by E. M. Moore
Hard breaths hit the microphone as the guys all stop playing their instruments at once. The tinny sound of the guitar is the last to fade.
“You!” a voice says. “Fucker. Get away from her.”
The people around us step away. The guy, who was smiling like a cat, now turns red with anger. “What?” he asks. “It’s just my girl and I having some fun.”
He steps toward me again, and I push him off me as a wave of body odor infiltrates my nostrils. “I’m not yours,” I practically growl.
We have the attention of everyone at the bar now. The bartender pulls himself up onto the bar and stares our way. “Christ, Roy. Get away from the girl.”
“Come on,” the guy—Roy—says.
He tries to make a step toward me again, but a body jumps down next to me, plowing people out of the way. He shoves Roy back, who stumbles and falls into a group of people before landing on his ass. “I said fucking leave her alone.”
I blink, staring at Ian’s back. His hands are clenched to fists, and I see the muscles in his shoulders bunch as he watches the guy get to his feet. He’s swaying, but he lunges toward Ian anyway.
“Shit,” I hear Finnick say behind me, and then there’s a strum of discombobulated notes until he lands next to me and marches up next to Ian. It doesn’t matter because the bartender has already gotten to Roy and is pinning the man’s arms to his sides and moving him toward the exit.
When Finnick touches Ian, Ian whirls on him until he realizes it’s just him. He visibly relaxes while Archer meets up with them and Sean lands on his feet next to me. “Shit, are you okay? I didn’t see what happened.”
I shrug, a chill running through me. “The guy was getting overly friendly,” I tell him, still staring at Ian in shock. Out of all of them, I’m surprised it was him that called the asshole out.
Just when I think it, he turns toward me. The look in his eyes almost takes my breath away. He strides toward us, a feral look in his eyes. I creep closer to Sean on instinct, but when Ian gets to me, his gaze softens. He looks me over, his eyes feeling like he’s tearing my skin apart and turning it inside out just so he can see what I’m thinking and feeling. Whatever he sees there, he seems to calm down a fraction, but he turns and heads toward the exit, throwing the door open with one bang.
What the hell just happened?
21
My view of the world starts to narrow as we exit the bar. I had no idea the night would end like this. I went from a high of watching them play to just plain confusion and ick. My stomach churns. I can almost feel the repulsive guy’s hands still on me. The sting of his grab is still there.
I wrap my arms around myself as we go outside. Ian’s eyes are investigating the parking lot, and it dawns on me that he’s looking for the guy in the bar.
That’s not good.
“We have to get him home,” Archer says to Sean, his voice low.
Sean pulls me alongside him until we’re all at the car. When Archer pulls the keys out of his pocket, I pluck them from his grip. “I’m driving.”
None of them put up an argument about that. They pile into the small sports car as best they can. Tensions are high. I think it’s the energy of playing live coupled with what just happened. Ian breaking the song off and then going after the guy who was getting too touchy. On the way back, I see Ian looking at me from the corner of his eye a few times. My nerves are on fire from those little looks. It feels like there’s a car full of unspoken words between us right now, but all I can focus on is getting them back to the house. If Ian would’ve went after that guy, I’m sure some asshole would’ve filmed it and put it out there. Big City would’ve had a field day with that one. They might be able to get away with going out to a bar one night, but they wouldn’t get away with fighting. They were furious when they found out about the social media posts from their impromptu beach party, so a video of Ian kicking some guy’s ass wouldn’t go over well at all.
I take a left into the driveway. “Just pull it around front,” Archer says. “Rex will deal with it tomorrow.” I look at the clock and notice it’s one a.m. Pretty late, but if the guy hadn’t grabbed me, they could’ve played longer. They were enjoying themselves. My heart clenches.
I do as Archer says and then hand him back the keys after everyone’s out and it’s locked. When we get inside, everyone disperses. Ian runs up the stairs at the end of the hall. Finnick looks like he’s going to follow, but he doesn’t. Instead, Archer and Sean make their way after him, leaving Finnick and I alone. “I’m just going to shower,” I tell him, needing to wash the stench of the bar and the gross feeling off me. That guy violated my space and part of my body, but at least he didn’t do more.
Because of Ian…
I try not to let myself think about that and make my way toward my new room. Finnick follows me. He shuts the door behind us, and when I turn toward him, his eyes are a mix of uncertainty, sadness, and a heaviness I can’t understand. “Are you okay?” he asks. “I’ll stay with you. Or I can leave. Whatever you want. I just didn’t want you to be alone if you didn’t want to be.”
“He didn’t do that much,” I say, hating how I’m trying to cover up the feeling like I might throw up. It was an invasion of space. It was an invasion of more than that too. He rubbed his hard-on on me like he owned me. Never in my life have I ever been treated like that at a bar. In fact, I’ve never been treated like that ever.
“He did enough,” Finnick says, not buying my bullshit for one minute. “You can feel however you want to about it.”
Finnick moves closer like he’s going to hug me, but I stop him. I don’t want to mix the two. I don’t want to feel the ghost of that coward’s touch and then feel Finnick’s over it no matter if I’m craving it right now.
He seems to understand because he lets me move away and go into the bathroom. There, I strip, pulling off the clothes I wore. The ones that induced the guy to say how hot I was and feel like he had a reason, an excuse maybe, to touch me.
I know it’s not that. What anyone wears isn’t an excuse for someone to do what he just did, but I’m also wondering if I should’ve worn something else. Would it have stopped him? Hell, the outfit wasn’t even that bad.
The hot water cascading over me helps. It washes the ick away, mostly. When I’m done, I pull a towel around myself and step out into the main room. Steam billows out into the bedroom, momentarily distorting my view. When it clears though, I see two bodies there, and one of them is Ian’s.
I stop and stare at him awkwardly before he gets to his feet.
“Thank you,” I blurt out, not knowing what else to say. We barely say anything to each other unless it’s to piss the other off or argue.
His gaze traces down the line of my body, picking it apart, stopping more on certain places than others until my chest is flushed red.
“Do you need anything?” Finnick asks.
“A quart of ice cream?” I say, smiling. Ice cream’s kind of my go-to when I need to drown away my sorrows.
Finnick gets up from the bed and comes over, gliding his fingertips along my jaw. Without a word, he leaves the room, and then I’m there all alone with Ian. This freaks me out more than it should. I can’t stop gawking at the carefully controlled look on his face. The energy he had earlier tonight is replaced with a thick tension I can feel vibrating through my own body. “No guy should touch you unless you want it,” he says.
I nod.
“It wasn’t right,” he adds like he’s trying to convince me of something.
“It wasn’t,” I say, agreeing with him. “Thank you. If you didn’t—.”
“Stop fucking thanking me,” he says, raising his voice.
I tilt my head, not understanding his anger.
He runs his hands through his hair like he’s going to yank at the ends. He’s suddenly frustrated and breathing heavy. “No one should fucking touch you.”
“I know,” I say because I feel like those are the words he needs to hear right now.
It’s like his eyes, his demeanor, everything, are pulling that out of my mouth.
“I should’ve went after him.”
“It’s probably better that you didn’t,” I say. “What would Big City say when they found out?”
“Fuck Big City!” Ian roars.
Fury flashes in his eyes. My whole body starts to shake. He moves forward after watching my reaction. “I fucking mean it, Aisley. No one should touch you when you don’t want them to. It doesn’t matter how big or how small. Your body is fucking yours. No one else’s.”
The more he talks, the more I wonder where all of this is coming from. It seems odd he would be so worried about me. A girl he can’t even stand half the time. “I know,” I say, my teeth chattering.
My body is so wrapped up in his. When he breathes, I breathe. It’s like staring at a clone of myself. Whatever I see there, I’m drawn to ten-fold. Even more so than before. Right now, he’s more than just the guy with the voice that makes my heart sing. He’s more than just the rockstar I know can be cruel. I feel like he’s feeling something real. And maybe there’s a bit of scared in there, too, like I noticed from the bar earlier. He’s vulnerable.
I don’t know what it is, but I want to find out.
Maybe I’m a masochist. Maybe I’m just a foolish girl who thinks more with her heart than with anything else, but I step toward Ian. I’ve never denied my physical attraction to him. It’s been easier to deny any other attachment because of how he’s treated me, but right now, he’s treating me like he cares, and I can’t hold back my body’s reaction.
He’s worried. He’s here.
I reach my hand out. It skims along his arm and up. He starts at the touch but doesn’t pull away. My hand moves over his bicep, over his shirt, and ultimately to his jaw. I can feel it tense underneath me. His gaze never leaves mine, which makes it harder to do this, but I do it anyway, our eyes locked. My fingertips trail up, lightly brushing under his eye and then back down to his jaw.
I feel exposed and raw. My thighs clench when my towel loosens. I immediately fix it, taking my hands off him for a brief moment, but that’s enough to break the spell. Ian blinks and steps back. “You can tell me to stop,” I say.
When he doesn’t say anything, I step toward him again, moving my hand up his other arm and do the same thing to that side of his body. My fingertips buzz from being this close to him. Even when he was being a dick, I felt a pull toward him. He was so closed off, it made me want to know him more. Ridiculous, I know, but I can’t help it. I swallow, trying to relieve the dryness in my throat.
“I really enjoyed watching you sing today.”
His eyelids flutter closed as my hand reaches behind his head to slide around his neck.
“I know you have it in you to do this next album. You guys are so good, and I’m not saying that as anyone but me. The guys who wrote those songs you sang today, they don’t need anyone’s help. They just need their confidence back.”
A piece breaks inside Ian. He steps forward, wrapping his strong arms around me until I gasp in surprise. “You can tell me to stop,” he says, mimicking the words I said back to me.
The knot I put in the towel loosens. If he steps away, it’s going to be on the floor. Part of me wants it there right now. I want his body flush with mine. I want to breathe him in. I want to know more of him, and it feels like everything is pushing me to do this now, now, now. I might not get another chance. Ian doesn’t seem like the type to just let people in, but something about tonight triggered this for him.
For us.
Though we’re so close right now, neither one of us moves to take things further. It’s like we’re feeling each other out. I want to take it to the next step, the urgency kicking in, but there’s something I’m seeing in him that tells me that’s not a good idea right now. Then, I remember how he spent most of the day in his room after receiving an envelope in the mail. “Are you okay?” I ask.
He pulls away, his chest heaving into mine at my words. My towel falls a little, exposing the curve of my breasts. He looks, taking his fill until I’m sure I’m going to combust with fire. He pulls away a little more, inching the towel down until there’s ample cleavage and a bit of the pink curve starting before my nipple. Between us, I feel him growing hard. I arch into him, my eyes growing heavy with want. A soft noise escapes my throat, and then Ian’s eyes are wide, disbelieving, shocked almost. “Aisley,” he says, breathlessly. “Fuck.” A moment later, he steps back, holding my towel up to my chest. “Stop.”
I stare at him, but he’s already closed off again. I take my towel and knot it back up, stepping away from him fully. He can’t even meet my eyes. I don’t know what happened. I don’t know why the sudden change, but he said to stop, so I will.
He rakes his hands through his hair. In front of him, I can see the definite pitch near his crotch, so I didn’t imagine what was happening between us.
“You should relax,” he says, avoiding my gaze. “I’m sure Finnick will be back soon.”
I do as he says only because I’m hoping we might get that moment back, but at the same time thinking it’s passed forever. I sit on the edge of my bed as he paces the room back and forth, making me uncomfortable until I can’t stand it anymore. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Something is wrong,” I say. “Do you need to talk? I’m sorry. I—.”
He shakes his head again, but his movements are getting jerkier. More pronounced.
“You’re lying,” I say.
His steps slow and a tick starts in his jaw. “From moment one, you think you’ve known everything.”
I don’t think that’s true, but clearly something I’ve done has agitated him. “What don’t I know?”
“A lot,” he says, a shadow crossing his face.
I look away, frustrated. “I’m not the enemy, you know,” I tell him. “I haven’t been since I got here.” His lips thin. I can tell he doesn’t want to believe it, so I keep going. “I want to help. Not because your label hired me, but because I like you guys. I—” I break off because I don’t quite know how to explain my feelings for this band. Maybe Sean and Finnick are easier to explain right now, but the fact that I’m drawn to Ian, that doesn’t make sense, even to me. And Archer, there’s another side to him, too. It makes me want to figure out the clues, follow the breadcrumbs, until I get to the heart of all of them.
“You’re better off not knowing and not helping,” Ian forces out.
“I don’t believe that shit,” I say.
His gaze swings to mine. Finally.
I shrug, straightening my shoulders. “I mean it. Why did you just pull away from me? You look at me like that, then make us stop?”
“You said we could stop at any time.”
“I just want to know why.”
“Because I fucking wanted you, that’s why,” Ian growls. His limbs turn to steel as he faces me. The same look in his eyes that has been there since day one returns. “I wanted you, and I haven’t wanted anybody in…” He trails off, his mouth pursing like he doesn’t want to say the words. “In a long time.”
“You don’t even like me,” I say. I don’t know why I do. I want him to disagree with me, I think. I want him to tell me I’m wrong.
He doesn’t, of course, because he’s Ian. “Right now, liking you has nothing to do with what’s going on. Right now, I want to sink myself inside you and remember what this feeling is.”
My body trembles. My breath hitches as I stare at him in front of me. Heat gathers in my core. He’s stolen my thoughts too, because I can’t make a coherent word come out of my mouth.
“Fuck,” he says, spinning away from me.
I move to get up, but the door opens and Finnick comes in with a shopping bag. He holds it up, and through the clear plastic, I see an ice cream label. A smile starts to stretch over my face at the same time Ian strides toward the door, leaving us both behind. Finnick watches him go, eyebrows pulled in. He tries to stop him,
but Ian just waves him off.
When Finnick glances back at me, looking for an explanation, I don’t have one for him. I truthfully have no idea what any of that was about. I can hardly even understand my own reaction to him, let alone figure out what Ian was thinking.
22
The next morning, I wake to the glaring sun shining through my windows. I feel like a vampire. Or better yet, I feel like Sean. Instead of pulling the covers up over my head like he would, though, I get up. Stumbling through the room, I almost step on a dirty bowl that just last night had ice cream in it. Finnick was here, eating with me until I ate way too much. Then, he kissed my forehead and told me he’d be upstairs if I needed him.
I half expected him to stay, but I’m also glad he didn’t. I needed some time to myself. Hell, I was probably giving off that vibe. Finnick seems to know what I want before I know myself. I’m an open book. All he has to do is read me.
If that’s the case, I’m pretty sure Ian knows I want him now. Despite the weird tension between us last night, I’m still extremely grateful for what he did. He put a spotlight on a guy being an asshole. For once, he used his dickish powers for good.
I jump in the shower to get ready, thinking about all the moments before the night went bad. About how the guys felt on stage. How they sounded amazing. They were in sync, like they were part of a whole. They need to get that back. I know they have it in them.
I ready myself for the day quickly, eager to see the guys again. When I climb the stairs, Ian is at the stove. I’m almost taken aback when I notice it’s him. Then, I see smoke lifting over his shoulders as he growls, “Goddamnit.” He pulls the trash can over and empties, I think, what’s supposed to be a pancake.
I stifle a laugh and make my way to him. “Hey,” I say.
He tenses at first, then looks over at me. His expression isn’t quite as hate-filled as it has been even though I can feel the pissed vibe he’s throwing off. “How the hell do you guys make these things? Finnick makes it look so damn easy.”