Pretty Words: An Enemies To Lovers Rock Star Romance (River Valley Rebels)

by Gabrielle Sands

  Pretty Words

  An Enemies-to-Lovers Rock Star Romance

  Gabrielle Sands

  Contents

  Playlist

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  A Note from the Author

  Bibliography

  Also by Gabrielle Sands

  Acknowledgments

  PLAYLIST

  Frank Sinatra - “Witchcraft”

  Tricky - “Hell Is Round The Corner”

  Royal Blood - “Better Strangers”

  Queens of the Stone Age - “Smooth Sailing”

  Himalayas - “If I Tell You”

  MEDUZA - “Born To Love (feat. SHELLS)”

  Dua Lipa - “Love Again”

  Chloe x Halle - “Forgive Me”

  The Weeknd - “King of the Fall”

  Reignwolf - “Are You Satisfied?”

  1

  Someone was playing a grand piano in the arrivals hall of Portland International Airport. The song fighting to be heard over bursts of robotic announcements was Frank Sinatra’s “Witchcraft”.

  I passed by the piano player and did a double take, not expecting to see such a sight at an airport. I’d only been to two airports before—Philadelphia, about an hour from the town I called home, and Miami International, where we’d taken a few summer vacations. As far as I could recall, both were gray and sterile. They certainly didn’t have artisan coffee and live music greeting tired travelers.

  The strangeness of this place felt appropriate. After all, I’d been ready to enter a new world ever since I stepped off the plane. Going on tour for two weeks with my brother’s heavy metal band, Bleeding Moonlight, was bound to be a far cry from my usual sleepy summers in River Valley.

  It’s been almost a year since I last saw Cole, and I was excited to spend these two weeks together. Our eight-year age difference had always made my brother seem a little out of reach, but now that I was nearing eighteen, I hoped our relationship would grow stronger. I stopped by a newsstand and pulled out my phone to text him.

  “I’m here. Don’t see you.”

  When I first floated the idea of going on this tour to my best friend, Zoey, she looked at me like I’d lost it. She said it was the last thing she’d ever imagine me doing. In truth, it was a crazy idea and completely out of character for me. My entire existence so far could be summarized with one word. Dull. I blamed it on living in River Valley, where few interesting things ever happened, but even when they did, I was unlikely to be privy to them. I wasn’t very social or outgoing, and I hated crowds, which kept me away from packed house parties—the pinnacle of every teenager’s social life. This predilection had landed me squarely in the nerdy crowd at school. I didn’t get bullied, but sometimes I wondered if that would be preferable to feeling invisible.

  As I neared my eighteenth birthday, the need to make a change had become a compulsion. I was about to go to college, and I was determined to reinvent myself. It was time to leave the boring small-town girl behind and become someone interesting. This tour was going to be my test run, practice for putting myself out there and learning how to meet people. If I screwed things up, I’d be leaving in two weeks anyway, and at the very least I’d surely collect a few crazy stories to use as icebreakers.

  I moved closer to the door leading outside the terminal and craned my neck, looking for any sign of Cole. Before I could find him, my phone buzzed in my hand.

  It was a message from my friend, Sophie. “Ives, where are you? Already at the venue?”

  I texted her back. “Not yet.” Compared to Zoey, Sophie had been quick to voice her support for my plan. She’d said it was about time I realized I was a “badass who had a lot to offer”. The role of the cheerleader had always come naturally to her.

  “Remember what I said! Play your cards right, and lose that V-card to a yummy rocker hottie. Make us proud, bitch.”

  I rolled my eyes and tried to will away the heat spreading across my cheeks. So far, I’d only gone on a date with one guy. It had ended with a terribly sloppy kiss that I liked to pretend didn’t happen. Sure, I wanted to make the most out of this trip and maybe do something a little crazy, but sleeping with a rock star? I’d need an entirely new personality to have the guts to even try to accomplish that.

  My phone lit up with another message, from Cole this time. “Sorry, stuck at sound check. Our tour manager, Ran, is coming to get you. Look for a short blond guy wearing a band T-shirt.”

  A nervous tingle spread through my chest. The main reason behind my lackluster social life was my awkwardness when it came to meeting new people. The whole connecting-with-strangers thing my brother was so good at? I never inherited the gene. I was always too worried about what people thought of me. Even though one of my goals for the next two weeks was to work on my social skills, I’d been relying on the idea of Cole introducing me to the bands and tour staff. Instead, I was being thrown right into the deep end.

  “Ivy?”

  I lifted my eyes to a stocky man wearing horn-rimmed glasses. His Bleeding Moonlight tee told me he must be Ran. Apparently, Cole considered me short, because Ran and I stood at nearly the same 5’4”.

  “Hi,” I said and extended a hand. “Ran?”

  He scanned me impassively, as if I were a boring exhibit in a museum he was eager to leave. Something in the tight angle of his lips told me he wasn’t thrilled about being here. “That I am.” His palm touched mine for a mere second before falling away. “Let’s get going. I need to be back at the venue as soon as possible. Do you need any help with your bags?”

  I shook my head, instinctively gripping the shoulder straps of my forty-liter backpack. Cole had warned me that space on the tour bus was limited, and that I’d better be ready to live in close quarters with the guys. If they were worried about a teenage girl overpacking, I was ready to prove them wrong.

  The sound of the piano quickly faded away as we weaved through the sparse crowd and followed the signs to the parking lot. Ran glanced over at me when we stopped in front of the elevator. “You don’t look like Cole. I wouldn’t have guessed you were siblings.”

  “Yeah, we’re pretty different.” In our appearance, there were subtle similarities, like how our upper lip curved and the slant of our brows, but most people missed that. Instead, they focused on the obvious things. My black hair hung heavy and straight, long enough to brush against my shoulder blades, while Cole’s would stick up in every direction if he didn’t take the time to tame his curls. It’s been that way for as long as I could remember, even in my earliest memories of us playing together on the beach when he was in his early teens. He’d been a skinny and tall boy, but he’d became a strong and imposing man. I, on the other hand, stayed wiry and thin through my teenage years, still waiting but also gradually giving up on ever filling the B-cup bras I was gifted by an aunt years ago.

  “You play any instrument?”

  I shook my head. “No. I’m not very musical.”

  Being dreadfully normal among a family of exceptional people had surely contributed to m
y insecurities. My mom’s a talented painter, and my dad’s written poetry that’s won him more than a few awards. Then there’s Cole.

  I’ve always thought that despite similar inputs—growing up in the same household with the same parents and going to the same school—the algorithm had spit out two completely different results when it came to Cole and I. My brother was a risk taker, a dreamer who’d decided to forego college to start a band with his best friends and found success despite all odds. Mom and Dad were free-spirited hippies and Cole was their perfect child. Artistic, multi-talented, passionate, and totally on board with doing mushrooms as a family bonding experience.

  I, on the other hand, had no exceptional talents. Musical or otherwise. I was a good student but never at the top of the roster, and I was reliably average in extra curriculars. My goals in life were also entirely ordinary. Have a fun college experience, find a stable job, get married, and live a comfortable middle-class existence.

  My parents had spent years trying to downplay their disappointment in my mainstream tendencies. When I told them I wanted to go on this tour, neither needed much convincing.

  “I think it’s great you want to spend more time with your brother,” my mom had said before calling him to arrange everything. They’d talked on the phone for over an hour, probably brainstorming all the ways Cole could influence me to pursue goals that were a better fit for someone in the Abbott family. Mom didn’t even give me a pep talk about how I should behave before I’d left the house. It went to show how little trouble she thought I could ever get into.

  The elevator made a low beeping sound, and the doors slid open, snapping me out of my thoughts.

  “I assume Cole gave you an overview of the rules?” Ran asked as we stepped inside.

  Cole hadn’t. “Sure,” I lied quickly. In my frantic attempts to get someone new to like me, I wasn’t above lying.

  Ran gave me a skeptical look. “Well, let me give you a refresher.”

  I pulled my shoulders inward and dropped my head to look at the ground. Thing is, I was a terrible liar, so this strategy often backfired.

  “Don’t make noise on the bus,” he began, “someone is always trying to sleep. The guys will be exhausted between shows, so they need to get their rest when we’re driving during the day. Don’t leave your things scattered around, or they’ll disappear. We have two junk bunks—one actually, now that you’re here—and that’s where you can store anything that doesn’t fit in your drawer.”

  As Ran spoke, I began to tune him out. There were a dozen arbitrary-seeming rules when it came to life on the bus, and in my haze of lingering embarrassment and nerves, I struggled to file them away in my memory. I kept nodding as we walked through the parking lot, but when we stopped by a white van—Ran’s car—he fixed me with an irritated look.

  “Above all else, don’t shit on the bus.”

  That made my neck snap straight. “Excuse me?”

  He opened the door and motioned for me to get in. “I’m not being metaphorical. The plumbing sucks. Wait until we stop at the venue for sound check or when we’re getting food.”

  I nodded, heat radiating off my cheeks, and climbed into the front seat.

  The words “Moda Center” glowed a fluorescent white at the top of the massive venue. We drove past the line of waiting attendees snaking around the public parking lot and stopped at a security booth where a guard checked our passes. It was dusk, around seven pm on a warm, late-July night, and the show was about to start. My parents had taken me to a handful of Cole’s concerts back in River Valley, but I’ve never been to a massive venue like this one. Just the thought of how packed it would get inside there tonight made me feel sick. It brought me right back to the terrifying memory of getting lost in a massive crowd at a Christmas Market in Philadelphia at age seven. Ever since then, I’d never felt comfortable packed in with other people.

  Ran handed me a pass that said “ALL ACCESS” with my name below in blocky letters. “Don’t lose it. The replacement fee is $200.”

  I clutched the laminated rectangle and nodded. “Don’t worry, I never lose things.”

  Ran pursed his lips and nodded. He set a quick pace as soon as we got out of the car, making it apparent he had someplace to be. The sense that I wasn’t welcome had begun to marinate inside my gut, and my nerves, which were already stretched tight, vibrated with anxiety. I hoped I’d get to see Cole before they went on stage.

  Ran walked confidently through a maze of gray hallways, and I fought to stay close to him, the heavy backpack digging into my shoulders and back. At last, we stopped outside a door labeled “Green Room”.

  “They’re in there,” Ran said, indicating I should open the door.

  I swallowed, my pulse hammering in my ears. Now that I was about to meet everyone, my insecurities were flaring up like fourth of July fireworks. Did my skin look okay? Could I hold a conversation with my brother’s bandmates? Would they treat me like a kid? I wasn’t legally an adult, but I was desperate to be on equal footing with the people I was going to spend two weeks with. I thought Cole would make that easy by introducing me to everyone and setting the tone, but he wasn’t here, and Ran was already turning to leave.

  I took a deep breath and pulled on the handle of the door.

  The first person I saw was Ezra, Cole’s best friend and the drummer of Bleeding Moonlight. He was facing away from me, mid-conversation with someone sitting down on the sofa, but I immediately recognized his reddish hair even from the back. He looked over his shoulder when the door closed behind me, and his eyes widened. “Holy shit. Ivy!”

  I didn’t manage to get my greeting out before he crossed the distance between us and pulled me into a fierce hug. Growing up, Ezra and my brother had been inseparable, so out of the entire band, I knew him best. I liked the drummer. He’d always been kind and friendly toward me, and his enthusiastic greeting was a welcome change from the lukewarm reception I’d received from Ran.

  I wrapped my arms around him and smiled into his shoulder. “Hey, Ezra. Long time.”

  After a moment, he pulled back and examined me at arm’s length. “I haven’t seen you in what, two years? You’ve grown!”

  “Sounds about right,” I said. “You didn’t stop by the last time Cole visited. Mom was upset you didn’t come.”

  Ezra grinned. “I can’t remember why I didn’t. But I’d do just about anything now to get some of your mom’s chili. Tour food gets old quick. Well, you’ll find out for yourself soon enough,” he said with a chuckle before glancing back at the three men sitting on the sofa. “Guys, this is Cole’s sister. Come meet her.”

  A tall man with a thick beard came up first, wearing a cut off T-shirt and army-green cargo pants.

  I squinted at him. “Silas? I can barely recognize you under that beard.”

  The enormous guitarist let out a booming laugh and extended his hand. “So you remember me, huh? Wasn’t sure you would. You were a little baby when we first started practicing at your place.”

  I used to watch Silas, Ezra, and Cole play when they were starting out as a band. They’d gather after school and practice in our garage while I made weak attempts at studying at a folding table I had dragged outside. Back then, all I’d wanted was to watch my older brother in action.

  “I was twelve, hardly a baby,” I retorted while shaking his hand.

  “To a guy his size, everyone seems smaller than they really are,” a voice sounded from behind the guitarist. Silas stepped away to reveal a long-haired man I recognized as Abel, the lead singer of Bleeding Moonlight.

  Abel tipped his chin at me. “Hey, Ivy.”

  “Hi.” I gave him a timid smile. My nervousness returned, and my hands grew clammy just in time for me to shake Abel’s hand. If he noticed, he made no mention of it. When Abel joined the band a few weeks after the rest got started, they switched out of our garage for an abandoned warehouse outside of town where they could blast their amps at full volume. I didn’t see them much after that,
so I never got a chance to exchange more than a few words with the singer.

  The last person to greet me was Charlie, the second guitarist. He smirked and flicked his gaze over me. Charlie had joined Bleeding Moonlight after their first album was already out, and despite him visiting River Valley with Cole a number of times, our paths hadn’t crossed. Cole had mentioned in passing that Charlie could be a handful, and that he’d gotten the band in trouble during some interviews for being rude to the reporters. As the guitarist scrutinized me from under his lashes, I held back the urge to squirm.

  “I’m Charlie,” he said in a voice that resembled a drawl. “And you’re Cole’s little sister, huh?” His hands were in his pockets, and he stood with a strange posture, as if he were leaning slightly back. Tattoos covered the entirety of his arms and even snaked up his neck.

  I cleared my dry throat. “I’m Ivy.”

  The smirk on his face grew. “Cole said you’re nothing like his degenerate self. He said you’re a very nice girl, who does well at school and doesn’t let loose much. Was he lying to us?”

  Shaking my head, I inwardly screamed at Cole’s drab description of me. This was supposed to be a fresh start. “Um. No. That’s true, I guess.”

  “I wonder what made you want to come here then?”

  “Well, I guess I just want to experience something new,” I mumbled and dropped my gaze to the ground.