The Rockstar's Virgin

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The Rockstar's Virgin Page 11

by M. S. Parker


  Hazel wasn't as enthusiastic about the kiss as me. She was clearly still waking up and nestled back on her side the moment I let her go.

  “For what it's worth,” she said, tracing a finger down my sternum. “I still want to know what's bothering you. The sex last night was only a temporary distraction.”

  “You're worse than the Spanish Inquisition,” I muttered.

  I felt her smile against my skin. “You have no idea. Once I get an idea in my head, I can't be stopped.”

  I cocked a brow. “Like the time you got the idea that you weren't going to have sex with me?”

  “That was different.” She poked me again. “And you're still deflecting. I wasn't born yesterday. What's going on with your brother?”

  I sighed, but not because I didn't want to tell her. I sighed because I wanted to tell her. I was resigning myself to the fact that she'd look at me differently after this. And I wouldn't blame her for it.

  “He's in rehab. Heroine this time, I think, but he dabbles in just about anything that can make a man feel immortal, so it's always hard to tell.” I looked up at the ceiling, unable to stand the emotion flooding Hazel's gaze. “Drugs have never been a problem for me. I was first introduced to them when we started touring back in the band's infancy. Nothing crazy at first. A bit of cocaine here and there, some ecstasy, some pot. And it was fun. My brother and I came from a small town where nothing ever happened, so taking a psychedelic tour of the country was like living in a fantasyland.”

  I was coming to the hard part and stopped to gather my thoughts. Hazel squeezed me, like she was imparting some of her strength onto me. I kissed her hair in appreciation.

  Finally, I sighed and went on. “My brother was part of my road crew, and I originally got him into the drugs with me because I wanted him to go on the same journey. I wanted us to celebrate getting out of that backwater shithole where we'd feared we would stay until we died. But...”

  I looked down at Hazel, who was staring up at me with wide, understanding eyes.

  “But things got out of hand. Dave had a more addictive personality than me, and soon he was partying twenty-four hours a day, slinging back whatever he could that would keep him high. I didn't see it until it was too late.”

  “What happened?”

  I stared back up at the ceiling and rubbed Hazel's velvety back while I spoke. “The only thing I could do was cut him off money-wise and try to get him some help,” I explained. “But Dave didn't understand that I was trying to help him. He thought I was letting the fame get to my head, that I was choosing to be a rock star over being his brother. And while that wasn't the case, I still failed him, you know? I always promised that I'd get him out of that shitty town, and we'd do great things together, but he went off the rails, and I continued on my journey alone.”

  A silence lengthened between us. I didn't know if Hazel was waiting for me to say more or if she was just stunned into silence. I was exhausted from saying as much as I had, like I'd physically dismantled and unloaded a megaton weight on my chest.

  “So, he's still in rehab?” Hazel asked.

  “He goes in and out. Right now, they want to do some kind of family therapy. The counselor said he thought it would help, but I...” I wrinkled my nose. “I'm not sure I could face him. I know I should. I could just cancel one of the tour dates, which wouldn't be ideal but it's doable. But even if I did, I feel so fucking guilty for everything. I don't know what I'd do. What I'd say.”

  Hazel shifted on the bed, pulling herself up until she was staring down at me. I thought I would see disgust in her eyes. I should've seen disgust in her eyes. But instead, they were wide with compassion, and that surprised me.

  “I'm sorry about your brother,” she said. “It can't be easy holding that on your conscience all the time. And I don't think you should.”

  I smiled tightly at her. What did she know?

  “And I can't imagine how hard it is to be two people.” Hazel brushed her lips over mine and then slid back down against my side. “I often wonder where Sean ends and the Rock Star begins.”

  I let out a burst of air from my nose. “I wish I could tell you, but I'm not even sure myself.”

  I stretched over the side of the bed, fumbling with my jeans to find my phone. Hazel groaned in complaint, which made me laugh. I checked the time. Still pretty early, but we had soundcheck in a couple hours. I needed to get back to my trailer and get a shower.

  “Alright, baby, I've gotta head.” I kissed her hair. “Make sure to come get some good shots of us rehearsing.”

  “It's what I do.”

  I got dressed and headed out of her trailer, smiling as the sun hit my face.

  Thirty-One

  Hazel

  I fell right back asleep as soon as Sean left. One of the great things about having to stay up so late to take photos was that I couldn't reasonably be expected to emerge from my cocoon of blankets before noon. And if Brad wanted to fight me on it, let the greasy monkey try.

  When I did finally wake up for good, I stayed curled up in my blankets for longer than necessary based almost entirely on the fact that they still smelled like Sean. His earthy, intoxicating scent was my own personal catnip. And it looked like I was in line for an unlimited supply of it. I hadn't gotten the impression from Sean that this was a one-time thing, nor did it seem he was bored of me now. That was good. I still worried about the consequences of handing my virginity to a reckless rock star, but I supposed at least I'd given it an adequate amount of time and thought first. We'd been on the road together long enough.

  And anyway, it had to mean something that he'd told me about his brother, right? Sean wasn't the candid type, and he'd opened up his chest for me this morning and let me peek around inside. The significance of that moment was not lost on me.

  I got ready for the day and headed into the arena. The guys were playing two nights in Louisville, and after tonight's show and after-party, we were heading straight back out on the road.

  It was hot outside and entering the air-conditioned arena was a welcome blessing. I started wandering around, taking shots of the stage and venue that I hadn't had the opportunity to do yesterday. We'd gotten here a little later than we were meant to, so it was a quick sound check, and then they were practically pushing the guys out on stage. The atmosphere was much more relaxed here today. Or maybe I was just more relaxed.

  Either way, I was excited for the day to come.

  I found a spot on the stage where I could perch and take photos without being in anybody's way. I decided to settle in for a while, see if I could get some long exposure shots of the roadies as they buzzed around like worker bees.

  “Yeah, totally,” I heard one of the guys saying as he passed. He was talking to a short guy with a shaved head rolling a stage case. “One of Sean's road sluts...”

  I could barely hear what he was saying over the general clatter of the arena, and I couldn't tell who he was talking about. I wished I knew.

  My skin prickled with nervous sweat. Were they talking about me? Surely they couldn't be talking about me, right?

  I leaned in and strained my ears, but the two roadies were way too far away for me to hear.

  I tried not to worry about it. What good would worrying do? I was here to work, so even though I wanted to chase down the two gossipers and throttle them until they told me who they were referring to, I knew I couldn't.

  I hopped down from my perch and decided to go see the band. Going into the green room they were getting ready in would give me an opportunity to see Sean without having to go in there on a social call. Plus, seeing him would make me feel better. It had to.

  I found the guys in the green room where I’d walked in on Jasmine and Sean the night before. Though the memory was anything but welcome, at least I knew that story had a happy ending.

  “Hey guys,” I said. “Say cheese.”

  Justin made a grimace. I snapped a photo of it. Alexander and Vince were playing video games in the corne
r on the gaming system they brought everywhere with them, and I got a few photos of Alexander kicking Vince's ass at Mario Kart before allowing myself to drift over to Sean.

  Snap.

  He looked up. “Don't forget to get my good side.”

  “And which side is your good side?” I asked with a quirked brow.

  He grinned. It was the Rock Star's grin. “I'm glad you asked.”

  Just as Sean began unzipping his pants, I put up a hand and yelled at him to stop. He and the other guys laughed.

  I wasn't expecting him to get up and pull me into his arms the moment I stepped into the room, but did he have to act exactly the same as he had before we slept together? Shouldn't something have changed between us? He went back to checking his phone without looking at me, and I got another picture of him before deciding I was finished here.

  “I'm going to go get some food,” I announced.

  “Kay,” said Justin.

  Alexander and Vince didn't even notice.

  Sean glanced up from his phone, then shoved it in his back pocket and started to get up. “Hang on a sec.”

  My heart jumped. He was going to come with me – thank god. I didn't think I could handle this coldness from him if it was here to stay. I just wanted to go back to the way things had been this morning, or last night when I'd fallen asleep to him rubbing circles on my back and–

  “Here you go.”

  I scowled at the piece of paper Sean had just dropped into my hand as he flopped back onto the couch.

  “What's this?” I asked.

  “Our lunch order,” Sean replied, looking back at his phone. “We were just about to call someone else in to take it, so thanks.”

  “Right.” I closed my fist around the paper. “Uh, no problem.”

  I was fighting back tears by the time I reached the door outside. There was a food truck parked amongst all the other trailers, and I joined the line, even though I didn't think I could stomach the thought of food anymore.

  What was I thinking, losing my virginity to a shark like Sean Morris? Or had I even fucked Sean Morris at all? Had it been the Rock Star this entire time and I was just too stupid to notice?

  I was mortified. Devastated.

  Maybe even a little heartbroken.

  I went through the motions of ordering lunch mechanically. Even though my stomach churned and gurgled and I didn't think I could eat anything, I ordered for myself too. It was hours until the show was due to begin, so I had some time to retreat to the comfort of my trailer and eat my lunch in peace.

  I dropped off the bag of food in the green room without sparing any of the guys a second glance. I didn't look to see if Sean was looking at me because I told myself I didn't care. It didn't matter. But I also couldn't stand the thought that he didn't notice me at all. So, I put my blinders on, dropped off the food, and got out of there as quickly as possible.

  In my trailer, the box of fries grew cold and soggy as I clicked through pages and pages of plane tickets. I was calmer now. It was good to be calm again.

  But the hollow in my chest still ached like a son of a bitch.

  Thirty-Two

  Sean

  The show was a roaring success, just like the one the night before. And I expected that the after-party would be just as crazy. Of course, I'd been absent from the after-party because I'd been occupied elsewhere.

  Just remembering how tight and wet Hazel was sent electricity straight to my cock. I was riding high on the show and couldn't wait to sink back into her delicious heat later on.

  But as the after-party crowd grew in the lot behind the arena, there was one face still notably absent. Where was Hazel? She'd been around taking photos during the show, and afterward at the meet and greet with some of the fans, but I hadn't seen her since.

  I asked Brad and a couple of the guys from the band if they'd seen her, but they hadn't. Brad said she was probably just taking the night off, which she was entitled to do every once and awhile. He made the suggestion that I would just have to find another way to feed my ego tonight other than photos of my wild antics, but I brushed him off and headed for Hazel's trailer.

  Her trailer was parked on the outskirts of the little rolling convoy we had going on, but there were still a few people milling around who recognized me and wanted to take a photo or talk. I refused them politely but firmly, steadily making my way to Hazel's door.

  I knocked and waited for her to answer, thinking how fortuitous it was that she was taking the night off. I had to show for the party later, but maybe I could get a taste of her beforehand.

  The door opened. Hazel blinked in surprise when she saw me, her mouth set in a hard frown. “What are you doing here?”

  Wasn’t it obvious? “I came to see you.”

  She stared at me blankly, and I noticed that her suitcase was sitting open on the bed behind her. She moved in front of it like she didn't want me to see but it was too late.

  “Are you packing?”

  Hazel crossed her arms and met me with the full force of her crystal gaze. “So what if I am?”

  “Why?”

  “Because I'm going home,” she replied simply. “Now could you leave me alone so I can finish packing?”

  I snorted and pushed past her into the room. “Not fucking likely. What's the problem?”

  I didn't like the way my chest squeezed with panic when she told me she was going home. And I didn't understand what had gotten into her so quickly. She was fine when I left her this morning.

  Well, I was about to find out.

  Hazel exploded on me, throwing her hands in the air as she let me have it.

  “I told you that I wanted to save myself! I told you how important that was to me. And then last night, I thought...” She growled out a noise of frustration. Well, I don't fucking know what I thought. But I cannot believe that I let you take away something so precious to me just so you could throw it in the trash.”

  I was shocked. It must've shown on my face because Hazel laughed bitterly.

  “Are you serious? You didn't see this coming? I took a huge step with you last night. I fucking trusted you! And then you go back to acting as if nothing happened. Nothing could have made it more clear to me that I don't mean a goddamn thing to you. And as mad as I am at you, I'm fucking furious at myself because I should've known better.”

  “Woah, Hazel.” I held out a hand, intending to slow her tirade. “Calm down a little. I'm sorry that you felt like that today, but who I am out there isn't the same as who I am in here. That was part of the show, baby. I have an image to maintain with everyone. It's not just the fans. I like you, Hazel.” I took a step toward her. “I have a–”

  “A show to put on?” she blasted over me. “Do you hear yourself? Get the fuck out of my trailer.”

  “No.” I crossed my arms. “Not until you listen to me.”

  “Oh, I've listened.” She stalked toward me, staring angrily up into my eyes. “And I heard you loud and clear. You like me, but only when it's convenient for you to like me. You want me, but only on your terms. I've got one thing to say to you and one thing only.” She pointed past me to the door. “Get out before I call security and have you removed.”

  I didn't think she could do that, but I was finished here anyway. I turned on my heel and stormed from the trailer, letting the door bang closed after me.

  What did I care if Hazel wanted nothing to do with me anymore? I got what I wanted from her, right? If she didn't want to get with the program, that was her problem, not mine. I'd been living this way for years. Who did she think she was to believe she could come in and change it?

  But the farther I got from Hazel's trailer, and the more I tried to convince myself that her behavior was unacceptable, and I was better off just letting it be, the less I believed it.

  And the more I felt like an asshole.

  I was used to being an asshole. Being an asshole was how I made money. But it was rare that I actually felt like one. I was usually able to compartm
entalize that part of myself. I recognized that the guy being a dick to everyone wasn't me.

  But this, this felt like it was all on me. I was the very definition of an asshole. I wasn't just playing one on stage.

  Thirty-Three

  Hazel

  I should've booked the tickets first, but, I felt it'd be more cathartic to do all the packing before I actually did the leaving. That way, when I booked my ticket, there would be no going back. No time for thinking. All my bags would be packed, and all I'd have to do is call a cab and get my ass to the airport. Then I'd be back home, where things made sense and didn't hurt.

  Thankfully, I could afford the ticket home. I hated the idea of having to call Cora and ask for the money, especially since she'd probably try to talk me out of it. But I hadn't changed my mind while packing away my belongings. I only had one more thing to do, and I'd be on my way.

  Brad was in his trailer, which was where he normally spent his evenings while the after-party raged around him. He wasn't much of a partier. He was a hard worker, and I respected him for it. Even now, while people were hooting and hollering all around the back lot, and beautiful women of every kind were waltzing around in booty shorts and crop tops, I found Brad hunkered down over a pile of paperwork on his desk.

  “What is it?” he asked, peering at me through his glasses.

  I looked past him to see his laptop open on his desk and a pile of paperwork on either side. He was busy, but I knew I couldn't just leave without saying anything.

  “Can I speak to you for a minute?” I asked. “It won't take long.”

  Brad sighed and opened the door wider to allow me in. He closed the door behind me, then slipped the glasses off his nose and rested them on the desk. He didn't offer me a seat, but I wasn't planning on staying.

  “What is it?”

 

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