Fighting Chance: (A male/male enemies to lovers erotic RomCom between a young musician and his idol)

by T L Dasha

  I snapped myself back to reality as a chorus of honking cars complained behind me. I threw my car into the first space I could find and sat back into the leather seat. As if on impulse, I reached into my center console to dig out that half empty pack of cigarettes. I fumbled for a lighter, lit up, and took a long drag.

  Even if I was… taking an unhealthy interest in him, and even if he was making my days a little easier, I wasn’t falling in love with him. He was refreshing relief to my boredom. He was talented. And I…

  I let my eyes fall closed, as I pictured the way his face contorted in pleasure under every well placed flick of my tongue. That tangle of flavors as he screamed my name in perfect pitch, his eyes glazed with lust, begging me for release. I ran a hand through my hair, as if pushing the loose strands out of my face would give clarity to my racing mind.

  “I should have just fucked him and gotten him out of my system.” The groan in the back of my throat was in direct contradiction to the smile that had found its way on my lips. What is it about you that drives me so crazy, Roland Finley.

  I finished my smoke, then crossed the park to the studio. Lance and his bandmates were waiting for me, still chatting about their conquests from the night before. Typical banter. I placed my messenger bag on the desk and started prepping my work station.

  “Didn’t expect to see you at the Bee the other night.” Marcus’ voice filled the air behind me. I turned and leaned back against the desk, one hand in my pocket, the other loosely holding my tablet.

  “He was?” Lance looked surprised. He looked between Marcus and myself, a slight sense of panic in his movements. “What were you doing there? What if someone saw you?“

  I cocked my head back, putting them all further below me before I addressed them.

  “It was an opportunity to see how you all act in public. If you want to be more than just another reality TV show drop out, you’ll need to keep up certain appearances. It’s easier for me to modify your behavior once I’ve actually seen it firsthand.” I shook my head. I figured they must have been there, but I wasn’t terribly worried about being caught at an industry event. “Your average person wouldn’t recognize me, anyway. The advantage to being behind the scenes means my words are known far better than my face. You’re at no risk of being found out.”

  “That makes sense.” Marcus nodded. The finality of his tone told me it was a safe bet that he hadn’t seen me dancing with Roland. That would have been a bit harder to explain.

  “Of course. Right. We’re probably more famous now than you are.” Lance was immediately at ease. I fought every urge to roll my eyes.

  “...Sure. Let’s go with that.” I’m guessing his ‘first love’ was himself. “Moving on, let’s discuss this week’s song-“

  “This week’s theme is fucking stupid.” Lance interrupted.

  I just shook my head again. “Love songs are the backbone of the entire music industry. It’s an integral piece of any musician’s repertoire if they want to relate to about 99% of the population.”

  “I disagree.” Lance crossed his arms, not interested in reason. “There are so many lame-ass love songs already. It’s too generic. Who wants to hear about some shallow, played out bullshit about some bitch who ends up fucking your brother the first time they sleep over.”

  Ouch. I thought I was a cynic.

  “I wouldn’t be that harsh.” That other kid whose name I can never remember perked up. “But I don’t think any of us even have a ‘first love.’ It’s naïve to think we even know what that means at this point.”

  “None of you had high school sweethearts? Grade school crushes? You must have at least chased a girl around the playground or something.”

  “Not really.” Marcus forced a smile. “We started this band when we first started middle school, hoping it’d make us cool. But I think we all ended up so obsessed with it, we didn’t have time to worry about anything or anyone else. It kind of became all consuming.”

  “Then write about that.” Right in front of their faces and they still can’t see it.

  “Huh? What do you mean?” Lance eyed me with confusion. Do I have to spell everything out for them?

  “What do you think love is? It’s obsession. It’s a feeling in your gut that this thing is more important than any distractions. It’s fear that the smallest mistake will take it all away, then finding the beauty in those mistakes when it doesn’t. It’s all consuming, dirty, hot, and cold all at the same time.” I paused as I fired up my tablet and opened the notepad, hoping if I gave them a few extra seconds, it would start to sink in. “Your first love doesn’t have to be a person. It just has to mean everything to you. For some people that’s the hot girl who sits in the second row in Calc II. For the rest of us, it’s our art.”

  Lance smiled. It was genuine. Maybe the most real thing I’ve ever seen from him. I forget sometimes that these guys are just kids. They’ll learn. Eventually.

  Maybe I will too.

  Chapter 9

  Roland Finley

  The heat of the stage lights couldn’t compare to the heat in my cheeks. I stared out at the studio audience, gathering my conviction to sing this song. I knew Jay would hear it. Maybe I wanted him to. But that didn’t relieve the anxiety of going through with it.

  Logan began his intro solo, rolling up and down the note scale on his guitar. He finished with a flourish, and I took my cue, going straight into the chorus.

  ~I’ve been staring into darkness. Pushing and pulling. Is it love or is it duress?~ Slow, steady, matching Logan’s strums, I moved my lips closer to the mic. ~Going round and round in circles. Heat in your hands, and ice upon your lips. Hold me down, pretend you hate me. But I’ll always find my way back in.~

  I threw out my hands and took to the keys, joining in on the melody with a simple, banging beat.

  ###

  Jay McClintock

  ~Feels good to know I’m running through your mind. You make me crazy and hot at the same time.~

  That involuntary smile that Roland so constantly forced upon me covered my lips. I tapped the volume on my laptop up a few more notches, then used both of my hands to press my headphones more tightly against my ears. I closed my eyes, and laid my head back in the leather cushion of my office chair.

  Cheeky bastard.

  ###

  Roland Finley

  ~Don’t stop, your hands have got me reeling. Can’t stop, such a wonderful feeling.~

  Logan slowed the tempo and played more softly, letting my voice take the lead and trail off the final line.

  ~That sharp tongue piercing into mine. I’ll let you tease me if I can have you one more time.~

  My body shook with the vibration of the applause and the vibration of my own laughter. Logan came up beside me and ruffled my hair with one hand, the other making a fist in the air to goad on the crowd. The reception was electric. It was thrilling and crazy and shocking and incredible all at once. It was exactly how I felt about Jay.

  When the elimination round came up, once again we were left in that top and bottom six. Third place went to a boyfriend and girlfriend pop duo who sang a song about the innocent beginnings of puppy love. Then the second place roulette began. I held my breath and listened to the ticking of the revolving lights. Was this going to be us? Could we do better than third place? Maybe I would get to brag to Jay that I was the first loser instead of the second. Imagining the way he would mock me was enough to calm my nerves.

  Tick, tick. Tick.. Tick…Tick….. Tick.

  The spotlight landed on Dread Theory. Confusion flashed through Lance’s face before he immediately masked it with fake gratitude. But every twitch and movement reflected ‘I’m supposed to have won!’ His song was just as strong this time. It was an ode to art, an ode to music, and a story of finding himself through song. As an artist, it moved me far more than I cared to admit. But maybe it was lost on the public.

  The roulette began again. There were two possibilities. Either I was going to be in
the bottom, or…

  The heat of the overhead light stopped over my head, casting down the warmth of sweet victory.

  “In first place this week, Roland Finley and Logan Michaels of Fighting Chance showed us all what love is.” Drake Morgan approached us with his mic. “That song really took me back to school days! I’m still apologizing to my wife for all those years I thought I was supposed to pick on the girl I liked to get her attention.” The studio audience laughed along with the host. “So what inspired ‘Tsundere?’”

  Logan gave me a nod and a grin, as if to say he was giving me the victory lap. I took hold of the mic.

  “Oh man, I stressed over this one for a long time.” I let out a sigh that seemed to free me of all of my anxiety. “I always hear about people getting into these new relationships where everything is exciting and easy. They have this great honeymoon phase where they finish each other’s sentences.”

  “And I’m just over here like- Why isn’t it ever that easy for me? Why does it feel like an uphill battle to even know if this other person likes me?” Another round of laughs from the audience rang out.

  “For me, falling in love has been a train wreck, yet at the same time, I want that hot and the cold. I don’t know why I enjoy the game so much. The lows that make the highs so high. The fighting and the fuuu….. the fun.” Whoops- don’t be too candid, Roland. I ran a hand threw my hair, and laughed it off. “Err… anyway, that’s what I wanted to capture in this song. ”

  “Beautifully stated.” Drake nodded along with my every word. “So, I have to ask- do you have someone special right now?”

  Somehow, no matter how obvious it should have been that he might ask that, that question still caught me completely off guard. I took a deep breath,

  “You know, it’s so hot and cold every other hour, it’s really hard to say.” I chuckled, hoping he would take the hint to not press further. The spotlight went off with one last fit of applause and the elimination of the bottom band began. I walked off the stage with Logan, and returned to the dressing room. No sooner had I changed back into my jeans and collected my phone did it start buzzing in my hand.

  -Tell Logan you don’t need a ride today. Wait in the back lot.-

  I reread Jay’s text about five times, my heart beating a little faster on each attempt.

  -I take it you watched the show.-

  -Yes.-

  I couldn’t tell if that was an angry single word answer or simply an aloof one. Maybe an excited one? Yeah, let’s go with that…

  Logan didn’t question me when I declined a ride. He wasn’t completely oblivious.

  It was dark by the time we left the studio. I had waited out back for nearly an hour when Jay’s blacked out Mercedes stopped beside me. A jerk of his head was all it took to get me in his passenger seat. His smile was easy. No sense of tension or mockery. He wasn’t mad.

  “Sorry, traffic was horrendous…” Jay paused only long enough to focus on pulling out of the parking lot. “I figured I’d get to you before you ended up at the Rumbling Bee again.”

  “So is this like… a congratulations date?”

  “Let’s call it a protection date.”

  “So you agree that it’s a date then.” I smiled broadly as he rolled his eyes.

  “Sure. You’ve earned that much.” His tone was steady. I kept looking for some hint that this was all a joke, but it never came. All he gave me was that relaxed smirk on his handsome profile. Streetlights reflected off the lenses of his glasses, moving quickly out of the frames like shooting stars. He looked so much gentler than I was used to. I could barely believe this was the same guy who was mocking me in the park just a month or so ago.

  “Let me show you what a dinner date is supposed to look like.”

  “Will there be ice cream?”

  “Probably some kind of gelato. You’re moving up in the world, Roland.” Amusement looked good in his eyes. He pulled onto the freeway and started toward downtown.

  ###

  Jay McClintock

  The whole ride over I had been questioning what compelled me to do this- why I had rushed out of my office, why I had sat through an hour of traffic, why I felt like I needed to see him. But as soon as Roland had gotten in the car, my internal arguments fell silent. Was it really so wrong that I wanted to see him? He had genuinely bested me this week. I stuck with lyrics that reflected Dread Theory’s truth, but Roland spoke his own. Perhaps I was biased in this case, but either way, he deserved to be congratulated.

  I can’t believe I just let myself get suckered into the charisma of another vocalist. I rolled my eyes to myself, still holding a smile, then shifted gears.

  Where did I want to take him? I glanced over at Roland, who was fixated on the window- a soft expression, cheeks slightly reddened. Skye Bar was top tier. If I had planned this out, I could have gotten reservations, but they wouldn’t dare turn me away anyway. Over the Moon would be a more succinct palate fixer, but it didn’t have the same ambiance. Maybe Taste of Magic?

  My phone started ringing through the Bluetooth, and I tapped the screen to answer on instinct. I immediately regretted that decision.

  “Jay! Emergency!” Jonathan’s voice bellowed through the speakers. Roland shifted in his seat, keeping his eyes on the window, having no other option than to eavesdrop.

  What is it now? I already finished up the proposal for Heroes of Heartbreak.

  “I just got off a conference call with Cory and Day-“

  “One second. I’ve got you on speaker.” I cut him off as quickly as I could and switched him over to my headset. Roland likely wouldn’t think anything of Cory’s name, but anything involving a Gold was the last thing I needed him to hear. I looked over at Roland and held up a finger to ask for a quick minute. He nodded in understanding.

  “Alright, speak.”

  “Right, thank you. Definitely not something I want to share with random passersby.” Jonathan let out a sigh, but his voice didn’t sound any more relieved. “So as I was saying, Cory was just on the phone with Dayton Gold. He is not happy.”

  Because his son got second place? He still has ten more rounds. He can’t win every single one…

  So many things I wanted to say, but I wasn’t in a position to argue right now.

  “Okay. And?”

  “I tried to tell him the occasional second place was part of the plan. Cory even backed me on it. But Gold wasn’t having any part of it.”

  “I’m still waiting for you to get to the point.” There were a number of directions he might be going with this, and not one was what I wanted to hear.

  “I need the full promo plan for Dread Theory, so he can see what we intend to do once the show is over. I’m working on the marketing strategies, but I need a concept pitch for their first full length album.”

  “How soon?”

  “Gold is on his way to the airport for a business trip to Tokyo as we speak, and he expects it to be in his inbox by the time he lands, so… in the next ten hours or so?”

  “Understood.”

  “Thank you so much, Jay! You’re a life-“

  Click

  I tore off my headset and tossed it into the back seat. Fuck. This is not how I want to spend my night. Add in a few extra points for being in such a hurry to leave that I left my laptop at the office. I took a deep breath, trying not to show Roland my irritation.

  “Do you mind if I make a quick pit stop at my office?” I managed to keep my tone calm.

  “Of course not. Whatever you need to do is fine.” Roland smiled at me, the slightest glint of disappointment shining in his eyes. Dammit.

  I rerouted to my office, and scanned my keycard to access the parking garage. The valet had long since left. The whole building was dark. Jonathan must be working from home. I parked in my spot near the elevator and shut off the car.

  “Do you want to come up? See what the ALIVE Records office looks like?”

  “Yes, please!” He nodded like an over-eager puppy dog. I
f I couldn’t show him a proper dinner, I could at least show him this. We took the elevator to the 29th floor, and I unlocked my office. My laptop was still sitting on my desk, still open but unplugged. Careless.

  “There’s whiskey on the shelf if you want a drink. The kitchen around the corner is fully stocked if you’re hungry. I’ll try to make this quick.” I sat down at my desk, and clicked my laptop back into its power source.

  I glanced up at Roland before starting my work. His eyes were the largest I’d ever seen them, trying to absorb as much of the office as possible. He zipped around the room, reading every trophy, plaque, and award, and thumbing through my record collection. A kid in a candy store.

  I returned my focus to the screen and started typing up the pitch.

  ~Run my fingers down your chest, your body hot and slick with sweat. Just tell me you can’t take it, and I’ll tell you ‘We’re not done yet.’~ Brad’s breathy voice played through my surround sound over a slow, seductive melody. Interesting choice.

  “How am I supposed to concentrate if you’re going to tease me with a song like that?” I spun around to face Roland, who was standing by the window, his back to me, chin cast to the city below him.

  “You can see the whole city from here!” His excitement reverberated through his voice. “I always thought Los Angeles was a beautiful city. I love the beach, the mountains, and the ocean, but there’s something about these structures- the architecture and artistry, every tower and building built with the blood, sweat, and tears of… Of people. Music might be my life’s work, but this city is the life’s work of millions.” He turned to face me, letting the moonlight paint him as a silhouette, his warm smile barely visible in the low light of my office. He looked both sultry and innocent in the same image.

  Now I definitely wouldn’t be able to concentrate on work.

  “You must feel like a king, sitting in this high tower all the time.” Roland’s grin took on a little extra mischief. “No wonder you’re so full of yourself.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re not wrong.” I let a smirk settle on my face as I stood up. “Do you want to know my favorite thing about working atop this watchtower?” I paced over to him until I was close enough to run a hand through his hair. I let my fingers trail down to his chin, and used my body to press him into the glass. I took his mouth, light and teasing.