Playing Autumn (Breathe Rockstar Romance Book 1) Read online

  PLAYING AUTUMN

  Breathe Music, Book 1

  Mina V. Esguerra

  About Playing Autumn

  The last thing Haley Reese wants to do is head home to Houston. It’s been years since she pursued a career in music and mentoring at the annual Breathe Music Festival makes her feel like a fraud. But after sharing a plane ride with her idol, rock star Oliver Cabrera, things start looking up.

  Oliver hasn't called any place "home" since he started touring professionally in his teens. With his career just about over, he decides to accepts an invitation to mentor at the Breathe Music Festival. Helping Haley just might be the distraction Oliver needs.

  Playing Autumn

  Copyright © 2015 by Mina V. Esguerra

  Cover Design by CT Cover Creations

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Chapter 1

  Thursday

  Two people in an airport on a Thursday. That was all Haley Reese expected this to be.

  She recognized Oliver Cabrera right away (duh), and immediately her brain and other vital systems threatened to shut down. Why—how—what—when—huh—

  It took her about twenty seconds, a personal record, to reassemble herself and remember that she wasn't thirteen years old anymore. She was twenty-two, an adult, an accomplished musician herself, and was absolutely not going to squee at the sight of the guy who used to star in most of her teenage dreams and daytime fantasies.

  Good job, Haley. This was bound to happen one day. Which fantasy was this?

  Ah yes. She had one daydream, conjured up during a torturous three-hour wait at the dentist's office when she was in junior high, involving Oliver Cabrera showing up—and being told by the mean dentist's assistant that he had to wait too, like everyone else, never mind if his tooth hurt like he had a jackhammer to his gums. No problem, Oliver would say, smiling through the pain, because he was cool like that. And then he would sit next to her.

  She would be cool, too. Really cool. He wouldn’t even be able to tell that she was probably in the top ten of his biggest fans. Her calm exterior wouldn’t betray the posters she had up in her room, the recordings of all his performances (in multiple copies), the subscriptions to all the major newsletters, fan groups, and forums. She was just another girl with a toothache, like him. No big.

  When Haley first came up with that, she had no idea that she was going to be leaving home to take a job in Tampa, didn't know that she would be spending any amount of time at TPA, didn't realize that this very airport was where her path and his would finally cross. She thought that magical moment would happen in New York City, where he lived and where she would make a musical pilgrimage to one day. The next most likely location would have been Houston, his hometown and hers, maybe at a wedding of a friend they apparently had in common.

  She did not expect Tampa. She was not prepared for this.

  Their eyes met. She didn’t expect that shade of brown, lighter than every photo of him had ever let on. He paused for a moment, cocked his head to one side, and smiled. She gave him a tiny nod and lifted her magazine up, focusing on it, pretending to be really interested in the headlines. Something about a food security breakthrough. How we shouldn’t forget about malaria, or was it mining?

  He took a seat on the same row as hers, keeping a vacant chair between them, the way normal people traveling alone did when they were hanging out by the boarding gate. (When she was thirteen, she didn't know this either.)

  Hmm, Haley thought, absorbing her peripheral view of him. He's a regular guy. He doesn't look like the kid on my computer wallpaper anymore.

  No, he actually looked hotter.

  Because Oliver grew up in the public eye, Haley was witness to several phases of his looks. The first one was the scrawny, twelve-year-old Oliver, with the stringy dark hair, the intense look in his eye, violin in his hand. She first set her eyes on that guy when she was ten years old, watching him on that talent show week after week, like everyone else.

  She was never a Tomorrow’s Talent junkie, by the way, as she was quick to claim on every introduction to every forum she’d ever been on. But she was “turned” upon hearing him awkwardly introduce himself, with almost no stage presence at all, chewing on the microphone. Her parents were watching too and scoffed that he’d get no votes at all, but then he started playing. Sure, everyone could tell that he was talented right then, but she always thought she believed in him a split-second before everyone else did. Also, she was ten.

  Then there was the “serious music” phase, when he was part of a symphony orchestra, slicked back hair and slightly more muscular than usual. After he won TT, he could have been an instant pop star but no, he went the path his parents took instead and played classical music professionally all over the world. She’d read somewhere that it caused drama behind the scenes with the show; they were expecting to be able to sell him as a teen idol. He ended up releasing a handful of songs, probably whatever was contractually obligated, and then toured the world playing Brahms.

  It was so badass.

  She had all but dropped the fascination when he disappeared from that for a few years, but then he resurfaced as an “adult alternative” rock prince at age nineteen, with stubble, highlights, and a guitar.

  Dear God. The Oliver forums and “Olivette” list lit up like Christmas and eventually dripped with lust. It wasn't a look or a sound that she necessarily enjoyed or wanted for him, but at the time she was possessive, and supportive, and still hanging on to her teens.

  Oliver right now in the airport looked like another version of himself though. Clean-shaven this time, which Haley appreciated. She didn't like the beard.

  She lightly pinched her own arm, to remind her to come back to the present. It was Thursday morning, and she was on a weekend trip to her hometown to help with the Breathe Music Festival that her best friend Victoria was organizing. It was a small but important gathering for young musicians, singers, pretty much anyone who had music in their souls and no one to share it with. It was a weekend that was so important to her when she was younger. She met Victoria there at fourteen, their first year at Breathe Music. Haley played the piano; Victoria the cello. They showed up the following year to be volunteers. (Victoria had dropped the cello by then and was playing guitar.) And when they graduated from the University of Saint Thomas together, Victoria gave up the pretense of playing entirely and professionally took on the role of event organizer.

  Haley had just moved to Florida earlier in the summer. When she packed her bags to take the teaching job in Tampa, she had intended to move for good. Victoria, as the festival organizer, didn’t get the memo and started sending her the mentorship information and flight details for her weekend trip back to Houston specifically for Breathe Music.

  She was ready to say no to this trip. It was weird to have officially started a job in June only to take a trip back home in October, weeks before Thanksgiving, when she had already told her employer that she’d be flying back for the holidays.

  Also, for reasons she hadn’t yet shared with Victoria, she didn’t want to be part of the festival anymore.

  You have to be here you can’t miss it you have to be here
it’s so important I swear it’s so important, Victoria texted in response, without proper punctuation.

  On the same day, she received an email from Cass, another friend from Houston: I’m back! Moving back permanently—at least until the next thing. But I hear you’re coming over for your music festival thing. Please see me right away? I’ll drop by the festival. Don’t let the weekend go by without me seeing you. Lots of catching up to do!

  Victoria and Cass were friendly with each other, but not friends themselves. She’d met them at different times, and the only reason they’d ever be in the same room was because Haley put them there. The synchronized messages demanding she be in Houston now please felt like a coincidence, or a setup.

  Then there was Logan, someone she was still trying to avoid, who also insisted on dinner. Saturday. Insisted.

  Not that Haley ever thought the world revolved around her. No. On the contrary, it seemed to leave her behind a little bit, with every revolution. It was rare that she was vehemently wanted back in town. So she sucked it up and had that awkward conversation with her boss, socialite Anastacia Lee, to ask for two long weekends off within a month of each other. Surprisingly, her boss was okay with it, but then there was that thing she said when she dropped Haley off at the airport:

  “I think we should talk about the recital, Haley.”

  “You mean Sophie's piece?”

  “No, I mean after.”

  “She'll probably want to celebrate with her friends. It's perfectly normal.”

  “No, I mean you. After. We'll talk about it when you get back. Enjoy your trip.”

  Haley knew what that meant. Don't panic, don't panic. This job was supposed to be the beginning of a music-related life that earned money, finally. Did it not want her around anymore?

  “This is headed to Bush International, right?” Oliver asked her, and it wasn't happening in her head. It was happening right then and there. Haley opened her mouth but no sound came out.

  “What?” he said.

  “Yes,” she squeaked. “I mean, yes. Houston. This is it.”

  “It says Fort Lauderdale.”

  “I know, but that's a glitch. They assured me that we're going to Houston.”

  He looked toward the screen that clearly did not say that and shrugged. “So we're just going to have to trust all these people right?”

  “I don't think they're trying to play a trick on us.”

  “I don't know. But suddenly I want to check out Fort Lauderdale.”

  Small talk. By Oliver Cabrera. If there was anything that was going to get her to stop worrying about her possible unemployment, this was it. “You should, maybe. It's not bad.” Stay cool. That’s it. Good job, Reese. You can be witty another time. Don’t embarrass yourself.

  “Is this a thing? Load people in a vehicle and take them somewhere else? Surprise tourism? Is that how they do it these days?”

  He’s still talking to me. Seriously, Haley was running out of non-idiotic things to say. Her daydreams ended before this point and were never this detailed. “What you're suggesting,” Haley said, “is like kidnapping. Or really bad service.”

  Oliver's laugh was short and melodramatic, and she blushed a little because she interpreted it as flirty. It was probably not flirty at all, if an objective party were to judge it.

  “They tell me I have a problem with my imagination,” he told her.

  She was all out of prepped lines. The real Haley would actually have to talk to him now. She cleared her throat and went with it. “Because you use it? Don't believe them. How else do you survive a flight delay?”

  “With conversation,” Oliver answered.

  Chapter 2

  Who was she again?

  Oliver Cabrera had long since given up on remembering every name and face he met on the road, in fancy executive lounges, and airports. He approached the beautiful young woman waiting near the boarding gate because his fear—no, it wasn't really a fear—had returned. But when he got close enough to see her face, he actually recognized her. Sort of. Almost.

  Maybe he went to school with her? Except the last time he was actually in regular school was the fifth grade, and apart from Chris Minot (now his manager, then his neighbor), he had no idea where his friends from there were and what they looked like.

  He'd remember her if he actually knew her then. He was sure of it. And if she didn't look like that as an eleven-year-old, then good job growing up. She had wonderfully bright not-quite-red hair tumbling down her shoulders unself-consciously. The slight touch of pink on her nose and cheekbones looked like actual sun exposure, which he didn't see enough of. Much as he respected people who knew their SPF, that unintentionally sun-kissed thing was a turn-on.

  So he tried talking to her, in case it would jog his memory, but it didn't. Yet. Hearing her voice actually made the nagging feeling worse.

  In any case, she didn't react like an old friend to his sudden appearance. Or better, she didn’t seem like a bitter ex, because there were a few of those in his past too. In fact, she didn't react all that much. She would be able to help with the Not-Fear nicely.

  The fear that was not a fear, by the way, was this thing he had, a general discomfort whenever he had to ride public transport and not know who might be sitting nearby. He had a problem, he knew. One among several.

  During the height of his solo career, four years and an eternity ago, he managed to live a life that required a lot of travel but never alone. Or he got to ensure that no strangers would be breathing the same air as soon as he exhaled.

  But the solo career was no longer at its height, and was in fact close to the bottom or at that very spot, so he couldn't be an ass about this. Not anymore.

  The dread over this flight in general could also be explained by the unsavory mission that was powering it. Oliver was rarely in a position of being someone’s only hope, and he managed to stumble into being a so-called “only hope” for himself, his best friend in the world, and the very army of people who made him what he was.

  So maybe it was that, huh? And not some irrational, childhood Not-Fear. It was frightening, to the point of paralysis, to be a reluctant savior.

  ***

  It wasn't a full flight, and he was relieved to see that she had her row to herself. So as soon as the “fasten seat belt” sign was off, he jumped out of his seat and asked to join her.

  “Are they going to let you do that?” she said, but it looked like she was going to, anyway.

  Oliver took the aisle seat, leaving the middle free, hoping the gesture made her feel that he wasn't a creepy seat-jumper. “I do this all the time,” he said nonchalantly. When he was a kid, yes. And when he flew coach. Both those events were separated from today by more than a decade.

  He buckled up, tossed her a smile as she watched him, and settled in.

  She was smiling all right, but it was the cautious smile of someone looking at a rattlesnake. “You're going to tell me what this is about, right?” she said. “Because I can press a button and those flight attendants will be so on you.”

  “Of course. I'm sorry, I didn't get your name—”

  “Haley.”

  “Haley, I'm Oliver. What you're doing is helping someone who has, um, quirks whenever he has to travel like this. Believe me, you're being a hero right now.”

  She frowned a little. “Is it a fear of flying?”

  “No no no, nothing as simple as that,” Oliver said. He took a deep breath and might have inhaled some of Haley's perfume at the same time. He had no clue how to identify the stuff, but it smelled good. Comforting. Clean. He felt the nerves start to go away. “It's more of the not knowing who I'll be sitting with.”

  “What?”

  “It's not a phobia.”

  “You mean if you knew whom you were sitting with, you'll be okay?”

  “Yes, that makes things loads easier.”

  It looked to him that Haley's wall had started to come down, and maybe she wasn't going to sic the flight attendant
s on him after all. “So why do you still travel alone?”

  “I try not to. This one couldn't be avoided.”

  “Okay.” She looked like she was going to start reading her magazine again, but then: “Are you like this in buses too?”

  He usually did not want to talk about this, but what the hell. He owed her that. “And trains.”

  “How about cars?”

  “Not cars.”

  “The plane isn't full. You can't go to an empty row?”

  Oliver shook his head, taking another deep breath. “You don't understand. If I take an empty row, the next three hours will be spent obsessing over who might move to my row. There will be dread.”

  “So your solution is to move to my row. The one I had all to myself.”

  He'd been like this for as long as he could remember after what he suspected was an incident at a school bus that he'd blocked out. But his parents were professional musicians who performed across the country all the time, and he had flown with them often, so who knew when and where it actually happened?

  “No one's going to take the middle seat,” Oliver said, “And I'm comfortable with you now. Trust me, this is the best way for me to take this flight without freaking out.”

  “This is so weird,” Haley said, but now she was amused at least. “What an odd phobia.”

  “It's not a phobia,” Oliver insisted. “It's a thing. A problem. That you've already helped with. Are you visiting or going home?”

  “What?”

  “Houston.”

  “Oh. Both, kind of. I grew up there but live in Tampa now. Since the summer started, anyway.”

  “Do you work there?”

  “Yeah. I teach.”

  “Do you like it?”

  Haley set down her reading material. “Yes, I do. I'm a tutor for the kids of a really rich family. What are you doing now, Oliver?”