by Gabrielle G
“Okay, Dan, calm the fuck down. Seriously, man. She wanted to see you and she’s coming for you. I need to go see someone, but, be cool.”
Lars’s concern is real, and I know why he’s worried. But I promised him I would never go back through the darkness again. I stopped doing drugs years ago, and I don’t drink, or barely.
“Do you want me to stay?” he asks while I strum my guitar.
“Seriously, go see your lady and let me be. I’ll be fine. I’m not a total lost cause.”
I guess I’m persuasive because he gets ready to leave. But when he’s about to go through the door, there’s a knock on it. He opens it and finds himself face to face with Anna.
“Isn’t this the most renowned architect in the city?” I know he means worse but won’t say so. He’s kind of a gentlemen this way.
“Oh, hi,” she says, sounding a little disappointed. “Is Dan here?”
“I guess he is…” Lars opens the door so she can see me. He looks at me one last time, and I nod to indicate I’ll be fine.
Anna comes in, less fighty than I imagined. “Hi!”
“Hey,” I answer, undetached. “What’s up?”
I’m not making eye contact. I thought I’d made it clear what I wanted, and I believed her giving me her address was a clear indication we were trying to be together. Does she really think I would change the band’s whole schedule for just a fuck?
“Look…” She comes closer. “I might have been an asshole this morning and a jerk tonight, and I’m sorry. The thing is, before you arrived, I was happy you were coming back. I even tidied for you.” She laughs as if tidying is something she only does when she has someone important coming over.
I’m confused but let her go on.
“It seemed so right to have you in my apartment that I freaked out and kind of kicked you out without wanting to.”
That’s not what I was expecting at all. I thought she was going to tell me I was going too fast, she didn’t want me the way I wanted her, that we weren’t meant to be. But all I hear is her saying I fit too well in her space. It seemed too natural. I’m good with that. She could have told me this morning, but I understand her freaking out. I’m leaving soon for the Europe tour, so I can’t really ask her to commit without thinking it through.
“Okay,” I say, putting down my guitar. “I understand. Have you eaten yet? Want to order in?”
“Seriously, that’s it?” She looks so surprised, as though she was ready to fight and convince me to give her another chance.
I nod, searching her eyes. “What do you want?”
“I really want to see you in my apartment. Please come home with me?”
“I could take you to Paris or Tokyo, but okay, your apartment it is.”
I take her hand and follow her, knowing she could guide me wherever she wants.
I trust only a few people. Privacy is necessary. Everywhere I go, there’s always a phone taking my picture, which is why I wear a baseball cap most of the time. As I jumped out of a limo yesterday and walked the streets of Montreal in plain sight, the news that I’m staying in the city has spread. Social media is all over it, questioning why I'm here when I should be in LA. Because that’s the other thing—nowadays, everybody knows my whereabouts.
Anna is still asleep, lying on her side next to me, her hair spread on her white pillow, her light skin bathed by the sunlight coming through the window, her sheets just covering her breasts. I snap a picture. I would love to post it on Instagram. I would love to scream to the world that I want her to be mine, but for the moment, I need her to be my safe haven. I can’t share her. I don’t want to share her. I feel my chest tighten and my eyes fill up. Fucking emotion. She’s so beautiful.
I kiss her forehead and get out of bed in my underwear; starvation causes of me to leave the warmth of her bed. On my way to the kitchen, I take in her beautiful apartment. The main room is spectacular. Dark timbers across the ceiling join support beams made of steel. The wooden floor is dark and complements the brick walls. There’s no dining area, just a bar in the kitchen. A large window lets in the light. In front of the window, in a corner, stands a majestic grand piano. I’m trying to remember if Anna told me she plays. I can’t recall if she does, and that bothers me.
Without thinking, I step behind the piano and play a slightly out of tune version of Chopin’s Nocturne. I’ve played it so many times, it comes naturally to my fingers, and I can’t stop the emotions stirring in me. I haven’t played classical music in a long time. It was one of Blossom’s favorite styles. My father’s too. I hate it, but Chopin is my mother’s favorite, and it’s the only way I have to feel close to her when she’s far away.
Piano is the first instrument I played, before the guitar was cooler, before singing brought more girls. I thought I would become a classical piano player, but I became a rock star. Life doesn’t always happen as planned.
I’m so lost in my piece, I don’t realize Anna is sitting on the sofa until my very last note. She’s wearing the Darling Devils T-shirt I gave her, along with black panties, and she looks even more beautiful than when she was sleeping. I feel squeamish though, as if my dirty secret has been discovered. I'm ashamed by the tears I sense falling on my cheeks.
I lock eyes with her. She looks confused, teary, but her smile is genuine. She extends her hand to invite me to the sofa, where I join her.
“You play classical music too,” she states while snuggling against me.
“I used to. Don’t play it much anymore.”
“But you can play Chopin?”
“And you know Chopin?” I raise an eyebrow.
“I listen to classical music when I work. It helps me concentrate.” She smiles.
“And the piano?”
“I play, sometimes.” She shrugs. “So Wes used to play Chopin, but Dan doesn’t?” She raises her eyebrow, a pinch of amusement in her voice.
I laugh. “Something like that.”
“What else did Wes do that Dan doesn’t?” Her hand is stroking my chest, her head tilted so she can find my eyes.
I kiss her slowly, trying to think of an honest answer. I kiss her neck and give her answers between kisses. “Eat candy, ride a bike, go anywhere public through the front door, trust people, kiss in public, have a private life… I can go on.”
“I’d like to know Wes.” She brings my face next to hers, reaching for my lips with hers.
I’ve never heard those words. Nobody wants to know Wes. A few know him, but they all much prefer Dan.
She breaks the kiss and continues. “You can be whomever you want here. Dan or Wes or anybody else as long as you’re genuine.”
“Love, I don’t have a split personality. Just sometimes I wish I could be anonymous. If I were, right now, I’d fuck you against that window without being paranoid that a neighbor will recognize me and snap a pic to send to TMZ or post on social media. That’s it. I can play Chopin on the piano for you. Not many people know about that. You want me to be genuine? I am when I’m with you. Me being here could make your life hell. As much as I’m used to having mine be hell and not be able to trust people, I don’t want that for you.”
“I get it,” she says with a tremor in her voice. “As long as you want to hide here, my door is open. But nobody else. That’s my only rule. We don’t have to put a name on what we are for each other, we can be whatever we want, but no other partners. If you can’t give me that, you should leave now.”
For someone who didn’t even want to sleep with me two days ago, she now wants me to promise there will be only her, even if I don’t see her for months?
“So if I want to see you after the tour, it needs to be only you for months of being apart?” I say half amused, half scared. Amused because I never thought she would be the one locking us down in a relationship after two days. Scared because I know I’m going to say yes. I don’t know how I’m going to do it, but I’m going to try.
“I like you, and I like being with you. So that’s th
e deal. The idea you could be with someone else is killing me.”
As if hearing my heart swelling, my phone chimes with the sound I know belongs to my father. I sigh. I can’t say no to Anna, but by becoming exclusive with her, I could hurt her like I hurt him, like I hurt everybody around me.
“Life on tour isn’t glamorous, Anna. I’ll be overtired, overworked, overbooked. I won’t have time until late at night, but if you can give me a few hours a day of texts or phone calls, I’ll be yours. But you do understand that for the moment, we have to keep it hushed? I won’t be telling your name in interviews or jumping on a sofa for you. I don’t want a horde of paparazzi at your door while I’m away. I need time. Are you okay with that?”
“I am. I need time as well. Do we have a deal?”
I need a little reassurance before shaking on a deal that could fuck my image forever. “Are you going to wait for me? Are you going to let the wall down long enough to not freak out on me?”
“I’ll try.”
Her honesty hurts, but it’s better than a lie.
I pull her to me, wrapping my arms around her, bringing her face close to mine, our lips so close but not kissing. We both stop breathing, lost in the moment of what we agreed to. When our lips touch, all the tension evaporates from my shoulders and fervor spreads through my chest. She slightly opens her mouth, and my tongue finds its way in. I push her onto the sofa, getting on top of her. Our kiss deepens while my hands caress her body.
“Fuck, Anna love, where were you the last twenty years? I love losing myself in you.”
My thoughts aren’t clear. All I know is that I need to be over her, with her, in her. I need her.
“I want you,” she whispers.
Those three little words make me lose my mind. Clothes fly out of the way and I enter her, my cock feeling her wetness around me. I stay there, shivering.
“Fuck, I need a condom,” I say, not sure I have any with me.
She reaches for her discarded panties and gets two condoms from there. “I came into the living room prepared.”
She has a huge smile, and I’m more than in love with this woman. Who carries condoms in her panties?
“Proud of yourself, Anna love? Let me fuck that smirk off your face.”
I wrap my dick and then thrust into her, giving her every part of me until we both orgasm and my stupid grin returns. Once she falls asleep on my chest, I text my father.
Me: I can’t do it anymore. How much do you want to get out of the deal?
I’ll pay whatever I have to to never see him again. I need to protect Anna from him and the effect he has on me. Because Anna is it for me.
13
Anna
I don’t know who’s crazier: me for asking Dan to be exclusive or him for accepting. Yesterday, when I woke up to soft classical music played by a god in his underwear, I kind of forgot all my fears and hang-ups. I wanted him forever in my apartment, waking me up every day with Chopin. We spent the rest of the day cuddling on my couch, eating Chinese on the floor, watching a movie, and talking about our likes and dislikes. I learned his favorite color is green, but he hates green peas. Moving to the States was the hardest thing he ever did. He can’t eat sushi or any raw fish or meat without vomiting, and his favorite city was London, but it might be New York now.
This is relationship territory, and I’m petrified. I have no idea what being in a relationship with a rock star entails. I’m certainly not following him on tour and putting my job on hold. I can’t live with him in LA when my life is in Montreal. And we can’t go to a restaurant like normal couples, hold hands in the streets, or go to the market. Not that I ever go to the market, but still. Privacy isn’t easy. But I asked him to hold on to me, and he agreed.
It seems my vagina took over my brain. The thing is, great sex will make you fall in love. Am I blinded by his magic cock? What was I thinking to ask him to only see me?
Checking my phone, I see that Naomi, Jules, and Debbie continued bombarding me with questions. I’m not answering. I can’t share—or maybe I don’t want to share. I want to keep this Dan to myself. Pictures of Dan walking in Montreal have surfaced the Internet, as well as articles wondering if he’s staying here because of the mysterious Anna he dedicated a song to. My head is spinning. I really hope nobody saw him in my building yesterday because I’m not ready for the storm brewing.
I need to speak to Ol. I never called him back since our last conversation. I’m certainly not earning the Sister of the Year award, but I need to talk to him to think straight. Getting out of the bed, I grab a coffee in the kitchen and sit at the bar.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Ol, time to talk?”
“Hey, sis, I always have time for you at the crack of dawn! Not that I close a bar every night at four a.m. and am asleep by six. Never.”
Shit… I check the time on my phone. Ten past six. I’m really the worst sister. I wince but still go on with the reason for my call. “Dan is sleeping in my bed. I asked him to be exclusive, and he said yes.”
“Good for you? Why are we freaking out?” He yawns.
“Am I crazy?”
“Fuck, can you just enjoy the moment? I understand you’re afraid of getting bitten in the ass again and that falling for a bigger slut than you might scare the shit out of you, but can’t you be casual and see where it leads you without fucking it up by overthinking? Just let it be.”
“Ol, this is so complicated. I’m fucking lost in him when he looks at me, and I don’t want to be lost in anybody anymore!”
“Does it feel the same as with Scumbag?”
“More!”
“So maybe it is more?” he asks.
“That’s what I don’t want.”
“You’re lying to yourself.”
I pout. “Since when do you tell me what I don’t want to hear?”
“Since you don’t call me to know how I am but only to speak about your feelings.”
“Oh, fuck off! You’re constantly depressed. I know the drill. I promise I’ll come soon.”
“Whatever.”
Dan appears in the kitchen and stands between my legs, apparently not caring that I’m on the phone, and he kisses my neck.
“I have to go, Ol, please don’t be mad. I’ll call you as soon as Dan leaves.”
“Right. Bye, sis.”
I feel like the worst sister ever. I wonder if I should worry. He’s had a few down days per year since his fiancée passed away three years ago, but it seems to be lasting longer this time.
Dan continues kissing me, and thoughts of Oliver fade away. When his fingers are playing with my nipples and his mouth closes around my hard bud, only Dan is on my mind. It seems so easy for him to make me forget anything else.
“What are you doing?” I ask, a little out of breath.
He pushes his hand in my underwear. “Are you freaking out yet?”
“A little.” I moan from his finger playing with my clit.
Dan seems amused. Leaning his forehead against mine, he looks at me with fervor, and I melt under his touch. My pleasure coats his fingers, and he smiles knowingly. Does this man have a turn-off button?
“Me too,” he says, “but I don’t want us to freak out. I want you, Anna love.”
“I want you too,” I say while his fingers thrust into me.
“Say it again!” he commands, playing with my clit.
“I want you too, Dan!”
“Yeah, I knew it the moment you said you didn’t want to come to my room. I knew you wanted me as much as I wanted you.”
My only response is moaning, his fingers making me lose my mind. “Dan! Oh, Dan, yes!”
I come, admitting to my rock star that I also wanted him from the start.
“What are you doing today?” I ask after coming back from my bedroom, dressed for my day of work.
But Dan isn’t listening. He has his nose in his phone and is typing furtively, his features angry and his eyes void of emotion. He seems to be cold, dist
ant, calculating, which isn’t a side of him I’ve seen in the last three days. It sends a chill down my spine, but not like the ones I felt the first time he touched me.
“Dan?”
He puts away his phone, and all the emotions I just saw disappear. His devilish smile and hungry eyes are back, as well as his warmth. “What were you saying, love?”
But I can’t ignore what I just saw. “Are you okay? You seemed like something was bothering you.”
“Scheduling problems. Don’t worry, nothing you should be concerned about.” His phone chimes and he ignores it, so I do too and kiss him.
“What are you doing today?” I ask him once again.
“I’ll be at the studio again. See where Lars and Art are at, spend some time with them. You?”
“Work, more work, work… oh, and work.” I laugh.
“Do you have time for coffee?”
“I always have time for coffee with you.” I kiss him once more.
Dan pulls me onto his lap. “I like that, you going to work, me staying behind. I would love to do so every day. We could have a dog and live in a castle. Fuck, I would love to live in a castle.”
He seems a little restless. It’s cute, but I’m afraid he’ll speak about children. I need to change the subject because I know the castle, the dog, like the children, won’t happen.
To remind him what our real future looks like, I steer the conversation toward his tour. “So what cities are you touring?”
“Paris, Berlin, Milan, Moscow, Budapest, Amsterdam, Madrid, and finally London. A show every two days, and the last five days in London to record a few songs for the next album.” He caresses my back slowly.
“That’s a lot.”
“That’s the job.” He shrugs.
“Doesn’t your father live in London?” I feel him tensing under my touch, his hand stopping on its way up my back.
“He does,” he answers coldly.
“Are you going to see him?” I shouldn’t pry. God knows I hate speaking about my parents.