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

by Gabrielle Sands

Zoey wrapped her arms around herself. “The day of her birthday, Oliver told her that it was over between them. He said that if she’d listened and stayed away from you, things may have worked out differently. He seemed very upset about her calling that ambulance for you, something I still don’t fully understand.”

  “He didn’t want me to be taken out from under his supervision,” I explained. “We had private doctors on his payroll that travelled with us. Whenever something happened to me, he got them to help, because he knew they’d keep it quiet.” When she looked confused, I added, “It’s a long story. Let’s get back to Ivy.”

  “All right. About two weeks after we got to LA, she called me between classes, ecstatic. Oliver had messaged her, just a simple text, but it was enough to give her hope. She was so happy he’d reached out, and immediately, she started making plans to see him in New York. I supported her, even though I always thought there was a high likelihood that he was toying with her. What could a thirty-year-old rock star possibly want with an eighteen-year-old who lived across the country from him? It didn’t make any sense to me. But when I tried to voice that suspicion, Ivy got very angry. She said I could never understand, because I’d never been that in love with anyone. I thought maybe she was right. Maybe I just didn’t get it. So I stopped trying to interfere, even as I hoped she’d meet someone here at UCLA and move on.”

  She paused, casting her eyes to the ground. “Needless to say, that didn’t happen. Even after it became obvious that Oliver wouldn’t invite her to New York or come visit her here. She’d begged him to, but he always had an excuse. Still, he wouldn’t cut off contact. Every time I thought she was drifting away from him, a text would arrive. She’d read it to me, and she would be so thrilled about how romantic he sounded, but to me, it always seemed like this flowery drivel that no one in their right mind would believe. This went on for two years.

  At one point, she started fooling around with this guy who goes to school with us, but she made it clear to me, and probably him too, that whatever there was between them was casual. Oliver still had some kind of hold on her heart, and I was tired of talking to her about him. It was so frustrating to keep trying to explain to her why their pseudo-relationship was fucked up, and why she needed to block him. The entire time, they didn’t see each other in person, but he still had a grip on her. Isn’t that insane? Honestly, I don’t know how he managed to do it. He must’ve laid the foundation for it all in the beginning.”

  I bit on my bottom lip as I processed this new information. Yeah, I could believe it. Ivy told me she’d wanted to change herself by coming on that tour, so she must not have felt comfortable in her own skin. Oliver was a master at picking up on things like that. He’d identify what someone wanted and then present himself as the solution to their problems. After all, that’s how he got me.

  “He made her feel special,” I muttered. “Maybe it was the first time she ever felt that way.”

  “Yeah,” Zoey agreed. “I think you’re right. And I think she was afraid to learn any new information that would color her experience with him in a different light. It’s why she got so upset when you met her and told her you didn’t lie about Oliver.” She cast me a look. “I wasn’t willing to dismiss your words the way she was determined to. I had my own suspicions about Oliver, and I wanted her to consider the possibility that you were telling her the truth. I thought it would make it easier for her to let go.”

  “Were you successful?”

  “Initially, no. But then a few days later, she came home determined to get over Oliver once and for all. She said one of her professors said something that really resonated. It was about how love could be an unhealthy addiction, and I guess she finally understood that’s what she had with Oliver. So she came up with a plan. She was going to lose her virginity and then block his number.”

  My entire body went rigid, but Zoey didn’t notice. “She went to that club with Mimi to find a guy to hook up with—so goddamn stupid. I bitched her out when she got home from your place that morning.”

  I pulled at the neck of my shirt as a terrible suspicion started to build.

  “You helping her the way you did made her start to see you in a new light. And then you had that lunch, and even though she wouldn’t admit it, I could tell she was starting to like you. So when she decided to lose it to you—”

  “I didn’t know,” I croaked out.

  Zoey looked confused. “What do you mean?” Her eyes widened. “Wait, what? You didn’t know she was a virgin that first time? How is that possible?”

  “She never said anything,” I said, standing up from the sofa and pacing across the room. “What the fuck.”

  “I know she didn’t want to tell you ahead of time, but I thought— Wasn’t there blood or something? Couldn’t you tell?”

  “No!” I exclaimed. “There was nothing. I had no idea.” I covered my face in my palms and groaned.

  I recalled us lying under the open sky in my backyard. Ivy did seem off for a few seconds, but I’d brushed it off as nerves. I was nervous, too. Why didn’t she tell me? Was I too rough, too fast? Would I have done it if I’d known?

  The answer was immediate. Of course I fucking would’ve. But I would have talked to her more, been more careful—

  “Hey, there’s nothing to beat yourself up about,” Zoey said. “So what if she didn’t want you to know? Clearly, everything went fine, because she wanted to see you again after that night.”

  I dropped my hands and looked at Ivy’s friend. “She doesn’t trust me, is that it? I thought we were doing well, but she still doesn’t trust me.”

  “I don’t think that’s it at all,” Zoey insisted, leading me to sit back down on the sofa. “Look, just talk to her. I’ve done enough talking on her behalf. I think you both need to lay all your cards on the table. She likes you a lot, Jamie. I know she does.”

  My skin prickled with goosebumps at Zoey’s admission. Of course, she could have been wrong about Ivy’s feelings, but my stupid heart refused to calm down.

  “It’s past twelve,” she said, standing up. “I’m going to go to bed, but I’m assuming you want to stay here until she wakes up.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Good luck, Jamie.” Zoey gave me a soft smile. “I hope it works out between you two.”

  20

  IVY

  My bare feet scraped on hard gravel as I ran from my pursuer. The path ahead was cloaked in thick darkness, the kind that swallowed all light. I’d lost the flashlight. I’d tossed it over my shoulder when I realized it wouldn’t help, hoping it would hit the thing stomping a few feet behind me. Instead, the flashlight clanked pitifully on the gravel, and a sense of hopelessness crawled up my chest.

  I couldn’t see where I was going, but I’d keep running through the darkness until my limbs gave out or my lungs sputtered out their last breath. Whatever was chasing me had to be worse than death.

  Wait. What was worse than death?

  The certainty I’d felt moments ago wavered. What was I running from? Where was I?

  Pain shot through my foot, and I yelped, tripping and falling on the sharp surface. Within seconds, my pursuer was there. I fought but couldn’t win against the two firm hands on my shoulders determined to turn me over. The hands pushed me down onto my back and held me there until at last, I gathered the courage to open my eyes.

  I was looking at myself.

  I blinked and woke up. I was lying on my bed in the apartment Zoey and I shared, sweating under the thick comforter. Outside my window, the moon glowed. It was the time of night when everything got very still.

  Taking deep breaths, I tried to clear the fog that dulled my mind. As thoughts and memories pieced themselves back together, I sat up on the bed and dropped my head into my palms, a sense of existential unease settling deep within my bones. Angry tears prickled in the corners of my eyes.

  I had been so very wrong. How had I allowed myself to be fooled and deceived so thoroughly? I’d never known the re
al Oliver. I’d allowed myself to live in a fantasy world while ignoring the reality around me. If I’d been so fatally mistaken about Oliver, what else had I been wrong about?

  Jamie.

  I squeezed my wet eyes shut, sucking in a breath that sounded like the last bit of bathwater being dragged down the drain. Jamie hadn’t lied to me. No, he hadn’t lied at all. Even when he was messed up, he’d still managed to do the very thing Oliver never could. He’d told me the truth.

  There was no comparison between the two men. Oliver had manipulated me and kept me caged inside my own head. Jamie had set me free.

  The shame was visceral. It felt as if an axe had slammed into my chest, determined to cleave my heart, to cleave my soul, into two ugly halves. I wept into the comforter, trying to muffle the sounds so that I wouldn’t wake Zoey.

  The memory of going to Mimi’s when I got back from Jamie’s hit me like an aftershock, and I raised my head to look around my room in confusion. I couldn’t remember what happened after I took the Ambien. How did I end up back in my bed?

  I reached for the Kleenex box on the ground beside my bed and blew my nose into a tissue before using another one to wipe my eyes. Something moved outside in the living room. There was a rustling sound that put me on alert. I still felt disoriented and foggy, and when the door to my room suddenly swung open, I yelped in surprise.

  “It’s me,” a velvet voice carved through the darkness.

  “Jamie,” I whispered. “What are you doing here?”

  He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. Shadows cloaked his features, emphasizing the angle of his jaw and cheeks, and giving him an otherworldly look. Then he moved into the moonlight, and I saw that his expression was somber.

  He was going to leave me. I was sure of it. Why wouldn’t he? Not only had I falsely labeled him a liar, but I’d also defended Oliver to him. The guy who’d damaged Jamie and Fox’s relationship nearly beyond repair. The guy who’s never had Jamie’s best interests at heart. Who’d stolen from him and taken credit for things he shouldn’t have.

  Maybe Jamie believed Oliver when he said he’d made plans with me for the night.

  I began to weep into my palms. The bed moved as Jamie sat down on the edge and pulled my hands away from my face. He caressed my cheeks and squeezed my shoulders through the comforter. He dragged his palms over the lump that was my body as if trying to make sure I was in one piece. His gentle touch calmed my sobs a little.

  “We looked for you,” he said when he was finished with his examination. “Zoey and I.”

  I sniffed. “You found me at Mimi’s?”

  “Yes. We brought you back here. We were very worried, Ivy. We didn’t know if you were okay.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I just…” My throat closed up as I tried to hold back a new slew of tears, but it was futile. A sob racked through my chest, then another, and I was weeping again, my tears dripping down my face.

  Jamie moved closer, leaning over, and wrapping his arms around me over the comforter. “Shhh, Ivy, it’s okay,” he whispered just above my ear, his lips pressing to my temple.

  I didn’t deserve to be comforted by him. Jamie had shown me the kind of man he was over and over again, and I’d still refused to believe him even after we were together. I’d been so stupid.

  “Oliver was lying,” I said through my tears. “We weren’t going to meet. He texted me about it, but I never answered. But earlier, I wondered if I should warn him that you were planning something. I’m such a fucking idiot,” I blubbered. “Leave me, Jamie. Just leave me.”

  “I’m not leaving, and you’re not an idiot,” he insisted, sitting back up so that he could look me in the eyes. “He manipulated you, Ivy. He’s always been so good at that.” He let out a harsh laugh. “It’s his superpower. At seventeen, you didn’t stand a chance against him.”

  I kicked off the comforter and sat up. “There were red flags right from the beginning, but I ignored them all. I rationalized his actions, I went along with all of his whims, and I took every single one of his words at face value. What’s wrong with me? How could I have been so gullible?”

  “However gullible you think you were, I was worse.” He dropped his hand and looked down at his lap.

  Scooting up against the headboard, I waited for Jamie to continue. He sat with his back slightly slumped, as if he’d been carrying something heavy on his shoulders for too long.

  “I could never judge you for falling under his spell, because I was there.” He tilted his head to look at me. “I was fucking there, Ivy, and it took me nearly ten years to break out.” The pain in his voice was palpable.

  “How did it happen?” I asked quietly.

  “Oliver met me when I was nineteen,” Jamie began, steepling his hands in front of him. “I was playing at an open-mic night in a college bar. Back then, I had brutal social anxiety. It wasn’t just performing that scared me, it was everything. Talking to people I didn’t know, interviewing for jobs, asking questions in class... But I’ve also loved music. I started writing songs back in middle school and never stopped. I wanted to be a musician, but that dream seemed impossible given how much I struggled with having people pay attention to me.” He paused, scratching at his jaw. “That night, I’d broken up with my first serious girlfriend, and I was miserable. We broke up partially because she was tired of me never wanting to go to parties with her or on double dates with her friends. I remember feeling so sick of my own shit, so powerless. I decided I’d get some liquid courage and forced myself to show up to the open-mic night. I guess, I was trying to prove to myself that I could beat my demons.”

  That hit close to home. Young Jamie didn’t sound so different from me.

  “I had a few shots and then a few more. I was wasted, but in that state, I felt like I could actually get up on stage. So I did. The crowd swam before my eyes, but I played the two songs I’d written, and I played them well. The audience gave me a standing ovation, and when I stumbled down toward the bar, this light-haired guy approached me.

  “He was charming and friendly and complimented me on my performance, which was exactly what I needed to hear. He said he was a guitar player and was looking to start a band. My memory of that night isn’t very complete, for obvious reasons, but I woke up the next day with a sense of optimism I hadn’t felt before.

  “We met up the next day to jam together, and I saw that Oliver was a good guitarist. With more practice, I thought he could be great. He showered me with compliments and told me I had great stage presence. Somehow, he’d pinpointed my biggest insecurity, and he made me think that I was better than I thought I was. It felt amazing to hear that. I thought maybe my issues weren’t as bad as I thought they were. Before we split up that day, he told me his dad was an executive at a small record label, and that we’d have an easy time getting signed with him if we made a good demo. He told me I’d won the lottery by meeting him.”

  I wrapped my arms around my knees and thought back to how I’d felt when I first met Oliver. Like everything was about to change.

  “When we made the demo and got the record deal, I thought he was right. I had won the lottery. At that point, he was my fairy godfather, and I would have trusted him with my life. He gave me a contract to sign, and I did. Told me to drop out of school, and I did that, too. We got to work on our debut album, with me writing most of the songs. He was busy with the business side of things. Sure, we worked together on the songs here and there, but I was perfectly fine letting him deal with all that other stuff while I focused on the music.

  “On the eve of our first live interview, things ground to a halt. I’d gotten comfortable with Oliver, and in the six months leading up to the release, I rarely saw anyone other than him. When we started having to market ourselves, my social anxiety came back with a vengeance. I told him I couldn’t do the interview, and he was understanding. He said he’d do the talking and even discuss the songwriting process, but he’d have to play down the fact that I wrote all of
the songs, otherwise the interviewer would want me to chime in. I agreed. I didn’t care about the fame or recognition as long as I could do what I loved.

  “This was a calculated move on Oliver’s part. You see, our contract said the principal songwriter would get the majority of the royalties. I think Oliver lied to his father about who wrote the songs right from the beginning, or at the very least, he oversold his contribution.”

  “Because he wanted to live up to his father’s expectations?” I asked, recalling the exchange I overheard in Jamie’s kitchen.

  “Yeah. When I took them to court over the royalty payments, his father denied ever knowing the truth, but I think he was lying. I think he knew. He just didn’t want to acknowledge what he’d driven his son to.”

  I could understand the pressure of parental expectations, but that didn’t come close to excusing Oliver’s actions. “You told me you signed that contract because you trusted Oliver.”

  “I did. I was barely twenty, and I’d never seen a contract before in my life. The thought of hiring my own lawyer to review it didn’t even cross my mind. I trusted Oliver completely.”

  I chewed on my nail. If Zoey told me to sign something, I would without question. I could see why Jamie would do the same. “When did you figure out what he was doing?”

  “I didn’t for a long time. From my point of view, things were going well. I had a salary that seemed ridiculously generous, especially given that I’d grown up poor and lived on instant noodles my first two years of college. Oliver and I worked well together, and in what seemed like no time, we were gearing up for our first tour. Naturally, I freaked out about it, but Oliver was nothing but supportive. He hired vocal and stage coaches for me, saying they’d get me ready to perform in front of large crowds in no time. After a few months of training, it started to pay off. We went on tour, and I managed to do it, even if I didn’t knock it out of the ballpark. I thought with more coaching, I’d continue to improve, so I kept working hard at it. By our fourth tour, I started to feel comfortable in my own skin and was ready to play a more active role publicly as well. When I voiced that desire to Oliver, he finally understood his mistake.