“What do you need, Van?” she asked me, her voice hard.
I waited a few seconds before I answered her, my gaze locked onto her blue eyes, never breaking eye contact. I knew I was making her nervous. I could see her chest start to rise and fall more rapidly. I could have said a million things in that moment, and I had a feeling she was expecting more than what came out of my mouth.
“I’d love a bottle of water. I’m feeling a little parched. Is it warm in here?”
She shook her head, but she didn’t say anything.
“It feels warm to me,” I said, shrugging slightly as I took half a step toward her.
She looked up and met my gaze, her expression softening just a touch. I was making progress. Then I shifted my eyes down to look at the tour t-shirt that stretched across her chest in a way that made me think very naughty things.
When I lifted my eyes again, I said, “Nice shirt.”
And that was it. Her eyes narrowed, and within two breaths I realized my mistake. She was nothing like the girls I usually flirted with, and I was out of practice with what it was like to be around her. I’d pulled out one of my tricks that would have worked on any other girl, but I should have known it would never work on her. Elisa was too classy for that. I was an idiot.
“Go in the tent. I’ll bring you a bottle of water,” she said firmly, that hardened look back in place.
Fuck.
“Thanks,” I muttered in defeat, my shoulders slumping as she turned away from me.
Involuntarily, and probably because I was a glutton for punishment, my gaze shifted to her ass that was sheathed in a pair of skinny jeans that fit her perfectly. I sighed loudly, frustrated with myself that I’d pushed her. I’d been commending myself for being able read her and for knowing her so well, and because of that I’d gotten cocky. I knew what would piss her off, and I’d gone and done it without thinking. I was a fucking moron.
With a frustrated sigh, I turned and walked toward the tent to join my bandmates.
“Where were you?” Cam asked me.
“Getting fucked three ways from Sunday,” I said in irritation. “And not in a good way.”
“What?” he asked, having no clue what I was talking about.
“Elisa,” I muttered, glancing out of the small opening in the tent to where she was standing with my bottle of water in her hand, talking and laughing with one of the other PR people.
They got her smile, and I got her scowl. That bothered the shit out of me.
“Elisa? Really?” Cam questioned.
“You weren’t there last night,” Phillip said, leaning around Dillon so he could see us. “Van was distracted all night. He kept looking over the balcony and wishing he could turn back time and not have cheated on Elisa two years ago.”
I reached out and shoved him. “Screw you,” I hissed, because I knew there were fans nearby waiting to meet us. I didn’t want them to overhear our conversation.
Part of our agreement as members of Westside was remaining upstanding and respectable in the eyes of our fans. We could be normal guys to an extent, but there were some things that were off-limits. Cheating scandals, sex tapes, drug additions and the like were never favored. Our PR team was awesome, though, and they had ways to keep most things hidden, but we also had to do our part to stay out of trouble as much as we could and not make their jobs harder.
I was lucky that they’d buried my sex tape before it had the chance to go public, so our fans had never known about my transgressions. The only reason Elisa found out is because she had friends on our PR team who’d told her about it. I’d been pissed at the time, and I’d asked Katherine to fire the person who’d leaked the information. She’d refused, telling me that if I hadn’t wanted anyone to find out, I probably shouldn’t have slept with a stripper. It took me a long time to realize that she was right.
Phillip laughed at my irritation with Dillon. “It’s true, man. You about went over the railing when you saw her leave with that other guy. It was a little pathetic.”
“Fuck you,” I hissed. “She looked hot.”
It was a sad ploy on my part playing it off like I was only interested in Elisa because she was hot. It was so much more than that, but I felt the need to maintain a shred of my dignity in front of my friends. I’d been livid the night before when she’d left the club with that surfer.
I turned back to where Elisa was still standing, even more irritated that she still had my damn water in her hand and hadn’t brought it over to me. I was desperate for another interaction with her, and I was kind of thirsty, but either way, I didn’t like being ignored – especially by her.
“Jealousy’s not a look we see on your face very often,” Dillon chimed in. “But I get it.”
“I’m not jealous,” I snapped at him, knowing I was absolutely fucking jealous. I’d just never admit it out loud.
“Right,” Phillip said, shaking his head.
“Okay, guys, everyone ready?” one of the PR girls asked us. I think her name was Holly.
“We’re ready,” Cam assured her as the four of us straightened up and prepared to meet our first fans.
As three girls who looked to be about sixteen came into our part of the tent, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Elisa hand my bottle of water to Holly. I looked up at her, but she just subtly jerked her head toward the three fans to get me to pay attention to them. Knowing it was what I got paid to do, I turned and smiled at them, but all the while my mind was on Elisa. I knew she’d strategically waited until I was occupied to bring my water over. Did she really hate interacting with me that much?
I sighed internally, wondering how long it would take for her to let me in again. It was going to be a long seven months if she kept this shit up, but I was willing to do whatever I could to break down her walls. I had to. It was like I couldn’t focus on anything else until I figured out what exactly she wanted from me. I didn’t want her to hate me. I couldn’t stomach that. Yes, I’d made a mistake, and it had been fairly epic, but it was a mistake. I’d take it back if I could, but that wasn’t going to happen. Forgiveness was my only option, and I wasn’t going to stop until I got it.
It was funny how for two years, although I regretted what I’d done, the severity of it hadn’t truly resonated with me until I realized what I’d lost. And now that I knew, I was going to fight like hell to get it back.
Chapter Five
Elisa
“Come on. Just come for five minutes,” Keri begged me.
“I’m good,” I assured her from where I sat on the couch on our bus reading a book.
We were parked a few rows down from the Westside bus, and I was glad for the distance. I’d spent the last five days doing what I could to avoid Van, who kept trying to talk to me. It was starting to get exhausting constantly trying to dodge him, but I held firm that I had nothing to say to him.
For some reason he kept trying to seek me out, though, and knowing how resourceful he was, I wouldn’t put it past him to stop by our bus to try to corner me. I had no idea what he wanted to talk about, and I kept telling myself I didn’t care. That wasn’t the full truth, but I also wasn’t going to let myself cave.
I’d almost done that the first night of the tour, and I’d never been gladder that he’d broken whatever spell had come over me when I’d looked into his blue eyes. It was like they sucked me right back in, and I knew I could have gotten lost there had he not jerked me back to reality with that pig-headed comment about my chest.
I knew what a player he was, and I was sure that line worked on the girls who normally fell into his bed, but I wasn’t a girl who got all giggly when a guy complemented my breasts. I wasn’t that shallow.
Fortunately, the guys from Westside were out for the night, so I knew there wasn’t a chance Van was going to stop by. We were in Salt Lake City, and a local radio station was hosting an after-show party. That happened in a lot of cities, and as the most senior members of the PR team on tour, Brent and I were usually in charg
e. I’d been at the last three parties, including the kick-off party in L.A., so he’d given me the night off. The Westside guys would have to stay the whole night and schmooze.
Keri wanted me to go to the party with her, but I was content on having a quiet night in. I hadn’t had one since the tour began. If we didn’t have a show, we were traveling, or there was just chaos on the bus I was sharing with five other people. I missed my alone time. It was the one downside of being on tour, but I’d take it because of all the other things I loved about the experience. It was also why I was willing to put up with Van.
“Okay, I’m heading out. Be back in a few hours,” Keri said, leaning down to kiss my cheek.
“Have fun,” I told her.
When she was gone, I stretched out on the couch, grateful for the room and the silence as I got lost in my book. After thirty minutes, I was contemplating going to bed early when there was a knock on the bus door. I figured it was probably one of the roadies with a question about the set-up for the next night when we’d be in Tucson. Back-to-back shows were always tough, and most weekends we did three in a row.
I knew the crew was heading out as soon as they got the stage broken down and loaded. The rest of us were leaving after the party and would meet them in Tucson in the morning. By the time I’d get to the arena, they’d already be deep into their set-up, including the meet and greet tent. With differences in every venue we played, there were always things the roadies needed to run by me before they erected the space. Once it was up, my team would take charge of decorating it, like we did every night, making sure everything was perfect for the fans.
So with that in mind, I went to the door and opened it without thinking. It was not one of the roadies. It was actually the last person I wanted to see, and because he’d caught me off-guard, I stopped short when I saw him, pissed that I hadn’t been more vigilant.
“Hey Lis,” Van said casually as he leaned against the bus just outside the door.
I bit back how it made me feel to hear him use his nickname for me. Only he’d ever called me that, and it brought me back to what it was like when we were together – waking up next to him, seeing him smile at me and watching him perform. I hadn’t watched a single show since I’d been on tour with Westside. I had the ability to stand off-stage each night and watch their performance, but I’d refrained and instead opted to head back to the bus or to the hotel, if we were lucky enough to be staying in one.
But back when were together, it had been a heady thing to stand just feet from the action and watch Van charm the audience. His voice was incredible, and the shy charisma he was so good at harnessing showed through in every move he made. But it was more than that. For me, it was the knowledge that when he glanced off-stage in my direction, every girl screaming his name wasn’t even a consideration to him. He only wanted me.
Well, me and the trashy stripper he’d fallen into bed with.
And all the other girls he’d been with while we’d been non-exclusively together.
That was pretty much all I needed to come back down to earth. “Aren’t you supposed to be at the party?” I asked him tersely.
“Aren’t you?”
“I have the night off. What’s your excuse?”
I knew I was being a bitch, but I didn’t care. Van wasn’t getting any politeness from me if I could help it. He didn’t deserve it.
“I said I didn’t feel well. I got a pass.”
“Well, aren’t you clever.”
He shrugged. “I try. Especially when I want something,” he said pointedly. “Then I try even harder.”
I didn’t even want to begin to try to decipher what he was talking about. I wasn’t interested in playing his games.
“Good for you,” I said, and I started to close the door on him.
He stuck his hand out to stop me, and considering he was stronger, I lost. I sighed and dropped my hand, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what I want?” he asked.
“No,” I said firmly, making him laugh.
Of course that only incensed me further.
“Come on, Lis, you know you want to know.”
“Not really,” I said, pushing as much sarcasm into my tone as I could.
“Just ask me.”
That time I didn’t answer. I just glared at him.
He grinned. “Come on, ask me. Ask me. Ask me. Ask me. Ask m–”
“Fine!” I said, knowing he wouldn’t stop. Van could be relentless when he wanted to be and incorrigible until he got his way. He’d repeat those two words until I wanted to scream. Hell, I was already halfway there. “What do you want?!”
Then it was like something suddenly shifted and the cocky guy who’d knocked on my door melted away and was replaced by someone else.
“I want the same thing I’ve wanted for the past week,” Van said softly, sounding so serious. “I want to talk to you.”
“About what?” I asked around a sigh, doing my best not to give in to how sincere he sounded. “You keep saying that you want to talk, but like I’ve said half a dozen times, I have nothing to say to you.”
“I know, and I get it,” he said quickly. “It’s just, I have things I’d like to say to you, and you blowing me off and acting like we don’t have history isn’t going to change that. I just want a chance to say what’s on my mind, Lis.”
I wish he’d stop saying my name like that. It was messing with my head.
I shook my head. “Van, what could you possibly have to say? That you’re sorry? That you wish you could take back what happened between us? Because if that’s it, don’t bother. It was two years ago. It’s over and done with.”
“But it’s not,” he said, cocking his head to the side in thought. “The way we left things. I just – I don’t like that you’re still pissed at me.”
I felt my eyebrows rise. “Is that what you think? That I’m pissed at you?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. I guess. I mean, you won’t talk to me.”
“I’m not pissed at you,” I assured him, because it was the truth.
“You’re not?”
“No.”
“Then why do you keep brushing me off?”
I sighed, not wanting to have this conversation. It was exactly why I’d been avoiding him for the past week.
“Why does it matter?”
I held my breath as I waited for him to say something about easing his guilty conscious or something equally self-centered. It was so consistent with the guy he’d become, the guy I’d seen in action over the past week, that I didn’t expect anything else. He wasn’t the same guy I’d fallen for three years ago – not at all.
“Because I know how bad I hurt you, and I need you to know that I realize what an asshole I was. I’m so sorry, Lis. I want to make it up to you, and I want us to be friends.”
“Friends?” I questioned, almost choking on the word. “Are you joking?”
He shook his head. “No, I’m not joking. I’m serious.”
“Why would you ever think I’d want to be friends with you?”
Damn, why did his gaze have to be so intense? It was like he had a million emotions behind those blue eyes, and I hated that I was even a little curious about what he was thinking. I didn’t want to care about him. I wanted to be indifferent, but as I’d learned, indifference wasn’t something I was capable of when it came to Van Salvatore.
“I don’t actually think you want to be friends with me,” he said, sounding so completely honest that it unsettled me. “That’s the problem. But I’m hoping you might change your mind – in time.”
“Van, I don’t like you,” I blurted out, feeling sort of liberated to say the words out loud.
If I was looking for a reaction when I said that, I realized quickly that I wasn’t going to get one. Van’s face remained placid. I’d expected him to look surprised, but it seemed like he’d almost expected me to say what I had, like he was resigned to the fact that I really didn’t like
him. At the same time, though, if I looked close enough, I could see the smallest hint of hurt in his eyes at hearing the truth confirmed.
“I know,” he said around a sigh. “I see how you look at me. I know what you think of me, and regardless of whether your feelings are justified or not, at the end of the day, it still sucks. I wish I could change how you feel, but I’m not sure I can. All I can do is tell you that I’m not a bad guy, Lis. I made a huge mistake, and I’m so sorry for what I did. I’m not the same guy I was back then.”
Damn, he was so good at that. He was a master of subtly pulling me in, little by little, before I even realized he was having an effect on me. Then suddenly I was halfway in his clutches, his sweet, sensitive side that I’d always loved, tugging me toward him. But as much as he was saying he’d changed in the last few years, I’d changed too. I wasn’t the same naïve girl I’d once been. I could see through his ploys to prove what a great guy he was – because I knew it was all a lie.
I laughed non-humorously, catching him by surprise. “If you’re going to say something like that, Van, you’d better have the proof to back it up.”
“What do you mean?” he asked, sounding hurt by my accusation.
“I’ve been around you for a week. I’ve seen you flirting with different girls every night, and I know you have a girlfriend back home. I’d be careful claiming that you’re not the same guy anymore when you can’t even stay faithful for a week.”
He sucked in a breath, his expression hardening. “Blair and I aren’t serious. She’s not my girlfriend,” he firmly. “And for the record, I haven’t been with anyone since the tour started. I flirt because it’s my job to be fun, and when fans flirt with me, it’s polite to flirt back a little. It’s harmless. Not that I have to justify myself to you, but that’s the truth.”
“You don’t have to justify yourself to me,” I said, folding my arms over my chest, feeling vindicated in the fact that I hadn’t let him get to me – not really. “You don’t have to justify anything. Flirt your heart out, sleep with whomever you want, make as many sex tapes as you want. I don’t care.”
Westside Series Box Set Page 47