by Mae, Amelia
We find our way to our suite, and I let us inside. My eyes go wide. It’s easily the most beautiful room I’ve ever been in, with gorgeous, expensive furniture and tasteful artwork and a balcony that overlooks the pool.
“It wasn’t too presumptuous, right?” he asks. “Booking a hotel room.”
“I mean, it kind of was. But…”
“You knew I’d put out.”
I laugh and kiss him again. This time the kissing turns into a little bit more. I push Dylan’s jacket off his shoulders, and he shrugs it off. It hits the floor.
“You should hang that up, so it doesn’t wrinkle,” I tell him.
“If you’re worried about a wrinkled suit jacket instead of getting on that bed as soon as possible, I’m doing something wrong.”
He lets his voice drop to something low and growly as he leans into me, his lips tickling my ear.
“Take that dress off, Jane,” he murmurs. “I want you naked and on the bed, ready for me.”
I shiver as his hands work out the knot at the base of my neck holding up my halter dress. The fabric falls and the top half of my dress falls to my waist. I skipped the bra.
“Fuck, Jane,” he seethes, “dress off. Bed now.”
I wiggle out of my dress and panties and lie down on the bed. I prop my head up on a fluffy pillow, watching Dylan undo his tie and unbutton his shirt.
I moan and arch my back as his shirt hits the floor.
“You come apart so fast, Jane,” he teases. “Seems like all I have to do is start taking some clothes off and you kind of lose it.”
“I know… I just want you,” I whimper, “please.”
I’ve lost all sense of dignity. I’m ready to beg him.
“I feel like I should make you wait for it,” he says with a nasty smirk.
“No. Now,” I groan. “Kiss me some more.”
Dylan takes the rest of his clothes and digs a condom out of his wallet before crawling onto the bed. His knees are on either side of my hips, and his hands are by my shoulders. He leans over me and I buck up to kiss him, trying to pull him down on top of me, but he’s hell-bent on teasing me, and it’s driving me insane.
“I like dressed-up Jane,” he whispers, pressing light kisses to my cheek and jaw, my neck, anywhere but my lips.
I pout. I try to grab for him, but he takes my hands in his and raises them over my head. He gives me a look that can only mean keep them here. I close my eyes. It’s torture not touching him.
“And I like art class Jane, all serious and precise,” he says, tearing open the condom. I watch him roll it on. “I like snarky, badass bartender Jane. And I especially like first-thing-in-the-morning Jane with her messy hair and that just-fucked smile on her face.”
Dylan lines himself up with my entrance. He dips his head down to suck my nipple into his mouth and work my piercing with his tongue.
“Fuck, Dylan,” I hiss.
“So many shades of Jane,” he murmurs. “This one is my favorite.”
He takes my other nipple into his mouth and pulls with his teeth.
“Ugh.”
Dylan pushes himself in an inch. Then another.
“More.”
“Because it’s the only time you really let yourself go,” he says, right in my ear. You’re not afraid to say what you want. You let yourself be bold. And impulsive.”
I’ve lost all ability to speak, so I clench around him. I like what he’s saying.
“It’s hot as fuck.”
Then he pushes himself all the way inside me in one sharp, powerful thrust, and my eyes roll back in my head a little. Dylan lets out a low groan and kisses me deeply. He steadily rocks into me, hitting every pleasure point, every nerve inside my body.
“Say my name, Jane,” he growls, thrusting his hips forcefully.
I struggle to catch my breath.
“Dylan,” I whimper.
“Say it again.”
I’m teetering on the edge of orgasm, and I’m so wound up, I know it’s going to be a spectacular fall.
“Say it, Jane,” he orders. “I want to hear you cry out my name when you come.”
I clench around him again. He grits his teeth and, to spite me, snaps his hips into me sharply.
“Dylan.”
I come so suddenly, I feel like I’m exploding and fireworks are going off behind my eyes.
“Fuck, Jane,” Dylan roars as he tumbles down after me.
Waves of pleasure wreck me and leave me ravaged and limbless on this bed. Dylan collapses on top of me, his hot breath hitting my neck.
He’s still inside me, and I don’t want to move him. I like his weight on top of me. I like how full I feel right now.
I want to wrap my arms around him and encourage him to stay put, but my body has forgotten how to function. Apparently so has his.
“Can’t move,” he whispers.
“Me neither.”
24
Dylan
It takes the better part of an hour, but I do eventually get off of Jane and help clean her up. I head to the kitchen for a glass of water and when I return to the bedroom, she’s not there.
“Jane?” I call out, finding my boxers and putting them back on.
“Out here.”
I poke my head out onto the balcony to see Jane standing there, leaning over the edge. The moonlight and the blue reflection from the pool make her skin glow. Her hair is all messy and she doesn’t bother fixing it. She’s wearing nothing but my dress shirt.
When I first saw Jane in that green dress, I thought she was beautiful.
But, in this moment, she’s fucking breathtaking.
She smiles contentedly and looks out at the water, and I just stare at her.
And I’m struck suddenly by how right this all feels. Jane and me together like this.
She’s very quickly become the person I tell things to. The person I want to see most at the end of the day.
My person.
The thought sort of scares me. I’m not a relationship guy. Or, well, I haven’t been in many years. My lifestyle just isn’t really conducive to it.
But the idea of coming home to Jane at the end of a tour, or even having her join me for it, makes me happy.
I always wondered if I idealized my connection with Jane. If I made it into more than it really was. In my mind, she was the one that got away, so I put her on a pedestal and turned her into my fantasy girl.
A light breeze blows her hair back and she shrieks, clutching the bottom of the shirt and keeping herself covered. I guess she skipped the underwear, and I wonder if I can talk her into doing that permanently.
“Fuck,” she says, laughing. “I almost flashed all of Los Angeles.”
This is her. This is Jane. My Jane. And she’s nothing like I imagined or remembered.
And yet, she’s completely perfect.
I want to ask her out again. To ask her what happens after this. After her trip? After the tour? But all of that is too much for right now, so I wrap my arms around her from behind and she rests her head on my shoulder.
We stand like this for some time before she starts to get cold.
“Let’s go back inside,” I whisper. “I’ll keep you warm.”
I hope Jane didn’t plan on sleeping in that massive bed, because I have other plans tonight.
I sit her down at the edge and kneel on the floor. She moans and shouts and tugs on my hair as I eat her out. I groan against her as she gushes and comes on my face. Twice.
Still a little sex drunk, she tries to wrestle me to my back and since I’m pretty sure this struggle end with Jane’s lips on my dick, I give in quickly, lie back and let her go to town on me.
When I come, she swallows me down and even though I’ve had two earth-shattering orgasms tonight, I still want more, so I tackle Jane back down to the mattress and make her come on my fingers.
By the time I’ve licked the taste of her off my hand, which she watched me do while biting her lip, I’m hard and ready t
o fuck her one last time tonight with everything I have. I take her face down and watch as she practically claws the white silk sheets to ribbons as I pound into her.
She curses and grits out my name as she climaxes and that makes me come so furiously that I see white for a second, and I might stop breathing.
When I come to, Jane is lying there, catching her breath, her dark red hair splayed out on the white pillowcase like a crimson halo.
I wrap her in my arms tightly, and she snuggles against my chest. We fall asleep that way.
***
In the morning, I wake up to a text message from Christian.
Christian: You’re playing the Anonymous Bar next Saturday night at 10pm.
I text him back a thumbs up.
This is happening. I’m taking my first steps out into the world as a solo artist.
I have to say that I thought I’d feel more excited. Instead, I just feel a little weird. Maybe even a little guilty.
I order room service breakfast and a bottle of champagne for mimosas and we lounge around in big, fluffy bathrobes until the absolute last moment before we have to check out.
Jane and I are relatively quiet on the drive back to her place in the valley, but it’s a comfortable silence. She’s smiling and dreaming out the window, maybe pretending that she’s some young Hollywood starlet and fulfilling some sort of fantasy. It fills me with a strange sort of pride to know that I’m the one that put that grin on her face.
“What are you doing next Saturday night?”
“Nothing,” she replies. “Why?”
“I’m playing at the Anonymous Bar. Want to go?”
“Another Say Yes show? Sure.”
“No, not another Say Yes show,” I tell her. “I told our manager that I want to play a few solo shows. Just to feel it out. You know, in case.”
“You’re leaving the band?” she wonders.
“No, not…” I start. “I mean… just in case, you know?”
“No, Dylan,” she says, sounding kind of pissed. “I don’t know. I have no idea why you would want to betray your bandmates like that.”
“Jane, you know as well as anyone that you should always be able to survive on your own,” I say. “You live like that every day.”
Her face falls.
“I’m not alone by choice, Dylan,” she says quietly. “I’ve explained it a thousand times. And I don’t understand why anyone who has something like you have with your bandmates and their significant others, a family, would want to walk away from them like that.”
And we’re quiet again. This time it isn’t the pleasant kind.
When I pull up in front of her apartment, I feel like I don’t know where I stand with her.
“Thank you for this,” she says.
“Jane, do you want to see me again?” I ask, bluntly. “I can’t leave things open-ended anymore. It’s driving me crazy.”
Jane takes a long, hard look at me.
“I like you so much, Dylan,” she says. “You’re bold and fearless and gorgeous and you’re so incredibly kind and patient with me. I’m so glad that you walked into that party and now we’re here because it broke a seven year habit of wondering if you were really as amazing as I remembered you to be.”
“And am I?” I ask, kind of nervous.
“Mostly,” she answers. “Mostly you’re exactly as I remember. But then you go and do something like this.”
“Something like what?” I snap. “Look out for myself?”
“This isn’t looking out for yourself, it’s just selfish.”
“You don’t understand.”
“You keep saying that, but…”
“Yeah, I know, you think you’re not alone by choice.”
“I think,” she spits out. “Everyone in my life turned on me.”
I don’t think before I say it.
“Well, maybe there’s a reason.”
Jane looks at me like I’ve just slapped her across the face.
“Fuck you, Dylan.”
She opens the door and gets out before I’ve even put the car in park.
“Jane, I…”
“No, leave me alone,” she hisses. “Fuck off.”
25
Jane
I spent the next two days in bed. I don’t go to work or art class. Eventually, Kelvin comes over and forces me to shower and get dressed.
And the funny thing is, I barely cry about it. Mostly, I just pick up the coffee pot that he bought me and contemplate smashing it.
“Do you think you can forgive him?” Kelvin asks.
“I don’t know,” I answer.
“Dean says he’s been miserable since you fought. He’s trying to get ahold of you to apologize. He knows what he said was awful.”
“Yeah. But he still said it.”
“I don’t think he knew what it would mean to you.”
“So you’re on his side now?” I snap.
“Jane, you were happy with Dylan. He was happy with you. And now you’re both alone and miserable. You owe it to yourselves to see if you can work through it.”
I shake my head.
“Don’t tell me that I don’t understand,” Kelvin adds.
“Wasn’t going to.”
“You looked like you were about to.”
“Well, I wasn’t.”
I plop myself down on the sofa. Kelvin sits next to me and lets me lean against him. I feel like he’s expecting me to cry, but I won’t.
“I keep waiting for the day when you leave me too,” I confess meekly.
Kelvin pulls me into a hug that’s more of a vice grip.
“You couldn’t lose me if you tried,” he whispers in my ear. “You didn’t lose me in the accident. You couldn’t leave me behind when you left Ireland. And I’m not going anywhere now.”
“I believe you.”
He holds me for a few minutes before loosening his grip.
“Bottom line,” he says. “What would it take for you to forgive Dylan?”
“I don’t know,” I mumble. “Some on-his-knees type stuff.”
“Dirty Jane.”
“Not what I meant. I could forgive him if he apologized, and I really knew that he was sorry. Like he understood why that hurts me so much.”
Kelvin murmurs his agreement and nods.
***
I’m a bundle of nerves as I knock on Nikki’s door, baby shower gift in hand.
Nikki lets me in and wraps her arms around me.
“Jane,” she exclaims, “you’re here.”
She sounds a little tipsy, but happy to see me nonetheless.
“Come on, let’s get you a drink.”
I look around at the pink and blue decorations. It’s a small party, to my relief, and I actually know most of the people there. Nikki bounds into the kitchen and finds me a bottle of cider, which I take gratefully.
Together we find Cora, who is sitting on a leather armchair like it’s her throne. She’s so insanely beautiful and the little baby bump kind of adds to it.
“Don’t get up,” I tell her. “I’ll come to you.”
She laughs as I lean down to hug her.
“Thank you for coming,” she says.
“Happy to.”
She’s all bright and smiling, but she’s looking at me like she’s trying to figure out a puzzle.
“Something wrong?” I wonder. “Something in my teeth?”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I’m just… I can’t believe you’re the famous Jane.”
“I’m sure it’s quite underwhelming…”
“No, not at all. You… you’re just kind of the one that inspired it all. The song that launched their careers. And the video that launched mine,” she says, still sounding a little amazed.
“And here all I had to do was sleep with a rock star,” I joke. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
She laughs.
I feel kind of terrible Should I tell her that Dylan is planning a solo show? I mean, she and her
friends are so sweet. They deserve to know what’s going on with the band.
But is that betraying Dylan?
Should I even be worried about that?
“Jane, you look like you’re upset,” she says gently. “Everything okay?”
I’ve never been good at hiding my emotions.
“Yeah. Everything’s fine,” I lie.“So you’re an actress?”
A few hours, and a few hard ciders later, I’ve had a lovely time with some wonderful people, and Julia is driving me home. She lives in Sherman Oaks, so she’s not far from me.
“I’m glad you’re with Dylan,” Julia says.
I look over at her and raise an eyebrow. That seemed like it was out of nowhere.
“I mean, I worry about him. You know, Ian, Shawn and Jack all went to high school together. They’d known each other for years before Dylan came to the band.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah. Sometimes, it can get a little like three against one,” she says, “and now that the three of them are in relationships, it’s like six against one.”
“Oh.”
I didn’t know that Dylan has kind of always been the odd man out in his own band.
“He’s also the impatient one. The most restless,” Julia continues, “and the least trusting.”
“Is he?”
“I’ve been working pretty closely with Say Yes for the past year. I’ve gotten to know their personalities really well. And I’m sure that waiting a year to go on the international tour is probably just fine with the other guys, but it’s probably eating Dylan alive.”
I sigh. It is. I know it too.
“I’m almost surprised he hasn’t done something rash,” she adds.
“He’s playing a solo show at the Anonymous Bar next Saturday,” I blurt out.
“What?”
Fuck. I don’t know if I just fucked up everything telling Julia.
I say nothing, but she definitely heard me.
“Dylan’s playing a solo show?” she asks.
I nod.
“Whoa.”
“Yeah,” I sigh.
“Is he thinking of leaving the band?” she asks, carefully.