“Make it quick,” I say with a wink, “’cause we’re starting right now.”
She squeals and sips on her straw until the glass is empty. “Whoa … Dizzy.”
I laugh. “But it’s not even alcoholic.”
“It’s cold!” she spits back. “But not as cold as this icy bitch will get in a minute.” She bumps into me with her elbow. “So what’s the plan again?”
I point at the guard to the right side of the stage. “You’re going to distract him so I can slip past.”
“Right.” She nods. “And then?”
“Then I do my thing,” I reply.
“Which is what?” She raises a brow. “C’mon, Mo, you’ve been dangling this revenge plan in front of me for ages now. I need details.”
I sigh. “Let’s just say … this won’t be one of his greatest performances.”
Her eyes widen, and something sparkles in her eyes. “Oh … you’re gonna mess with the band? Nice.” She raises her hand, and we high five. “That’s my girl.”
“Shhh …” I put a finger against my lip. “I don’t want this to get out before I’m done.”
She makes a gesture that her lips are sealed. “I won’t talk … unless it’s that guard, of course. I’ll spin him around my finger and pretend I’m a floozy.” She hops off the stool and flaunts her stuff. “What do you think? Can I pull this off?” She shows off her leopard print skirt and cropped top coupled with a cute bow in her hair.
“If you can’t, no one can,” I say, and she smiles. “Feel free to start whenever. I’ll be waiting in the crowd.”
She nods and walks off toward the guard. I slip off my seat after checking to see if anyone’s paying attention before disappearing into the gossiping, eagerly waiting crowd. The tension is high here. Everyone’s waiting for TRIGGER to come out and give them a show that’ll make their ears pop. And I can’t help but grin knowing what’s going to happen once these people don’t get what they paid for, and what Cole’s reaction is going to be once people start recording on their cell phones. I hope they film an epic meltdown that’ll follow him and his cronies for the rest of his life.
Don’t mess with Monica. That was once a statement I lived by, and I’m finally starting to feel like my old self again. And I guess I have that twisted asshole to thank for that.
I wait in the crowd while Mel does her thing. She approaches the guard and sweet talks him, twirling her hair with her finger, touching his arm, playing with his emotions like she’s done this plenty of times before. I didn’t know she was this well-versed in the flirting game. Within seconds, she manages to lure him away from the hallway he was protecting, and they face the wall together while she keeps distracting him. I’m impressed.
I swiftly pass through the crowd and slip along the stage only to come face-to-face with Mel. We briefly make eye contact only for her to wave me off with a finger before returning her focus to the beefed-up guy in front of her.
Without much trouble, I manage to bypass the guard and run into the hallway when she’s got him looking away. I don’t go into Cole’s room; instead, I hop into a ‘SERVICE ONLY’ room that’s full of mops, buckets, and cleaning supplies. There, I wait until Cole comes out and goes into the bathroom, which is straight across from his changing room.
That’s my shot.
Bursting out, I reach his door, opening it silently, then closing it again without making a sound. I look around and move as fast as I can. In the corner, on top of the table, lies his guitar case.
Bingo.
I immediately open it up. It’s a beautiful guitar, one he always carries with him, so this is my only chance. Such a shame, though, it’s a damn nice guitar.
I fish a knife from my pocket and grab a string.
“Here goes nothing,” I whisper to myself, and I cut the first one off, and then another one for good measures.
Suddenly, the toilet in the other room flushes, and panic fills my veins as quickly as the water rushes through the bowl. I have to get out of here before I’m caught in the act.
But there’s no time because the moment I close the case, someone’s already grabbing the door handle.
Cole!
My body freezes, and my mind goes numb. What do I do? If he finds me here, everything will have been for nothing. I have to hide.
I look around to find a closet in the back. It’s my only option.
Fuck, not again.
I run to it and hop inside, slamming the doors shut behind me … right as Cole saunters inside.
My whole body tenses the moment I spot him strutting around with mere boxer shorts on. His muscular body covered with tattoos stands out among all others, and even after all the things he did to me, I still can’t stop ogling him.
I wish I wasn’t this attracted to him. That watching him strut his stuff did nothing to me. That the kiss he gave me in the lake meant nothing to me. But they do, and I hate myself for it. I let myself fall for the trap that is Cole Travis, and I’ve paid the price.
Now it’s time for him to pay his.
I swallow as he picks up his clothes, his signature leather jacket and pants, which were spread out on a chair, and he puts them on. With some setting spray and a comb, he does his hair in the mirror and grins smugly at himself.
Sure, Cole. You enjoy the foreplay … while it lasts.
Because as soon as you go out there on stage, your world will come crashing down.
Just as you did to mine.
Suddenly, he walks straight toward me and the closet I’m hiding in.
My eyes widen, and my breath falters, so I hold it in.
He pauses right in front of the tiny sliver that allows me to spy on him. His phone buzzes, and he picks it up.
“Yeah? Okay. Be right out.”
He puts it back in his pocket and picks up the guitar case, and I breathe a sigh of relief.
The crowd in the front room begins to chant, and a voice blares through a microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen … TRIGGER!”
Screaming ensues.
The door opens and closes.
The air around me is silent. Empty.
And I can breathe again.
I close my eyes for a second to allow the calm to wash over me.
A deranged smile forms on my lips.
I did it. I fucking did it.
I laugh and smash open the door, laughing my way out. I’m so struck by how well this massive operation—that could’ve been filled with major fuckups—went that I can’t stop laughing. So I grab the chair to keep myself from falling down and laughing even harder. I’m just so amazed it actually worked.
The crowd begins to boo, loudly. Right then, a roar emanates from the room beyond. I glare at the door.
That was … definitely Cole.
He must’ve seen what happened to his guitar, which means the concert can’t happen. And he’ll be back in this room within seconds.
Shit.
I shouldn’t be here. Why am I still here? I should’ve run straight the fuck out, but I couldn’t help myself and had to gloat over the situation as if that would help me get out.
I hope it’s not too late.
I run to the door and turn the knob, but as I open it wide, someone in a black leather jacket stands in front of me, blocking the way. And when my eyes travel up to meet his, I cower beneath his towering figure.
“Cole.”
As I take a step back, my lips quiver in fear as I realize all the things that are probably going to happen to me now … and that I’m not prepared.
Chapter 23
Cole
Three minutes of complete and utter embarrassment. That’s all it took for me to completely lose my shit right there on stage. Everyone saw—my band members, my fans, and hell, even this event’s crew. Many of them were shocked, but most were laughing right in my face, and it fucking hurt.
My personal reputation might not be that great, but performance is everything to me, and tonight I couldn’t do shit. Not with this
broken ass guitar with the strings cut … by none other than fucking Monica Romero.
Because the second I stormed into my changing room and saw her staring straight at me, I knew she did it. No one else would carry so much grudge as to try to ruin my concert. No … this was a sophisticated plan. And I want to know all the details.
When I step toward her, the door slams shut behind me. She silently mocks me with a scowl. It’s almost as if she wants to say, What are you going to do?
And that’s exactly what I’m thinking too.
What am I going to do with her?
Especially with her wearing that tiny bright red dress that barely covers her ample thighs that make me want to bite into them.
Instead, I bite my lip and stare her down. “I should’ve known you’d stoop this low.”
“You get what you wish for,” she hisses.
What I wished for? Damn, she’s got some spunk saying that to my face.
“So you admit that you destroyed my guitar?” I lift it up for her to see.
She raises a brow at me, but it’s all I need. And in my rage, I chuck the guitar away. She jolts up and down from the scare.
“I thought that—”
“That guitar meant something to me?” I interject. “Damn right. And you ruined my performance tonight.”
She straightens up again as if she’s proud she managed to hurt me a little. “You brought that on yourself.”
Those beautiful red lips are a sinful distraction to our conversation, making it hard to focus. I step closer, and she steps back as though we’re stuck in an eternal dance of push and pull. “I brought you here?” I growl. “Because as far as I know, I didn’t invite anyone into the back.”
She swallows as if she got caught in the act.
“Sneaked past the guard? Got a friend to help you out?” I cock my head, still walking closer while she keeps backing away. “You do realize I could get you kicked out of here for good, right?”
“I don’t care,” she retorts. “Do it if it makes you feel better.”
My nostrils flare. It might be a small pinch of retribution, but it wouldn’t make a difference. Not to this situation.
“Did it feel good?” I ask, my tongue darting out to wet my bottom lip. “Sneaking in here just to vandalize my guitar?”
Her eyes glimmer with pride. “Damn right … And I’d do it again if I had to, just to make a point.”
I lower my head as I keep stepping forward while she steps back. “And what point was that?”
“That you messed with the wrong girl,” she says through gritted teeth.
A smirk forms on my face. I can’t help it. She just makes me laugh. “You’re funny.”
“What?” she mutters, clearly confused.
I shake my head and snort. “I’m amazed …” I look her directly in the eyes. “That you thought this would stop me from getting closer to you.”
Her pupils dilate, and her lips part as if she wants to say words she doesn’t dare to speak out loud. After a few seconds, she regains her courage. “Why?”
“Why not?” I retort.
When she can’t back away any farther, I plant a hand beside her against the wall.
“Don’t you ever get tired of bullying?” she asks as I tower over her.
“Bullying?” I snort, shaking my head. “You throw that word around a lot, but I’m starting to doubt you even know what it means.”
“Like hell, I don’t. That’s what you do,” she says, glaring up at me. “You twist things. You tease me, play me like I’m some kind of dumbass.” She tries to shove me away, but it’s no use because I’m much stronger than her.
I could move … but I’m not interested in letting her off that easy. Not after the stunt she just pulled.
“Monica … oh, Monica … you should’ve thought about the consequences before doing what you just did,” I say, grabbing her chin to make her look at me. “You come in here to try to ruin me, my reputation, my band, and you think I’d let you off the hook? You should’ve run when you had the chance.”
She makes a face. “I came here to give you a taste of your own medicine, and you know damn well you deserved it.”
I guess she’s right on that part.
“If you wanted attention, all you had to do was ask,” I say, raising a brow.
“I don’t. You degrade me. Push me to my limits. You even took a picture of my body. Why?”
“You know why,” I retort, trying to make her see.
“To protect your reputation?” She scoffs. “Like it’s that amazing.”
I cock my head. “Now, that’s a low blow.”
“You could’ve asked me not to tell anyone,” she hisses.
I narrow my eyes. “And trust you on your word?”
Her brows furrow. “And I’m supposed to trust you with a picture of my body?”
We stare at each other for a moment, but I can’t come up with a good comeback. Damn. She really got me there.
“I guess we should work on that,” I jest.
“Work on that?” She sounds offended now, and she folds her arms in defense. “You think it’s all fun and games, don’t you? I’m not amused.”
A few tears well up in her eyes again, the same kind that trickled down her cheeks back in the cabin, and they immediately bring me back to that moment … when I turned into a monster. And I did it all just to protect my band … the same band she just thrashed into the ground.
If that isn’t poetic, I don’t know what is.
“You think you can mess with me, but I don’t play nice,” she snarls. “I’m not a fucking victim. I bite back. And you’re finally catching on.”
Grinding my teeth, I stare at the girl in front of me, clearly hurting because of all the things I did to her. It wounds my fucking soul, and I don’t fucking understand why.
I never used to care. Not for anyone, not even for myself.
And here she is, breaking open the parts of me I thought were forbidden.
A tear rolls down her cheek, and I instinctively reach for it and brush it aside with my thumb.
She just stands there in complete shock, her mouth opening as my thumb slides down her lip, while my eyes find it impossible to look away from all the pain I’ve caused this beautiful girl who deserves better. Better than me.
“Do you hate me so much?” she growls.
Hate?
Hate her?
I couldn’t. Not ever.
And that’s exactly the problem. I needed her to hate me, so I wouldn’t have a reason to come close. But she refuses to give up on me, keeps fighting back. And it finally begins to dawn on me why.
The more I push … the more she pulls.
It was inevitable from the beginning.
No matter how much I told myself to stay away, to focus on my band, to keep myself from getting involved with someone related to the one person in this world who I hate the most.
But this girl … this girl is far from anyone I could ever hate.
And it’s about time she knows.
“You’ve got it all wrong, Monica Romero,” I say. My hand slides down to her chin, and I tip it up with my index finger. “I don’t hate you. I hate what you do to me. I hate … that you make me want you.”
Without thinking, I grab her face with both hands and kiss her hard.
I can’t stop myself. I have to claim her. After that stunt she just pulled, I need this from her to make it right. Because every damn time I kiss her, the turmoil inside my heart momentarily ceases to exist.
It’s something I never knew I needed until she came into my life.
It’s why I’ve found it so hard to stay away even though I should.
But I can’t do it anymore. I just fucking can’t.
I fucking crave her. Her mouth is like sweet, sinful sex on a midsummer day at the beach. Like a glass of expensive liquor after a night singing my lungs out. Like something I shouldn’t ever want but need more than anything else.
Her.
It’s always been her.
The day she set foot in Black Mountain Academy, she was already mine.
So I finally take what belongs to me and kiss her until I can’t breathe anymore. When I pause, I lean away from her swollen, reddened lips momentarily to look into her eyes and see the truth reflected in them: The same hunger that swept over me mere moments ago.
A half-smile perks up my lips.
Her jaw tightens, and her eyes smolder with fierceness.
SLAP!
Out of nowhere, a hand lands right on my cheek. The sting comes before I realize what happened, and my hand instinctively reaches for the spot on my cheeks.
She looks mad, completely unhinged, as though she wants to kick and punch her way out.
And I wait to see what she’s going to do … if another slap will follow. The pause seems eternal, as if time is ticking slower than ever, while her eyes search mine for answers to the questions burning deep inside her heart.
But we both know they won’t be answered … not without her learning to let go.
Her hand reaches for my face.
I close my eyes, expecting another blow.
Instead, she wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me in for a deep, heavenly kiss.
Chapter 24
Monica
I slapped him.
I slapped fucking Cole Travis right in the face.
And then I kissed him.
I’m fucking kissing him right now, and I can’t stop. I don’t want to stop. He tastes so good, like sin and spice all wrapped into a devilishly sexy package, and I can’t fucking stop wanting him.
My lips instinctively went back to his, even after slapping him. Even after my heart realized what he had done was wrong. That he kissed me just to make me forgive him. Just to throw me off.
But I can’t fight the attraction, can’t stop from wanting my lips on his, even when it’s going to be the death of me.
Because I know, deep down, that this boy is a killer.
Not a murderer of people but a murderer of hearts.
And my heart is on the line right fucking now, and I’m not even doing anything to stop him from claiming it as his. And I don’t understand why.
Rowdy Boy (A High School Bully Romance): Black Mountain Academy Page 17