“Yeah…well,” he pauses, slowly letting out a breath, “I don’t know how else to cope. I have to be numb to be able to exist. If I wasn’t numb…”
His words break off while he thinks about something, his head facing down as he stares at the people below us.
“If you weren’t numb, you’d have to live with the pain, and that’s not something you’re equipped to handle. Not now, anyway.”
His head snaps in my direction. I’m glad I too have on a pair of large sunglasses. He has a way of making me feel like he can read my every thought—without me having to say a word—and right now, I don’t want him to know what’s crossing my mind. I want to hide behind the glasses, cower away from his inquisitive gaze.
“What do you know about being numb, Nora?”
I don’t answer him. Not because I don’t trust him, I don’t want him to know how truly numb I feel deep down. The numbness I’ve had to battle for years. It’s still something I struggle with.
Shaking my head, I lift my straw to my lips, buying myself some time. Apparently, that’s not good enough for Nash, because without warning, he sets his hand on my thigh.
He’s touched me many times. His hands have skirted around almost every inch of my body, but right now, it’s different. In this moment, it’s not for show. It’s real, and it’s causing my pulse to pick up.
His fingers tighten around my thigh, a supportive touch I’ll never forget. “Nora?”
I swallow, turning my head to face him. “You’re not the only one with demons, Nash. Yours just look different than mine.”
He barely lets me finish my sentence before throwing his next words out between us. “Go out with me.”
My chest pulls in with a deep breath when I register what exactly he’s saying.
“Excuse me, what? I just told you I’m also equally fucked up, and you ask me out?” I stumble on my words, almost dropping my coffee in the process.
He cocks an eyebrow. “So, is that a no?”
“Yes.”
Nash leans in closer to me. “Yes as in yes you will, or yes as in hell yes you will?”
“Yes as in no. No, I won’t.” Monica is probably screaming from somewhere in the distance, upset with me for not taking this opportunity. But I can’t do it.
The way Nash is grinning at me, it makes him seem so different from the man in the magazines. It makes him seem real—human. It felt easy when he seemed like this rude, famous, unattainable guy. Now that he’s next to me, slowly letting his guard down, I can’t bring myself to hurt him.
Even though I want to say yes.
“You’re telling me no?” he asks, confused, sitting straighter in the seat as he tilts toward me. “Can you at least tell me why?”
“Because you’re…” my free hand waves around in front of him, “you. You’re Nash Pierce. You go on dates with models and actresses.”
“I can go out with whoever I please,” he throws back, a bit of a bite to his tone.
“Nash, you don’t know me,” I point out, ready to beg him not to start down this road.
“I’m trying to know you.” His voice is softer then, and chipping away at my resolve.
The voice in my head telling me this is the worst idea, that this will set us down a path I can’t come back from, is getting quieter by the second.
“It’s a bad idea,” I state, my thighs sticking to the plastic stadium seat as I adjust my position. I look down at the people we work with. I still don’t know if anyone else on tour was propositioned by Nash’s team just as I was. It feels like it doesn’t matter, because right now it’s looking like I might be the one with the measly shot at breaking his heart. Except now I don’t want it.
I anxiously peek over at him, finding a sly smirk on his face.
“Some of my favorite memories stem from bad ideas,” he says.
Sighing, I adjust my grip on my coffee. “You might hate me when you get to know me.”
“Doubtful.”
“Yeah, well,” I let out a long breath, “don’t say that yet. There’s still a lot you have to learn, Nash Pierce.”
He uses his index finger to slide his sunglasses back up the straight bridge of his nose. “Nash. Just Nash to you.”
“Honestly, it’s hard to look at you and not think of the man that’s on every magazine cover. I think I have that underwear campaign you did forever ago branded in my brain.”
His white teeth bite at the straw of his coffee, his lips smirking around it. “It was that good, huh?”
Using the hand not holding my coffee, I push his shoulder. “Not what I meant.”
“Mhm,” he hums, shrugging my push off. He turns his gaze back to the shuffle of bodies in front of us. “You just admitted you can’t forget me in all my naked glory. Don’t worry, Rose, any time you want to see the real thing, you just let me know.”
Shaking my head, I can’t help but smile. “You’re so freaking arrogant.”
“So? Monica told me that a certain someone is building quite the fanbase for themselves.”
I lift both my legs until my feet rest on the seats in front of me, my stomach dropping at the mention of Monica’s name. “And who would that be?”
Looking over at him, I find him looking at me from over the top of his sunglasses. “You. Obviously.”
I shrug, not knowing what else to do. I haven’t had notifications on to my socials for a long time. Once my freestyles started gaining more momentum, I had to turn them off or my phone would never stop alerting me to things. I still check my socials regularly, and it wasn’t hard to miss how much my numbers had climbed since opening night. It turns out people really do love the dance Nash and I do—it’s gained me half a million followers in a few short weeks. I still can’t entirely wrap my mind around it.
“They love you,” Nash continues, the ice in his cup rattling as he adjusts his body into the same position as mine. His legs are much longer than mine, and in this new position they encroach on my space. Our knees brush against the other’s, my bare knee against his.
I ponder his words, hearing the eruption of cheers from the fans in my head. “They love us,” I correct. “The act we’re putting on.”
He’s quiet for a moment, taking the time to put his coffee down on the concrete next to him. “The line isn’t always black and white for them with what’s an act and what’s not. Soon you’ll find out just how often those lines blur.”
I can feel a crease develop on my forehead as I think his words through. “How do you handle that?”
He laughs, a deep, throaty laugh that sends chills down my spine. “I don’t fucking handle it, Nora. I’m a god damn mess. People just choose to ignore it. They think it’s an act.”
“Is it? An act?”
He steeples his index fingers, resting his chin between his index fingers and his thumbs. “Unfortunately, I think the fact that I’m a train wreck is the only real thing about me.”
His words tumble around in my head, making me sad. He clearly isn’t in a good place. “Why do you think people ignore it?”
I should stop asking him personal questions. It’s really none of my business. I shouldn’t get to know his demons, because the more demons of his I unearth, the more I want to get to know them. The more I get to know him, the more I hate myself for the inevitable of what’ll happen between us.
He gives another dry, sarcastic laugh. “Why wouldn’t they? I’m Nash Pierce. The bad boy. I’m everything they’ve made me out to be. A playboy. An alcoholic. A hot head. Why would anyone give a fuck that these are all problems, huge red flags, when it’s feeding into the very image they have of me?”
“You’re also talented. An artist. A singer. A lyrical genius.”
He cuts me off by putting his hand on my thigh once again, his fingertips burning hot against my bare skin. “I don’t need you to try and justify who I’ve become, Nora. What I do need you to do is be ready tomorrow for our date.”
His fingertips dig deeper into my thigh f
or a few split seconds before he pulls his hand away. I watch him carefully as he bends down to grab the coffee he’d placed on the ground. The seat makes a loud snapping noise as he stands up.
I watch him twist his body as he stretches out his torso. He lets out a loud groan, fixing the hat on his head right after.
“What if I don’t want to go?” I ask sarcastically.
“Then you don’t go. I’ll be waiting outside the dancer bus tomorrow at one. If you don’t come, I’ll take it as a no.” He reaches out in front of me, his outstretched fingers wiggling.
I take the hint, putting the hand that isn’t holding my coffee in his. His grip is firm as he pulls me out of my own stadium seat, which now reverberates behind me.
“Let’s go blow their minds again, Rose.”
He doesn’t let go of my hand as he walks the two of us down the stadium stairs. His grip is firm the whole way down, no matter how many stares land on us.
And I begin to wonder…is this the start of the fall?
As it turns out, there’s a fuck ton of people wandering around the stadium parking lot in the afternoon, a detail I wasn’t privy to because typically I’m still sleeping off a hangover at this time. Or begrudgingly doing some kind of press work.
Shockingly, I don’t have anything planned for the day—except for this date with Nora. We traveled through the night before arriving at our next tour stop. Today is an off day for the tour. The crew has begun to set up the stage for tomorrow, but for those of us performing, we have the day off.
A few crew members try to catch my attention as I weave through all the buses parked in the lot. I give them small waves, too focused on trying to find the bus for the dancers. Adjusting the beanie on my head, I stop a tiny girl pacing in front of a random golf cart. She’s got a clipboard clutched to her chest like her life depends on it, while she whisper-shouts to someone on the other line of her phone.
“Excuse me?” I begin, taking a step closer to her. My words catch her attention, and she looks up at me, her eyes getting as wide as saucers when she realizes who’s bothering her. “Do you know where I could find the dancer bus?” I give her an apologetic smile.
She’s silent for a few beats, lifting her arm and pointing somewhere in the distance. I follow the line of her arm, trying to distinguish where exactly she’s pointing to. I can feel my eyebrows pull together on my forehead underneath my sunglasses. I have no fucking clue where she’s pointing to other than the mass of buses sitting in the parking lot.
“Could you, uh, maybe give me more details? A number?”
“Forty-two,” she answers robotically, her jaw hanging open while she openly gawks at me. I can hear someone yelling through the earpiece of her phone.
“Thank you,” I tell her quickly, nodding to the phone in her hand. “Might want to get back to that.” I give her a small wave as my legs take me in the direction she pointed to.
I’m dodging members of my crew left and right as I weave in and out of the buses. I never realized how many buses even travel with us on tour but am quickly realizing it’s a lot of them. I’m scanning all the numbers until I finally spot the one I’m looking for.
Keeping my head down, I pick up my pace as I walk to the bus. Luckily, there’s no one else around to spot me. I’m sure the people who’ve already noticed me hanging out around the lot were confused. I must admit, I don’t spend much time wandering around venues on my off days. Typically, I’m nursing a hangover right into the evening, just in time to rinse, repeat, and get drunk all over again.
I stop in front of the narrow door of the bus, my knuckles rapping against the cold steel a few times. As I wait for someone to answer, I swear I see one of the curtains toward the back of the bus open and close quickly.
The door squeaks open to a smiling Ziggy. “Well, look who it is.” He props his shoulder in the doorway, giving me a shit-eating grin.
“Hi, Zig.” My eyes wander to the empty space over his shoulder. I don’t find any sign of Nora, just stairs and an empty passenger chair. “I’m here for Nora.”
Ziggy chuckles, smoothing down the crease of his lime green jersey. “Oh, we know.” He straightens up off the wall, a whole head taller than me thanks to the lift of the bus. “Now, Nora’s daddy isn’t here so I feel like it’s my job to give you a few words. Our girl Nora here is something special, and while your team of dancers all respect the hell out of you, your rapport with women isn’t great. If you hurt our girl, well, you’ll have one pissed off dance crew.”
“Ziggy!” Nora shouts as she rushes up behind him, peeking over him, her face as red as the lipstick she wears each night we perform.
“What? We were all thinking it, I was just the one with the balls to say it.” He completely fills the space of the doorway, blocking her way out.
She stuffs something into the small purse on her shoulder. Once she catches onto the fact that he isn’t moving, she looks up at him expectantly.
Ziggy dramatically sighs, pulling his body to one side enough that her small frame can fit through the gap. “You two have fun.”
Nora stops right in front of me, a hesitant smile on her face. I return her smile, suddenly excited about the day ahead, relieved she isn’t standing me up. Briefly looking over the top of her head, I find Ziggy carefully watching us. His eyes meet mine and I can tell by the look on his face that he meant that warning of his.
Little does he know I have no intention of hurting Nora. I don’t even know what the hell I’m doing here in the first place. I’m not someone who casually goes on a day-date with a woman, even if this is exactly what Monica wants me to be doing.
I wanted a day with Nora, just the two of us. For once, I didn’t want to deal with the pressure of being Nash: the famous popstar. I wanted to leave the pressure of all that behind and focus on getting to know a great girl instead. Hell, I just wanted to pretend I could be a normal guy for a day.
“Ready?” I ask, looking down to find her big eyes staring up at me.
“Yep,” she replies, pulling the strap of her purse higher on her shoulder.
The door to the bus behind us makes a loud creak as Ziggy disappears behind it. It leaves us completely alone in the small alleyway between buses.
“Let’s go,” I tell her, reaching down to wrap her hand in mine. I do it without even thinking about it. Holding her hand seems like second nature at this point. We weave in and out of the buses until we reach the parked SUV, where Sebastian and Matt are both waiting for us.
“Where are we going?” Nora asks softly, giving them a small wave.
“Somewhere Nash shouldn’t be going,” Matt mumbles under his breath, eyes on Sebastian.
Sebastian lets out a small laugh. “Like we could tell Nash what to do,” he says sarcastically. He turns around and opens the back door of the SUV, reaching his hand out to take Nora’s.
She gives him the sweetest smile, pulling her hand out of mine and placing it in his. He winks at me over her shoulder as he goes to help her into the car.
Matt huffs from where he’s perched against the driver’s side door, and Sebastian halts to listen. “Yeah, it’s not like he pays us—very nicely I might add—to make sure he’s safe,” he says.
I take this time to step in front of Sebastian, silently letting him know I’ll get Nora’s door as we’ve found ourselves in some kind of pissing match over this for no real reason. He steps back, allowing me in.
“You’ll find out where we’re going,” I tell her, answering the question she’d asked before my bodyguards decided to go all mom—or worse, Monica—on me.
Nora reaches around herself, giving me a nod as she clicks her seatbelt into place.
I shut the door softly, ignoring Sebastian as he makes overexaggerated kissing noises next to me. This idiot. He knows I’m in new territory with Nora. I don’t typically fuss over taking girls on a date, but today I’ve spent hours trying to figure out the perfect first date for the two of us. Even if Matt thinks it’s unsafe for me t
o do it at all.
“Matt’s right, I pay the both of you very generously,” I remind Sebastian. “So stop annoying me.”
This only amuses Sebastian more. “Retract the claws, Nash.” He meows, putting his hand in the air to mimic a cat paw swiping at the air.
I ignore him, muttering “asshole” under my breath as I round the SUV to the driver’s side.
Matt waits, holding the rear door open for me. He doesn’t make eye contact with me, clearly still not on board with my plans for the day.
I slide onto the dark leather seat, finding Nora watching me inquisitively. My gaze skates over to her, finally taking in her outfit. And fuck, if it doesn’t get my blood pumping south. She’s got on a black-and-white checkered skirt, and it’s riding up while she sits there, showing off a dangerous amount of her thighs. I’ve seen her in less during concerts. Now, she’s wearing a simple black, long sleeve shirt. It hugs the top half of her body and stretches right under her ribcage, leaving a small gap of exposed skin between her shirt and skirt.
Matt’s door slams a little louder than necessary once he settles in the driver’s seat. I’m still too busy staring at Nora to pay attention to whatever conversation the guys are having up front.
She crosses her legs next to me, alerting me to the pair of black chucks on her feet. Damn she looks fucking hot in a pair of chucks. The grungy, angsty, pre-fame middle schooler that is still buried deep inside me fucking digs it. My eyes snap to the stark white pair of chucks on my own feet. We look like a damn ad from the nineties. I’m into it.
“Right, Nash?” Sebastian pipes up from the front seat.
I look up from my feet to find Sebastian looking at me through the rearview mirror. Judging by the look on his face, he knows damn well I wasn’t listening to a word he was saying.
“Hmm?” I ask, reaching across the space between our two bucket seats to grab Nora’s hand. She doesn’t protest as my fingers cover hers, our intertwined hands resting against her thigh.
Founded on Goodbye: A Rockstar Romance Page 12