did he make everything so damn hard at sometimes? It wasn’t like I was asking him about something intimate or really personal. At least I didn’t think he was. “When, then?”
“When I was a kid my grandma took me here on a vacation.”
“Did you appreciate it?”
“No,” he said plainly. “I was nine or ten, maybe, and I thought it was boring as hell. I appreciate it more now, though.”
“That’s pretty special. My grandparents weren’t the vacationing sort, so I never did anything like that with them. I did love going out to their farm, though, and running around when I was a kid.”
“A farm?”
“Don’t be so judgmental. Farms are great.”
“Plan on owning one someday?”
“Never,” I said.
“Did you milk a cow?”
I laughed. “Not all farms have cows, you know. And to answer your question, no, I didn’t.”
“All city.”It was only two words but I felt like he was judging me by liking the city.
“I was born in the city. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He shrugged.
I kept talking. His mood was hard to keep up with. Casual one second, and that darkness coming through the next. “I like the access but Minneapolis is pretty tame; it’s no LA or NYC.”
“Ever been there?”
“Yeah.”
“Lots of musicians around there. You should appreciate that, I’d imagine. A lot of great talent comes out of the cities, and there’s some awesome recording studios there, too. ”
“We cut our first album there.”
“Really? I didn’t know that. ” I lied. I did know that but wanted him to talk. I wanted to listen.
“Now you do. All sorts of riveting information for your story, huh?”
“We have a different idea of riveting, Gauge.”
For the remainder of our lunch we talked as casually as I would with Jessie or Trinity. I was a bit preoccupied with trying to figure out how to weave my way into a place with him where he’d talk freely to me. That was usually easy for me to do with anyone—work related or not. Then there was this chemistry we seemed to have, fleeting and sparking. You didn’t have to know exactly what it was to know it was there.
“I have to go,” Gauge said suddenly.
“Okay,” I said. It was like a switch had flipped in him. He was slightly OCD, I decided.
“Time to get ready for the show,” he added.
Of course! I should have thought of that. “Are you coming back to the hotel now?”
“Yeah, I want to get to the concert as early as I can.”
The bill was paid and Gauge got a taxi to take us back to the hotel. I noticed that he saw some people pointing at him and he knew he’d been spotted. It either made him uncomfortable to be spotted by fans or he liked to run into them on his terms. He would have had to be an idiot to not think that through on his journey to fame. He wasn’t an idiot, so I decided he liked everything on his terms.
By the time we got back to our hotel at 4 PM, I had built up so much intrigue with Gauge in my mind. I’d loved the day and I dug it that he didn’t feel like he had to talk, talk, talk, and try to be interesting. It was an odd thought for a journalist, but just as they say, pictures are worth a thousand words—something I dispute—silence is sometimes worth a thousand words, too, or at least a page’s worth of content in my mind for my story.
“I had a really great day,” I said.
“I had fun, too. See you later. ”
“Later.” I watched him walk over to the elevator in
“It almost seems like it could be a different country here, don’t you think?” I asked.
“Agreed.”
‘So, how do you know this area as well as you do, Gauge?”
“I’ve been here before,” he said.
“Oh, on tour?”
“No.”
I rolled my eyes. Why did he make everything so damn hard at sometimes? It wasn’t like I was asking him about something intimate or really personal. At least I didn’t think he was. “When, then?”
“When I was a kid my grandma took me here on a vacation.”
“Did you appreciate it?”
“No,” he said plainly. “I was nine or ten, maybe, and I thought it was boring as hell. I appreciate it more now, though.”
“That’s pretty special. My grandparents weren’t the vacationing sort, so I never did anything like that with them. I did love going out to their farm, though, and running around when I was a kid.”
“A farm?”
“Don’t be so judgmental. Farms are great.”
“Plan on owning one someday?”
“Never,” I said.
“Did you milk a cow?”
I laughed. “Not all farms have cows, you know. And to answer your question, no, I didn’t.”
“All city.”It was only two words but I felt like he was judging me by liking the city.
“I was born in the city. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He shrugged.
I kept talking. His mood was hard to keep up with. Casual one second, and that darkness coming through the next. “I like the access but Minneapolis is pretty tame; it’s no LA or NYC.”
“Ever been there?”
“Yeah.”
“Lots of musicians around there. You should appreciate that, I’d imagine. A lot of great talent comes out of the cities, and there’s some awesome recording studios there, too. ”
“We cut our first album there.”
“Really? I didn’t know that. ” I lied. I did know that but wanted him to talk. I wanted to listen.
“Now you do. All sorts of riveting information for your story, huh?”
“We have a different idea of riveting, Gauge.”
For the remainder of our lunch we talked as casually as I would with Jessie or Trinity. I was a bit preoccupied with trying to figure out how to weave my way into a place with him where he’d talk freely to me. That was usually easy for me to do with anyone—work related or not. Then there was this chemistry we seemed to have, fleeting and sparking. You didn’t have to know exactly what it was to know it was there.
“I have to go,” Gauge said suddenly.
“Okay,” I said. It was like a switch had flipped in him. He was slightly OCD, I decided.
“Time to get ready for the show,” he added.
Of course! I should have thought of that. “Are you coming back to the hotel now?”
“Yeah, I want to get to the concert as early as I can.”
The bill was paid and Gauge got a taxi to take us back to the hotel. I noticed that he saw some people pointing at him and he knew he’d been spotted. It either made him uncomfortable to be spotted by fans or he liked to run into them on his terms. He would have had to be an idiot to not think that through on his journey to fame. He wasn’t an idiot, so I decided he liked everything on his terms.
By the time we got back to our hotel at 4 PM, I had built up so much intrigue with Gauge in my mind. I’d loved the day and I dug it that he didn’t feel like he had to talk, talk, talk, and try to be interesting. It was an odd thought for a journalist, but just as they say, pictures are worth a thousand words—something I dispute—silence is sometimes worth a thousand words, too, or at least a page’s worth of content in my mind for my story.
“I had a really great day,” I said.
“I had fun, too. See you later. ”
“Later.” I watched him walk over to the elevator in