Rhythm, Chord & Malykhin Read Online Free PDF

nervous it reached epic proportions.
    “It was an accident!” I told the guy in front of me. I couldn’t look at him directly, not even close. Somehow, at some point, I’d linked my fingers together and covered my forehead with my palms without even noticing it. My eyes went wide as I dragged my hands down the sides of my face until I was cupping my cheeks. “I thought you were Mason” wheezed out of my mouth.
    The real Mason only laughed harder from his spot ten feet away.
    Out of nowhere, the guy in front of me, whose ass had just become friendly with my foot, laughed. It was a sweet, clear sound.
    And it reminded me of the guy who had just finished singing.
    No . Please, no. Don’t let it be him.
    “It’s fine,” the warm voice chuckled.
    Grumbling deep in my chest, at myself more than anything, an awkward smile covered my face as I finally started to shift my gaze, because what the hell else was I supposed to do? “I’m really—”
    Tattoos.
    All I caught at first was the thick swirl that painted his pectoral, followed by the tattooed bands of black ink that striped the length of his arm. Then there were the tattoos on half of his neck, located on the same side as his full-sleeve tattoo. Hello. Yeah, after the first quick glance I realized his imposter only had one full-sleeve tattoo versus two. Way to go, idiot. My friend didn’t have any tattoos on his chest, but it wasn’t like I’d seen him from the front beforehand anyway.
    My eyes strayed back to the hard, flat muscles that packed his chest and checkered abs, and then the narrow hips that flowed seamlessly into the slim-fitting black slacks that had paraded around the stage less than an hour before.
    Fuck my life. It was him. The singer for the band.
    Whyyyyyy .
    “I’m so sorry,” I breathed out, forcing myself to drag my eyes all the way up. If I kept on looking at his bare chest any longer, I’d officially earn my Hussy Merit Badge.
    The guy was smirking at me, folding long, muscular arms across his chest. It was right then that I asked myself if I’d died. He was… I don’t think a proper word exists to describe the face above the body I’d been just short of ogling. Mason was a specimen worthy of all the attention he received, but this guy was… just… oof . Just as good looking in a completely different way, mainly because he wasn’t my lifelong friend whose looks I’d become almost desensitized to.
    Most importantly though: I had just kicked a hot guy, a stranger, a man I was going to be spending the next three months with, in the ass.
    Again I asked myself why. Why. Why hadn’t I just kept my foot to myself? All I wanted was to pull a turtle and hide in my shell.
    As much as he looked like Mason from the neck down, their faces were very different. While Mase looked like a model for a cologne line, with his almost androgynous features that had gotten him called a pretty boy hundreds of times in the past, this other guy wasn’t so classic. His bone structure was a little harsher and his eyes deeper set. They both had black hair but it was cut differently. This man’s was shaved down at the sides, the top just a couple inches long, while my childhood friend’s hair was a good length all over. But still, the faint resemblance was there.
    “E! Flabby kicked Sacha in the ass!” Mason cried out, basically cackling as he bent over from how hard he was laughing.
    I felt Eliza’s heavy hand on my shoulder before I heard his snort. “Fucking Flabby,” my brother laughed, slipping a heavy and sweaty arm over me. “Does that mean I don’t have to introduce you after all?”
    The man I could safely assume was Sacha—a guy, for the record, not the girl that the dumbass I’d shared a womb with led me to believe he was—shook his head before extending a hand out in my direction. “Sacha,” he said after I dropped my hands from my forehead and took my outstretched palm in his. “It’s nice to meet you, Flabby.”
    The elbow I