Dream Lover

by Aubrey Wright

  “Aside from the fact that your name would’ve been Mrs. Pepper Salt.”

  “Aside from that, yeah,” I said with a slight grin. “I mean, when we came back into each other’s lives after so long, and he dropped it on me that he’d had this crush on me for years it just felt…I don’t know, it felt like this was how it was supposed to happen, right?”

  “The rom-com cliché,” said Katy. “The guy you knew in high school who was always in love with you but you never saw it. Then years later, you realize that you’re both meant for each other.”

  “Exactly,” I said. “It sounded so perfect. But looking back, I just never felt it for him the way he did for me. And evidently he didn’t either, considering he left me on our freaking wedding day for a girl who’s practically still in diapers.”

  “The wedding day that you had no say in,” said Katy. “The one he turned into Nerdapalooza without even consulting you about.”

  “True,” I said.

  “And do you wish you would’ve gone through with a marriage with a dude who’d ditch you for the kind of girl who wouldn’t have given him the time of day when he was her age?”

  She had me there. “You’re right,” I said. “And it’s like I know with my head that it was probably for the best that the wedding never happened. But at the same time…”

  “Still hurts like an mf’er to know that you got dumped on your big day,” she said.

  “That’s it.”

  “And that’s the gooey, nougat filling at the center of this particular morsel,” she said. “There’s a reason you’re not getting guys beating the snot out of each other trying to get a chance to talk to you. And it’s not because there’s something weird and effed up about you—it’s because you’re sending out level-ten bitch rays to any guy within a fifty-foot radius.”

  “No, I’m not,” I quickly shot back, my arms crossed over my chest.

  “Yes, you are,” said Katy. “Think of it as a dude-repulsion ray. On the surface, you’re ready to date again. But deep down you’re scared as shit of getting hurt for a second time. And it shows.”

  “Here we go again,” I said.

  “Seriously,” she said. “I don’t mean to sound like a broken record, but it’s true. Guys can sense when a girl’s giving ‘back the fuck off’ vibes. And Pep, we’ve talked about this before—you’re putting them out like Chernobyl puts out radiation. Ever since the wedding.”

  I scoffed, eager to dismiss the thought just like I’d done whenever she or any of the other girls had brought up the subject before. But something about right then, hearing it at that moment, made it click that she was right.

  Before the conversation could continue, however, Sam and Shania and their dudes ran over, their eyes as wide as saucers.

  “Guys!” said Sam, her handsome dude’s hand in hers. “Mike here said that he knows one of the guys backstage, and if we want, he can get us back there to see Lover Boys coming out!”

  “You serious?” asked Katy.

  “Serious,” said the man evidently named Mike, his voice as smooth and rich as melted dark chocolate. “One word, and we’re back.”

  He was clearly happy to be able to flaunt his clout like that, and Sam was clearly happy to be the flauntee. Talk about your matches made in heaven.

  But at that moment I just felt defeated. Katy was right, but the realization had knocked the damn wind out of my sails. Had I really been shooting out bitch vibes at any poor sucker who’d been nice enough to give me a scrap of attention?

  “Come on,” said Katy, taking my hand. “Tonight’s not the night to be all up in your head. Let’s go!”

  Before I had a chance to say anything, the six of us were rushing through the crowd and making our way toward the backstage area. I watched as Mike greased the palms or whatever trick he had up his sleeve, and sure enough, one of the guards opened the door and let us all through. Katy still had my hand, and she didn’t waste any time in pulling me along with the rest of the group.

  I had no idea how exclusive this whole backstage thing was, but there were enough people back there to give me the impression that whatever clout Mike had, it wasn’t all that unique. We all rushed down the long hallway, and in spite of everything, I was getting more and more excited with each step. Sure, it was stupid and fangirly, but I was entitled to a little stupid fun, right?

  Eventually we reached a velvet rope that sectioned off the normal, regular-person backstage area from the extra-special, famous-people-only backstage zone. The energy crackled in the air like fireworks as we all awaited the band to come out. Before too long a chant broke out—“Lov-er-Boys, Lov-er Boys!”

  I thought I’d grown out of stuff like that—I was a grown-ass woman after all, right? But standing there smashed among my friends and all the other Lover Boys fans, I felt like I was eighteen again. I couldn’t believe how excited I was.

  The chant reached an earsplitting climax, and soon the boys came out, all decked in their glam-rock glory. First there was Sean, the former bassist and now world-famous DJ. Then Theo—the George Harrison-esque thinking man of the group who’d parlayed his brains into a career as an academic. And then Will Gilles, the Hollywood leading man.

  God, they were all so fucking hot. I didn’t even care that they were dressed like Mötley Crüe taken up to eleven—each of the guys just radiated sex in his own way.

  And when Noah Mack himself came out, all bets were off. He strolled out, that gorgeous, cocky smile on his face, his gold hair wild like a mane, his leather vest skimpy enough that I could see every last line of his lean and toned muscles. And on his arm was a tattoo of the heart-and-guitar logo for the band.

  Just the sight of him was enough to get me so wet I worried I might turn the backstage hall into a freaking slip-and-slide. I couldn’t believe the effect he was having on me.

  And when he locked eyes with me it was all over.

  At first I was sure I was imagining things. No way out of all the girls packed around me would Noah Mack single me out. But he did. His dark brown eyes stayed on mine, and the cocky smile faded from his face and was replaced with an expression that was something like “daaamn.”

  It didn’t last more than a couple of seconds. But those brief moments were enough for my pussy to clench and my nipples to turn so hard they threatened to tear right through my bra and poke the poor girl who happened to be standing next to me in the back of the head.

  Then one of the guys approached Will, clapped his hand down on his broad, round shoulder, and guided him off. And that was that.

  “Come on!” said Katy, taking my hand again and pulling me through the crowd. “They’re going on! We’ve got to get close!”

  I didn’t have a say in the matter. And it was a good thing I didn’t—Noah Mack’s gaze had been so intense that if Katy hadn’t been there to take me, I would’ve probably stood slack-jawed until security booted me out onto my butt.

  We were soon all caught up in the stampede of people rushing to the front of the stage. No idea how we managed it, but the whole group ended up at the front. The tension and anticipation in the air was so intense I felt short of breath. Lover Boys knew how to make their fans beg for it, and the chant of their name made this abundantly clear.

  Then they came out.

  Wild cheers erupted as the boys strode onto the stage. Noah snatched the mic off the stand and brought it to his mouth.

  “Silver Lake!” he shouted. “Are you ready to rock?”

  More wild cheers. The bass drum started up, kicking at a steady tempo. Then Sean came in with a grooving bassline. Theo was next with a raunchy, distorted riff which signaled that they were going right into one of their biggest hits, “The Girl in My Life.”

  And I stood there like a total fangirl goon, my jaw on the floor as Noah strutted, shaking his hips to the beat in a way that made Mick Jagger look like nothing.

  He went into the song, and the crowd went totally batshit crazy around me. Right from the jump, I had a crazy-bi
g smile on my face. I was so thrilled and overwhelmed and everything else that I didn’t even dance—I just stood there like a starstruck goon as Noah and the rest of the boys did what they did best.

  And, of course, I was absolutely struck by how much of a fucking hottie he was. I had to admit, part of me was worried he and the rest of the guys would look a little silly in a way they weren’t intending in their goofy leather and makeup—like maybe their skin would be matching their pants, if you get what I’m saying. But they didn’t. If anything, the little bit of maturity added to their looks. Each of them was still trim and fit, with faces that looked straight out of a damn razor-blade commercial.

  On top of that, my eyes kept drifting down, down, to the very lovely VPL that Noah had on full display. I was so taken by this delicious little detail that I hardly noticed when he cast his glance down to me, flashed that unbeatable smile and…

  …invited me up on stage.

  7

  PEPPER

  I had no idea what do to. The last chord of the song hung in the air, Will banging out a big finale on his snare and cymbals.

  And there was Noah Mack’s hand, his fingers decked out in hilariously gaudy rings.

  “Come on,” he mouthed, flicking his head up toward the stage.

  I looked around, as if wanting one of the girls to say something, point out that I was right in the middle of the most insane hallucination of all time. Sure enough, I caught Katy’s glance, and she somehow, with only her expressive eyes, managed to say, “What the hell are you doing, you crazy woman? Get up there!”

  So I did. I turned back to Noah and took his hand. It was warm and rough and felt just like a man’s should, the metal of his rings cool. With a heave, he helped me onto the stage. And as if things couldn’t get any more unbelievable, he wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close against his solid, muscular frame. Fear and nervousness and total, complete arousal took hold of me.

  “We’re going to do something a little special for this next one,” he said, his voice flowing over the crowd like a sheet of silk.

  My chest rose and fell, and I was scared out of my mind that I might get so turned on standing there with Noah that I’d unleash a flood on the first row of people. Glances to my left and right revealed the other guys pulling up a few other girls from the crowd, all of them just as shocked and thrilled as I was.

  “It’s fun to be back with the boys,” he said. “But the music’s nothing, and I mean nothing without all of you. So, let’s start this show off with some fun—what do you say?”

  Crazy, and I mean insane, applause ripped through the place, only dying down when Noah raised his free hand and quieted them.

  “So, ladies,” he said. “I hope you all know how to dance!”

  Wait, what? Did Noah Mack just bring me, one of the most uncoordinated human beings on the planet, up on stage to dance with him? Part of me wanted to run screaming back into the crowd, the mental image of my nearly six-foot frame flailing around on stage knocking everything over clear as a picture in my mind.

  But it was too late to turn back. The moment Theo began blasting out the unmistakable opening riff to their biggest hit, “Permission to Love,” the crowd went wild.

  Noah slipped his arm out from around me and gave me a wink that made me want to melt as he raised the mic to his lips. But as soon as he began to sing, the total insanity I was in the middle of made everything sound like a muffled din. The rest of the girls on stage went right into dancing, of course, shaking their booties and tossing their hair, having the time of their lives.

  And I stood there like a total goon, no idea what to do with any part of my body.

  “You’re feelin’ hot,” sang Noah, starting the chorus. “You’re feelin’ weak.”

  He was getting right to the climax of the song, and all I could do was stare off into space, totally thunderstruck, the stage lights feeling like some kind of alien tractor beam that I was caught in.

  “You’re feelin’ good,” he went on, his voice just as powerful and hypnotic as ever. “You’re at your peak.”

  As if sensing just how out of my element I was, Noah spun around on his snakeskin boots and locked my eyes.

  “I know you want it,” he said. “I won’t make you beg.”

  Despite the small series of panic attacks that felt like they were going to take me apart at the seams, Noah making eyes on me, singing those lyrics, was enough to put me in a state like I’d never known before. All the power and charisma of one of the biggest rock gods in the game was focused on me, and me alone.

  “You’ve got me feelin’ like I’m on some new kind of drug,” he said, slinking toward me. “Awww, damn, girl, I need your permission to love!”

  Done. I was done. If it was possible to spontaneously combust from total sexual insanity, I would’ve done it right there at that moment. It was the theme song to many crazy nights of my youth, and there was the man himself, belting it out just for me.

  It was enough to smash my inhibitions like a beer can under a trucker’s boot. A broad smile spread across my face as I rocked my hips to the side and began to shake my skinny booty like there was no tomorrow. Noah watched me move, his dark, thick eyebrows arching in what appeared to be happy surprise.

  A roar erupted from the crowd as I shook my thing, everyone in the place cheering me on. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing or what I was doing, but something about the music and the stage and everything else worked to put me in some kind of crazed trance.

  And I loved every second of it.

  Noah went back into the verse, sidling up to me and grinding that beautiful VPN against me as he wailed. It was so amazing and so naughty I’d have been lying if I’d said that I wasn’t a little thrilled to know I was the envy of every girl in that concert hall.

  By the time Noah and the boys got to the second chorus I was dancing like a total crazy person. I was sure I looked ridiculous, but I didn’t care one bit. I was having the time of my life with possibly the most sizzling slice of sex on the planet.

  The bridge hit, Theo rocking a screaming guitar solo that gave me chills as I danced. The rest of the girls were having just as much fun as me, but none of them seemed to have captured Noah’s attention the way I had.

  Was it all in my imagination? Or was the lead singer of Lover Boys really eye-fucking me nonstop during the middle of their biggest hit?

  Finally, the boys brought the song to a crashing close, Will pounding the drums, Theo throwing out one last insane guitar flourish, and Sean droning on one last bass note. And of course, Noah wailing like he’d been possessed by the spirit of rock itself.

  And just like that, the song was over. The place burst out into applause, and I stood there dumbfounded, my chest heaving and my eyes wide.

  Before I could even think what to do next, I felt a hand grab onto my hip. I whipped around to see who it was, and sure enough, it was Noah. He grinned, leaned in, and whispered into my ear the words I’d been wanting to hear since I was a teenage fangirl.

  “My dressing room after the show. You in?”

  8

  PEPPER

  The rest of the concert passed like some kind of insane, totally wild dream. The girls were in total awe, and I had to admit that I enjoyed their clear and total jealousy at the fact I’d been picked to be the one to dance onstage with Noah.

  But through the rest of the dancing and the music and the excitement of the show, the question nagged at me like a little bug that had gotten inside my head—why me?

  Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not the kind of girl to beat up myself or think I’m no good or any of that nonsense. I have a very healthy self-opinion, thank you very much. I mean, not too unhealthy. But you know.

  Noah Mack inviting me up onstage was something else. Despite the fact that this was a secret show, there were hundreds of people packed into the Satellite. And to my surprise, they weren’t all Millennial-aged fans like me and the girls. Nope, there were plenty of younge
r fans there, ones who got into the Lover Boys after their breakup, or had been listening to them since before they’d gone through puberty.

  This meant that Noah had his pick of any barely legal babe he wanted in the place. But no—he picked me. He looked right into the crowd at me, grinned that impossible little grin, and yanked me up onstage next to him.

  And that wasn’t all. Nope, not even a little. He gave me a backstage invite to hang out with him and…do what?

  As Lover Boys finished up “Jet Lane Woman,” the final song of their second encore, I stood in place totally flummoxed. Why did he invite me backstage? Did he make me out to be just another potential groupie, one of those chicks he could pump and dump?

  Then again…would that be so bad? Would a fling with one of the hottest rock stars on the planet be so awful? Not like I’d had much in the way of that kind of action since I was dating George, and our sex life hadn’t exactly been anything to brag about.

  I didn’t have time to finish weighing my thoughts on the matter. The boys said their goodbyes and grabbed their gear and headed off, and my girls didn’t waste any time in surrounding me and peppering me with all sorts of questions. Behind them Sam and Shania’s dudes stood with their hands in their pockets, like they knew that nothing they could say or do would be more impressive than hearing all the deets about my dance with Noah Mack.

  But I could barely wrap my head around my own thoughts, let alone the total cacophony of the girls.

  “OK!” said Shania, her voice rising above the rest. “Let’s go to the Thirsty Crow, and we can talk about all this there.”

  And that brought us to the other little detail of the dance with Noah—my backstage invite.

  “Um, thing about that,” I said.

  The girls all turned their attention to me, and I went into it. They were shocked, they were thrilled, they were in total disbelief. And I was right there with them.