But he just seems reticent to rush things. That’s his big excuse: I don’t want to rush things. What the hell is that supposed to mean? We knew each other a matter of months before we had sex together, and it was not much longer than that before we both knew we loved each other. Less than a year, and we were totally serious and committed. How much more rushed can you get? I don’t need more time. It’s not like I’m pressuring him to propose; I don’t expect that level of commitment from him yet. Don’t get me wrong—I’d say yes before he got the words out if he asked, but I know that’s a big deal. It is for me, too, but I think it’s just different for guys, especially one who grew up as nomadic as Oz. He could still get the urge to travel, to move on. I don’t think he’d just up and leave. He’d want me with him, and he knows I’m committed to finishing my degree.
All this means that despite how happy I am, in general, there’s a tiny little nagging bit of impatience inside me. Like a teeny pebble in your shoe, not painful, just…irritating. I want everything with Oz, and I want it now.
As our tour gets closer and closer to Nashville, the more antsy I get. I don’t know why. Oz has been acting odd, too. Going off with Dad at strange times, whispering together. They’re writing a song, I know that much. I know what songwriting looks like, and that’s what they’re doing. But why the secrecy? They always clam up if I get near them, and it’s starting to bug me. Plus, Oz has been on the phone a lot, with I’m not sure whom, or why.
Something’s up, and I want to know what.
A day out of Nashville, our second-to-last show, in Detroit. The Fox Theater is sold out. Oz is jittery, distracted. Mom and Dad are almost done with their set, and Oz and I are getting ready to go on for ours. I take Oz’s hands in mine, stand chest to chest with him, look up into his gray-brown eyes.
“Oz…I know you’re hiding something from me. Just…just tell me if I need to be worried about whatever it is. Tell me if it’s something bad. About me, or us.” I hate how insecure I sound, but I need some kind of reassurance from him.
Oz nudges my forehead with his, sighing. “You don’t need to worry. I know I’ve been acting weird lately, and I’m sorry. It’s nothing bad, I promise. I love you, only you, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“Then what is it?”
He grins at me. “Well, I’m planning a surprise for you. That’s all I’m gonna say.”
I frown. “Can’t you at least give me a hint?”
Oz shakes his head. “Nope. No hints.”
And then we’re on, and there’s no time for talking. We go on, and I have to push away my curiosity, my distraction.
The show was fantastic, but all the way from Detroit to Nashville, Oz is jittery and nervous and strange. Dad keeps looking at me, and then at Oz, and then grinning.
It’s not that I hate surprises; I don’t. I like surprises. I just…this one seems big, for some reason, and I don’t know what to expect. I just have to wait, I guess.
Finally, we reach Nashville and get to spend a night at home in our own beds. Friday night we have an end-of-tour celebratory dinner—Mom and Dad and Oz and I, plus Amy, Gareth, Buddy, and a lot of the crew who’ve been on the road with us since April. They’re like family now, and I know Oz especially has gotten close with some of the guitar techs. It’s good to see, really. I know Oz doesn’t make friends easily, so watching him open up a little to people who are not me or Mom and Dad is cool.
We spend all day Saturday at the Ryman, practicing, putting together our set list, getting everything tuned and dialed in. And then, just when I think I’m going to get a few minutes alone with Oz, he vanishes with Daddy. I turn to Mom, huffing in irritation.
“What the hell is going on with them, Mom?”
Mom just shrugs and shakes her head. “I don’t know, sweetie. It’s a big secret, though. Dad won’t even tell me what’s going on. Says it would ruin the surprise.” She wraps her arm around me. “Here’s a little advice, though, honey. When guys do things like this, on their own, and don’t involve us women in it, you know it’s something romantic. The only time a man will go to these kinds of lengths to keep something secret is if he’s got something huge and sexy and sweet up his sleeve. I really, really don’t think you need to be worried. Just…be prepared for anything.”
I lean into her. “He’s never secretive. It’s weirding me out.”
Mom laughs. “I know, honey. But try not to freak out. Oz loves you, and that’s all that really matters, right?”
I nod and try to push away the worry. “Right.”
Eventually, Oz and Daddy come back, and we four have dinner together. Oz and Dad act like nothing at all is amiss, so I try not to as well. Later that night, as Oz and I let ourselves into his apartment, I decide to try a little seduction-interrogation.
As soon as the door is locked behind us, I push Oz’s back against the wall, take his keys from him, toss them aside, not caring where they land. Oz’s eyes are narrowed, as if he knows what I’m planning. He’s wearing a plain white button-down, which I make short work of removing, leaving him deliciously sexy in just blue jeans and boots. I pause to strip, peeling my T-shirt, bra, jeans, and panties off in record time. Naked now, I kiss my way from his jaw to his chest, down his ribs to his navel. I slip the end of his belt out of the buckle, unbutton his jeans, tug them down. The act of getting his jeans past his hips has pulled the waistband of his boxers down just far enough to let the tip of his c**k show, and I grin up at him.
He licks his lips and sucks in a deep breath. “Kylie, babe. What are you planning on doing down there?”
I slide his boxers off, keeping my eyes on him. “What do you think I’m planning on doing down here?”
“I think you’re fishing for information.”
I wrap my lips around him and suck hard, tasting his flesh and the essence that begins to seep out of his tip onto my tongue. When he’s groaning, I lift my mouth off him. “Is it working?”
“Nope.” He tangles his fingers in my hair. “You might have to try again.”
I laugh, and then comply. This time, I grip him at the base and slide my fingers around his thickness as I work the head with my lips and tongue. He starts moving in time with my suction, and when I know he’s close, I take my mouth away. “How about now? Tell me what’s going on, and I’ll let you come in my mouth. I know how much you love that, and it’s been a while. Since Montana, right? You know you want it.”