Ever Lonely (Ever James Band Book 1)

by Kimberly Lauren

  I smiled and warmed to him again. I had no doubt his honesty would always have that effect on me. It was just so authentic. I ran my hand down the side of his face. “You’ll get used to it.”

  His hands dipped into the large armholes of my shirt and grazed the skin on my sides. I shivered at his touch. His thumbs kissed the underside of my breasts over my bra. He bit his bottom lip just a fraction, and my stomach did a little flip because he was too damn sexy. I threaded my fingers into his wild hair, just so I could have an excuse to get closer to him.

  “I don’t think there’s anything about you I’ll ever get used to, Pipes,” he professed against my lips.

  — NINETEEN —

  “Rhett in there?” I asked a random assistant roaming the hallway of Wake Up, America. We were set to go live in front of millions of viewers soon. Too soon. Especially when our lead guitarist and co-vocalist was freaking missing!

  Just as the last seven people had done, the guy shook his head and averted his gaze before rushing off in the opposite direction. I peeked my head inside another dressing room and came up empty—yet again. Seriously, how did a six-foot-one sexy-as-hell man just disappear?

  The first place I’d looked was the stage where he had placed his guitar earlier. He usually gravitated toward the wooden instrument, but no luck this time. I’d also checked the one balcony they had available, since he had a thing for being outdoors in high places. Not there, either. Then I’d checked the craft services table where they had food and, most importantly, straws because he had an oral fixation. Still no Rhett.

  Nixon came barreling around the corner, donning his newest hairstyle. The sides were short, but the top was long and sticking almost straight up in an impressive silvery tone of platinum blonde. It looked sick, and I was envious the second I spotted it this morning. He’d immediately shut down any thoughts I had of getting the same color.

  “Found him,” Nixon bellowed when he reached me in the narrow hallway.

  “Thank Christ.” I blew out a breath of relief. “Where?”

  “Alex said he’ll have him out in two minutes sharp.”

  “We go on in ten minutes!” I glanced at my watch. “Where is he?”

  "Give him a second," Nixon responded. It was that answer that told me something was up.

  I continued down the hall where Nixon had just come from. He sighed heavily and told me to try the third door on the left. Stepping inside what looked like an employee break room, I spotted Alex leaning against a vending machine, scrolling through his phone. His green eyes met mine as I searched the room for his best friend.

  “I told Nixon I’d have him out,” he grumbled.

  I ignored Alex and marched across the linoleum floor to a closed door—the only door in this godforsaken building I hadn’t checked.

  “Ever, give him a second,” Alex protested, repeating Nixon’s words from just moments ago. We didn’t have a fucking second.

  I pushed the metal door open, and my stomach dropped at the sight of Rhett. He was slumped against the wall, his face buried in between his knees with his hands wrapped around his bent legs. I could see the muscles in his back twitching even through his dark gray t-shirt. Sweat dotted the back of his neck.

  I squatted as low as my skinny black jeans would allow and placed my hand on Rhett’s back, causing his muscles to instantly tense.

  “Hey handsome,” I whispered gently. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m good,” he practically moaned. “I’ll meet you on the… on the…”

  “Stage?” I offered.

  Just then, he shot forward and retched repeatedly over the toilet, though nothing came out. I assumed he had already cleared the contents of his stomach while I’d been searching for him.

  “Do you have a bug?”

  “Yes.” His voice echoed in the toilet.

  “Are you lying?”

  “Yes,” he repeated. “Look… I’m just being a pussy. I’ll get it together in two minutes. Tops.”

  I relaxed. He wasn’t sick. Whatever this was, he would be okay.

  Watching him freak out made me think about my first major appearance. My whole body had broken out in a cold sweat, and everyone sounded as if they were at the far end of a very long tunnel. Next thing I knew, five people were standing over me with wide eyes. I had flat out fainted fifteen minutes before opening for Maroon 5 in Dallas.

  “You’re not a pussy,” I offered. “Here… sit back. You’re not going to be sick anymore.” Maybe if I commanded it, it would be true. I called for Alex, who quickly brought me a water bottle and—bless him—a toothbrush already loaded with a minty toothpaste ribbon on top.

  "Take a drink, babe." I held the plastic bottle to his lips, and he took several long gulps. "Brush up."

  He sluggishly grabbed hold of the toothbrush and went to town on his teeth. By the time he was done, his pasty skin had started to regain its normal color. “Alex,” he croaked.

  Alex reappeared with a travel-sized bottle of neon green mouthwash.

  “You’re like a fairy godmother,” I said, looking up at him in admiration. Alex would make a good assistant. It was always necessary to have an assistant that could think at least three steps ahead of you.

  I rubbed Rhett’s back. "I don't understand how you can be so nervous. You played for thousands of people in the subway, and you've obviously played in that bar a few times in the past. You didn’t look like you had an ounce of nerves.”

  Rhett held up a finger as he poured the mouthwash in, and then he swished, gargled, and swished some more. He spat the remainder of the liquid in the toilet and flushed it all away. When his bright blue eyes finally looked at me, I could see the fear still there.

  “This isn’t the same,” he responded quietly. “Every viewer on the television will be tuned in to see what I’m going to do. They’re watching to judge the newest member of an already well-established kickass band. I’m the one they are going to criticize. To see if I’m good enough to sing with you. Those people in the subway are passing through, and I just happen to be there. Same with the bar. I’m background noise.” He swiped the back of his hand across his forehead. “But this…”—his hand gestured to the door—“with millions of viewers…”

  His face started to turn a little green, and I jumped. "No! You WILL NOT throw up!"

  A smile broke through, and the green faded away for a second time. He even let a little laugh escape. "You can't just order me not to be sick."

  “Just did.” I smiled back.

  He pulled out a cigarette from inside his jacket and stuck it between his lips.

  I sighed. “You and your oral fixation.” My eyes rolled.

  “You and your heels addiction,” he mocked while running a hand up my calf.

  “I guess we both have our vices. At least mine won’t kill me.”

  “Need I remind you about the stairs incident?” he asked with a smirk.

  He had me there. Yet I felt nothing short of victorious because I’d managed to distract him from feeling sick. What he said just before we got sidetracked made me feel kind of ill, though.

  “You know you could never be background noise, right?” I said softly. “I know there were people in that subway who probably made sure they took that same route just to hear you. I saw the people around me humming along, nodding their heads to your beat. People don’t do that to shit music.” I grabbed his hands. “I just want to go out there and sing our music. I want to show them what we made.”

  “I want that, too.”

  I leaned closer, pulled the cigarette from his lips, and touched our foreheads together. “We’re going to be amazing.”

  Rhett nodded against me. “I know we will.” I dropped his cigarette behind me and placed my hands on either side of his scruffy face. “You can do this.”

  When he nodded this time, he actually looked as if he believed it. "I know I can."

  I slowly brought my lips to his,
moving my mouth a few times before he ultimately reciprocated. His hands grabbed my sides and pulled me to a straddling position on top of him. His tongue swiped across my lower lip, teasing me before finally dancing with my tongue. It was slow and exquisite.

  His body perked up, and he pulled me even closer against him. I felt a moan rock through my chest as we gripped each other tightly. I had been trying to help him find his confidence for the stage, but here he was distracting me with his delicious mouth.

  “Damn it,” I heard Lola call out. “Now I have to fix your lipstick!”

  Rhett and I looked up from our spot on the floor to see Rose and Lola standing in the room near Alex.

  Rhett smiled as he said, “What’s the saying, find a guy who messes up your lipstick not your mascara?"

  I stifled a chuckle.

  "Look,” Lola started. “I love that you're rocking my girl's world. But seriously, you have two minutes to be on stage and you have lipstick on your face. Common sense, guys! Use it," she huffed.

  Rose took a small step forward; worry lines creased her forehead. “Actually… you have less than two minutes now.”

  Rhett gripped me tightly, one hand snaked into my hair and the other holding my back. His eyes held mine, and I felt a hundred emotions with just that one look.

  A smile spread across my face. “Let’s go do what we do best.”

  "I don't think that's appropriate for live television, Pipes." He grinned devilishly, and I knew then he was going to be okay.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  The four of us bounded down the hall practically floating on pure adrenaline and stumbled inside my dressing room. At first, we just stood there soaking in the moment. Then the dam broke, and we shouted and cheered while the guys slapped each other’s backs.

  “That was fucking magic!” Nixon hollered, his deep voice bouncing off the white walls.

  “That was… that was…” Jared clutched his drumsticks behind his head.

  “Fucking magic,” Nixon finished for him.

  Rhett pulled the guitar strap over his head. “That was incredible. Nix, you made us come alive, man, and Jared, when you hit those triplets, I thought I was listening to John Bonham for a second.”

  I smiled at Rhett's praise. I’d also gotten a Led Zeppelin vibe when I heard Jared hitting those insane beats.

  “Did you see everyone’s reaction after the first twenty seconds? They were not fucking ready!” Nixon enthusiastically punched his fist into his hand.

  “We’ve been on this show before,” Jared stated. “They thought they were getting the same stuff from us. We’ve got original work now.”

  "Dude, we never had the guts to go with our own music before you." Nixon held out his hand to Rhett, who grabbed it and pulled him in for a backslapping hug.

  Jared stepped forward and thanked Rhett as well before they shared their own version of a bro-hug. Then Rhett turned toward me, and the same electricity I had felt onstage just a few minutes ago quickly returned.

  “Pipes, I almost lost my count on the second verse, but you nailed it so hard I don’t think it was noticeable. And then the way you smashed that last chorus… shit…”

  I couldn't help but watch his lips move as he spoke to me—those perfectly plump lips that had just accompanied me on our first live performance together.

  Rhett's hand moved into my hair, and I suddenly realized how close we were now standing. Nixon appeared in my periphery, and I remembered we weren't alone. Quickly, I stepped back, giving Rhett a scolding look. We were supposed to keep this between the two of us.

  “What?” he whispered, looking confused.

  “You know what,” I reprimanded. I turned my back and walked toward my dressing table.

  “If you’re trying to hide whatever is going on between you two, you might as well not bother.” Nixon laughed.

  “Seriously,” Jared teased. “You can’t be looking at him like that and expect us not to know.”

  “I don’t look at him like anything.”

  "Wrong,” Rhett said. “You look at me like you want nothing more than for me to bang you against the wall." Rhett's lips lifted, and I was back to wanting to kill him and fuck him all in the same breath. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed as if he were just waiting for me to do exactly what he said.

  “The same way you looked at him during the entire performance.” Nixon rolled his eyes.

  Jared shrugged. “Pretty much.”

  “I did not!” I argued.

  Rhett mumbled, but I definitely made out him saying, “Did so.” I glared daggers at him, and he winked.

  “Besides, we’ve been hanging out with Gage,” Nixon said. “Who’s been spending a lot of time with Lola, who, by the way, just loves the two of you together!” He said the last part ultra high-pitched with a little skip in his step. Bastard.

  “And word on the street is that a certain security guy walked in on two Ever James band members going at it in bed,” Jared chimed in. “I know it wasn’t me.”

  “Sure as hell wasn’t me,” Nixon proclaimed. “That leaves the last two members…”

  My mouth hung open so wide it was in danger of getting stuck. All of my friends were gossips.

  "Don't give us that look," Jared said. "We're a family. Yeah, we talk. I remember you telling everyone that Nixon had to get my name tattooed on his ass when it was supposed to be kept between us. And let’s not forget when you ratted me out for sleeping with a certain senator's daughter." He cocked an eyebrow, daring me to contradict him. I couldn't.

  Rhett smiled at Nixon. “You have a dude’s name tattooed on your ass?”

  “Appreciate that,” Nixon drawled while glaring at Jared. “Seriously, I do.” He had his hand on the doorknob when he said, “Now as much as I love talking about my cousin giving ‘fuck me’ eyes to my new friend, I’m going to have to exit this conversation.”

  “Wait…” I called. “You’re… okay… with this?” I asked nervously.

  He looked at Rhett and me briefly then sighed. "I'm not an idiot. I know how feelings work. There's no point in saying you two should end this now when we can all tell you have some crazy chemistry. But I won’t lie and say I'm not worried about the band, because I am."

  “But… we also trust you, Ever,” Jared added. Nixon nodded his head in apparent agreement. “Let’s just keep making music, get this album recorded, and go on tour. I’m itching to get on the road.”

  "Ahh… the groupies." Nixon and Jared smirked at each other then tapped their knuckles together. "No offense, Ever, but Rhett, you should really consider being single on the road."

  Jared laughed but tried to disguise it as a cough. Rhett looked down as if he were actually bashful. “Don’t worry, I’ll get laid plenty on the road.” When he lifted his head, his eyes were solely on me, and they were burning my clothes to the floor.

  “I’m out!” Nixon quickly darted out the door.

  “Yeah, that’s my cue too,” Jared added.

  The door clicked behind them, and Rhett continued to swallow me whole with his eyes. His eyebrow quirked up, and he quietly said, "You know… if you keep acting like being with me is the worst thing ever, I might develop a complex."

  My feet carried me a few steps closer to him. "We wouldn't want that, would we?" I smiled at him, but he didn't return it. A few more feet. "You're upset with me?"

  His arms stayed folded against his chest, and I couldn't stop myself from running my fingers through his sandy brown hair.

  “Rhett…” I started. “I said yesterday I wanted to keep this between the two of us.”

  “You said out of the media.” He uncrossed his arms and grabbed my waist.

  “Keeping something out of the media means that it needs to stay between the two of us. You heard just now, even my crew gossips like a bunch of teenage girls. Nothing is a secret if anyone knows aside from us.”

  “Well then, let’s just call it off now. Becau
se I'll be honest with you, Ever, there is no way in hell you can get me to stop looking at you like I want you underneath me. When we step off the stage and your voice is even raspier than normal, I can’t control my desire to pull you into my arms. What about when we're all just sitting around hanging out with our friends? I'm supposed to sit across the room like I don't want to pull you onto my lap? I can't do that. So let's just—"

  My lips were on his before he could say another word. He was right. And he wasn’t the only one. I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from looking at him like he was my last meal. Everyone would speculate regardless, so we might as well enjoy each other in the meantime.

  “I still want privacy,” I said against his lips.

  “You said your privacy went out the window ages ago,” he whispered back. My lips traced his as my back hit the wall. I hadn’t even felt him flip us around.

  “The media will create stories…”

  “I hear they tend to do that.” His fingers popped open the button of my jeans. I swiftly returned the favor.

  My hands moved to his chest as I kissed the soft skin on his neck. “They’re going to say awful things about me.”

  "I won’t believe them." He groaned while grabbing my ass and tugging me against him.

  “Some of it will be true…” I stopped kissing him and pulled back to see his reaction.

  “Things that happened in the past… or current things?” he asked warily.

  “Past. Definitely the past.”

  “I can deal with that.” He looked relieved. “One day at a time. One thing at a time. I can deal with it.”

  Dear God, I hoped he understood what he was saying. Would he be able to comprehend how badly the media twisted stories and created a tangled web of truth and lies? Knowing how to handle that information and figuring out which was which were the toughest parts, and not everyone could deal.

  I slid down to the floor, my hands grazing down his body as I went. My knees hit the cold tile, and I knew the moment Rhett grasped my intention because his eyes turned molten. I lowered his zipper as he rasped out my name. His jeans easily slid down over his hips as he fell toward the wall, bracing himself with his hands.