“What’s the great news?” I asked him politely.
He grinned. “You’re my escort for the night.”
“Why does that sound dirty when you say it?”
He shrugged. “I’ve got a dirty mind when it comes to you.”
I sighed, feeling a headache coming on. He was so good at making me feelings things down to my toes with just a few simple words. And for the first time since I’d seen him again, a part of me wanted to flirt back with him, to make a comment that would take him by surprise and make him wonder what I was thinking, but I knew I couldn’t do that. Now more than ever, I had to keep things above board.
“Right. Good to know,” I told him. “Word of advice, you might want to turn that off since you have to go entertain a bunch of teenagers in a few minutes.”
“I’m not sure that’s going to be so easy,” he said coyly. “I’ll be thinking about you the whole time.”
God, I wished he didn’t have the ability to make me feel all melty inside when he said things like that. It was borderline torture to hear that when I couldn’t do anything about it.
“Van, stop. Seriously.”
He crossed his arm over his chest defiantly. “No,” he said in a teasing sort of way, but I could also hear a level of seriousness in his tone.
“Please,” I begged, changing tactics.
“No,” he repeated. “I spent the last week thinking you were with someone else and that I’d lost my chance. When I heard that wasn’t true, I saw my second chance staring me in the face. Well, actually it was my third chance, because you already blew me off when I tried to use my second chance. So I’m sort of hoping you’re the kind of person who gives lots of chances – at least where I’m concerned.”
The corner of his mouth turned up just enough to endear me to him completely in that moment, which was such a bad thing. Dammit. Why did he have to choose right then to be genuine and vulnerable and completely honest? Suddenly, he was the Van I’d fallen for years ago – sweet, kind, unaffected by fame, and unfailingly caring. Somewhere along the way that part of his personality had faded, and he’d turned into a cocky, overly confident, semi-asshole, and that’s who I’d gotten to experience for the first month of the tour, but now, right when I’d just been warned that I needed to keep things professional, he had to go and pour his heart out. And it was completely affecting me. I wished his words meant nothing to me, but unfortunately that was no longer the case.
He was Van after all – the guy who’d broken my heart without a second thought, but he was also the only guy I’d ever loved, even if I’d never told him that. I’d been afraid to tell him, because I was fearful that he didn’t feel the same way, but I’d loved him. That was why it had hurt so bad when he slept with someone else. Now, as he stood before me, he was that guy again, and my heart remembered all too well what it was like to be in love with him.
And he wanted to be with me – or so it seemed. He’d been flirting with me since the start of the tour. He’d sought me out day after day, he’d unabashedly made a fool of himself time and again, and he’d made me take back every promise I’d ever made to myself where he was concerned. And he’d just told me he wanted another chance.
With the way he was looking at me, I felt my resolve crumbling, and I was powerless to stop it. But then, almost out of the blue, I remembered one important fact. Van had a girlfriend – a girlfriend he’d just taken to Mexico the week before. He might have poured his heart out to me, but how much of what he’d said could he really have meant when Blair Thomas was still in the picture.
I hadn’t even thought about her until now. I’d been so fixated on my feelings for Van, but something in the way he was looking at me had triggered a memory of a picture I’d seen of him and Blair from when they’d arrived in Mexico. He was with Blair.
I suddenly realized how stupid I was. It was so obvious. Blair wasn’t around, and Van was lonely. That was it. He missed his girlfriend, and I was conveniently nearby, so he flirted with me. It was complete bullshit, but it hardened my resolve enough to vanquish all feelings of love that he might have rekindled with his words. He was so full of shit, and I was beyond irritated that he thought he could play with my emotions like that. How dare he?
“Really?” I spat back. “Did Blair know you were supposedly thinking about me when you were with her all last week?”
Van sucked in breath, looking taken aback that I knew he’d gone to Mexico with his girlfriend. He blinked a few times, but he didn’t say anything.
“I’m on your PR team, Van,” I snapped. “I get daily updates on you guys. I basically had a front row seat to the slideshow of your vacation south of the border.”
I saw something shift in his eyes as I said that, the openness he’d displayed when he told me he wanted another chance fading away before my eyes. Suddenly the cocky asshole was back.
“Oh, yeah? Was it a good show? I imagine I was shirtless in most of the pictures,” he said playfully, flexing his triceps just enough for me to be disgusted with him.
At least he was making it easy for me not to flirt with him.
I hardened my gaze. “You have to be on-stage in five minutes. We need to go upstairs.”
I wasn’t dignifying his question with a response. He didn’t deserve that.
“Elisa, I was kidding,” he said quickly, staring at my tight expression in disbelief.
“About what? About being with Blair or the show you two put on?”
“I–” he started to say, but he didn’t finish his sentence. It seemed he was at a loss for words, and for that I was grateful.
“That’s what I thought,” I said coolly. “We need to go upstairs.”
Van stared at me in confusion. “Fine, lead the way. We’ll continue this conversation later.”
No, we won’t.
“I have plans with Jamie later,” I said, tossing it out there just to be spiteful.
It was a complete lie, but it was worth it to see Van falter enough to let me know my words affected him. And I knew now that it wasn’t because he wanted to be with me. It was because he wanted something he couldn’t have. Jamie was standing in his way of flirting me into his bed, and I was sure that pissed him off. Well, screw him. I wasn’t going to sleep with him now anyway. I’d made that mistake before in thinking I meant more to him than I really did. I wouldn’t make it again.
With that knowledge in tow, I turned and headed toward the stairs that led to the roof.
“I thought he was just a friend,” Van questioned as he trailed behind me. “You said he was just a friend.”
All the cockiness that had been in his voice two minutes earlier was gone.
“He is . . . for now,” I said, pushing as much aloofness into my voice as I could. I knew it was going to drive him crazy, and the spiteful part of me really wanted to do that.
“What does that mean?”
I didn’t answer him.
“Elisa? What does that mean?” he asked, sounding desperate enough to make me smile to myself. Now he knew how I felt.
When we reached the top of the stairs, I finally turned and looked at him. “I’m going to head out to the party. Go get your mic on. Brent will tell you guys when to head out to the stage.”
For several seconds, Van looked shocked that I was blowing him off without giving him what he wanted. Then he narrowed his eyes. “Fine,” he said tightly.
“See you after your performance,” I said cheerfully, but with enough hardness in my tone that he knew I wasn’t anywhere near as happy as I seemed.
As I turned to leave, he grabbed my arm and yanked hard enough that I had to turn to face him. When I looked up into his blue eyes, I was shocked to see pain there.
“I’m not with Blair,” he said firmly. “And I meant what I said.”
“No, you didn’t,” I said, yanking my arm out of his grip. “I’m not that dumb.”
He didn’t say anything else as I turned away from him and headed out to the roof where ninety
-some eager girls and a handful of guys were crammed around the stage, waiting for Westside to come out.
The second I’d achieved the separation I’d been craving for the past few minutes, I let Van’s words wash over me. I had no idea what was real and what was perceived anymore. A part of me felt satisfied that I’d stood up for myself, for how I’d protected my heart, but another part of me hated that I’d hurt him. And after seeing the look on his face, I knew I’d hurt him.
I’m not with Blair.
I meant what I said.
He’d looked sincere, almost desperate, as if he’d wanted me to believe him so badly as he’d said those words that we both knew changed everything. If he wasn’t with Blair, and if he really wanted to be with me, I had no reason to keep pushing him away.
Yet, I was still hesitating, still afraid to take a chance, and as I replayed the last few minutes in my mind, I knew exactly why. Van had opened up to me. He’d told me something real and honest, and I was afraid of what that meant in the grand scheme of things. So I’d found the first thing I could to put him back in the place where I thought he belonged – at arm’s length, where he couldn’t lure me into something that might end up hurting me.
So many emotions were coursing through me as I fought the urge to give in to what I wanted, consequences be dammed. There was so much at stake – my heart, my job, my sanity – but there was also the guy I’d gotten a glimpse of a few minutes earlier, and I knew he trumped everything else.
The lights around the roof suddenly went out, and the crowd was silent as smoke started to pour in from the path the guys would run out on. There was a commotion from that direction, and as the audience started to realize what was happening, they went nuts. When the lights came back on, Westside was on stage, mics in hand.
Dillon started to talk to the crowd, but I didn’t really hear what he was saying. My eyes were on Van, but he didn’t look in my direction. I wondered if he knew I was standing there, and that was why he was averting his eyes, or if he was just trying to stay in character. A part of me wanted him to look at me, just for a second, because I wanted to smile. I wanted to let him know I was sorry, but I had a feeling I wasn’t going to get that chance. I’d been a bitch to him earlier, and I’d hurt him.
The band launched into Last Night one of their most popular acoustic songs from their first album, one that I loved because Van’s voice rang out so clear during his solo, and it reminded me so much of when we were dating. It made my chest ache enough to know that he’d never lost the hold he’d had on me. I felt the same in that moment as I had years earlier when I used to watch him perform from backstage.
I knew then that what I’d felt for him had never gone away. It was always there, looming in the background, regardless of how much I’d hated him. I’d always felt more for him, and as I watched him singing so beautifully on that rooftop stage, I knew exactly what I wanted.
The risk of getting hurt was always going to be there. I’d always be afraid in some way, but I also knew that if I didn’t take a chance, I might be missing out on something great. If Van truly had changed, then the guy he’d become was someone I wanted to get to know. After everything we’d been through, I figured I at least owed myself that.
Chapter Twelve
Van
“Do you need anything to drink?” Elisa asked me.
We were halfway thought the launch party, and she’d already pierced my heart with her simple words half a dozen times. Pretty much anything she said made me fall apart inside. I couldn’t even make eye contact with her. Instead I’d kept my gaze on the party, answering her as briefly as I could when she asked me if I needed anything throughout the night.
I was fine. I wasn’t thirsty, I wasn’t hungry, and I just needed to get through the party so I could go back to my hotel room and figure out how in the hell I was going to get through the next six months with her being so close, yet so untouchable.
If she wanted to be with Jamie, fine. But I was backing off. I wasn’t going to push her anymore. I wasn’t going to flirt, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to put my heart out there to be stomped on. She’d made her point, and it had been loud and clear.
I was just pissed that I’d read the situation so wrong. After everything that had transpired in the past few days, I’d been under the impression that we’d turned a corner. Jamie was just a friend, Elisa had stopped pushing me away, she was actually being sweet to me, and after a disastrous trip to Mexico, I could safely say that Blair and I were officially over. Everything was pointing toward Elisa and me finally being on the same page and me finally getting what I’d wanted for too long.
Or so I’d thought. How the hell had I read the signs so wrong?
“I’m fine,” I said tightly, still refusing to look at her.
I’d found some seating that wrapped around one corner of the roof, and I’d been there all night, with Elisa sitting way too close for my liking. If I couldn’t have her, I didn’t want to be around her.
“Okay, just let me know if you need anything,” she said sweetly, and I knew she was only doing it because there were fans all around. It wasn’t like she could slay me when they were in earshot – which was probably a good thing. I felt filleted enough from her earlier torture.
“How much longer do we have to do this?” I asked her under my breath a few minutes later after two girls had left to go find Dillon.
It was the first time in hours that I felt like I could breathe. I wasn’t a fan of crowds and people getting too close, so things like this were always a test of my patience. I tried to tell myself that I should be grateful to our fans for being so dedicated, but it wasn’t always easy to be tolerant of their incessant need to touch me. I liked my personal space.
“We’ll wrap up in about twenty minutes,” Elisa told me.
“Great,” I said, sliding my hand to the back of my neck as I leaned my head forward to stretch my muscles.
“Do you feel okay?” she asked me.
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure?”
Geez, why did she even care?
“My neck feels stiff ,” I told her flatly. “Can I go outside for a few minutes?”
“We are outside,” she said, and out of the corner of my eye I saw her looking at me skeptically.
“I know. But I mean, outside, away from the party and the noise and the people.”
Elisa caught me off-guard when she patted my knee with her hand. I hadn’t expected her to touch me, and I flinched, making her pull her hand away.
I saw her shoulders slump. “I’m sorry, Van.”
“For what?” I asked, acting like I didn’t know exactly what she was talking about.
“For earlier,” she said softly, since two more fans were approaching.
“Hey, no sweat,” I told her as I sat up straighter and forced a content look onto my face. “I was actually only half-serious with what I said anyway.”
It was total self-preservation and a complete lie, but I wasn’t sure what else to do. I felt an overly pressing urge to save face in some small way. I’d already made an ass out of myself too many times where she was concerned.
“Which part?” she questioned.
I shrugged. “All of it.”
“Oh,” she said, sounding wounded.
I hated to admit that it gave me a modicum of joy to know she was feeling even a portion of what I was feeling.
“Yup,” I said as I directed my attention to the fans, hoping we’d never revisit this conversation. I was fine burying it in the past where it belonged.
Twenty minutes later, Brent announced that the party was over and thanked everyone for coming. He told them to go back to their hotel and rest up for the concert the next night, which would be epic. The fans went nuts, and Elisa told me to stand up.
“Come on,” she said, indicating that I should follow her. “Smile and wave as you leave.”
“Okay,” I said, doing what she asked as I followed her out of the party. Ar
ound the roof, I saw my bandmates doing the same thing.
I heard some of the fans calling my name, so I forced my smile even wider and threw a wave over my shoulder before the four of us were ushered downstairs.
“Great job tonight, guys,” Katherine said when we met her in the room where we’d done the signing. “We couldn’t have asked for a better event.” She turned to Elisa. “Thanks go to you and Brent and your team for a job well done.”
“Thank you,” Elisa said softly, but I saw her cheeks color just enough to know that she was more flattered by Katherine’s praise than she wanted to show. Then she turned to us. “Thank you all for tonight. You were so great, and I know the fans had an amazing time.”
I shoved my hands in my pockets and looked down at my Converse high-tops, pretending I was more interested in the uneven tile I was kicking rhythmically than listening to her.
“There’s a car waiting out front to take you back to the hotel, but of course you can go anywhere you choose. Enjoy the rest of your night.”
“So what’s the plan?” Phillip asked, slinging his arm around my shoulders. He smelled like he’d been drinking, which was odd, since we’d been served only non-alcoholic drinks at the party.
“Dude, why do you smell like you’ve been pounding drinks back all night?” I asked him.
He grinned and patted the inside of his blazer. “Flask. It made this whole experience a lot more bearable.”
“Seriously?”
He shrugged. “It was just a few drinks. I’m fine.”
I’d tried to pretend that I hadn’t noticed that he’d been drinking almost every day, and it wasn’t just a few beers. He was hitting the hard stuff more frequently. But I also knew now wasn’t the time to say anything. If he was even mildly drunk, he wouldn’t want to talk about the fact that he was possibly on a slippery slope. I knew I had to wait for the right moment.
“Cool,” I said nonchalantly. “You want to go out? I’m not really interested in going back to the hotel just yet.”
Westside Series Box Set Page 56