Rock Free

by Virna DePaul

  “You know me—high-maintenance,” Vickie joked, swiping a hand across her face free from makeup and ran a hand through her tangled mess of hair. She threw her arms around me and her hug felt good, like coming home.

  “You look great, Vic.” I opened the car door for her.

  “Leave that chivalry stuff for your groupies, pumpkin. I can get my own door.” She shoved her shit in the back of the car and plopped down in the seat, then yanked the passenger door shut.

  I snorted and rounded the car. Once inside, I tugged off my dark sunglasses and ball cap I wore to stay incognito and gave Vickie a wide smile. “Missed you. Did you have a good time in Cali?”

  “Do. Not. Call. It. Cali. At least, not according to most Californians I met. They will sooner stab you with a fork than allow you to disrespect their state name in that way.”

  Before I could finish laughing, she jerked a thumb to an approaching motorcycle cop and added, “We’ll have time for the warm and fuzzies later. Step on it before we upset Homeland Security.”

  I floored it. When she was right, she was right. And the last thing I wanted was to deal with airport security. It ranked right up there with cactus needles up my ass and extra math homework the night before a unit test.

  A half hour later we’d arrived at Vickie’s place. I’d hauled her heavy-as-shit backpack up three floors and had thrown myself down on her couch

  Vickie came out of the kitchen with a couple of longneck beers and handed me one before plopping down next to me. “You’re quiet,” she said. “You’re hardly ever quiet, Wes. That’s just not you. God knows you have a fucking opinion on everything.”

  Sighing, I leaned against the sofa back. This tiny love seat was just barely big enough for both of us, and my thighs were touching up against hers. The connection was making blood rush to my cock, but my mind wasn’t responding to Vickie’s touch the way it used to. Thoughts of Sara kept filtering into my mind.

  “Just thinking.”

  “About what?”

  Time to punt. No way would I tell Vickie the truth—that some church girl got into my head. “I’m thinking of asking to direct a small segment in the concert movie we’re doing,” I said, hoping that answer would be enough to keep her from digging deeper. Vickie was one of the only people who knew I’d been studying film directing.

  “Really? That’s great! I know how much you love your film classes. That’s awesome they’re giving you a shot.”

  “Well, if the director approves. I haven’t even asked him yet, and he’s shot down all the ideas I’ve thrown at him so far. And the rest of the band doesn’t even know I’ve been studying film.”

  Vickie jolted upright and stared at me. Lines transected her forehead and something sharp glittered in her eyes. “Why not?”

  I shrugged. “It’s no big deal.”

  “Ben…”

  I sighed. “Okay, so what if I don’t have what it takes? My ego’s not covered in titanium, you know.”

  Vickie scoffed. “Of course you have what it takes. Just like you had what it took to become lead guitarist of the hottest band in the world.”

  I grinned. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. I hope Henri—”

  “Who?” She took another sip from her bottle.

  “The director of our concert movie. I’m hoping he’ll be impressed with some stuff I have in my student portfolio.”

  Vickie downed the rest of her beer and turned toward me, her legs shifting together like some elegant cat. “Speaking of being impressed with something,” she said, reaching over and stroking my dick through the fabric of my jeans.

  Funny, but my intentions of getting laid had seemed to slip my mind. I regrouped, refocused, and let my eyes drift shut to enjoy the touch of Vickie’s hand on my cock.

  For a minute, I enjoyed the sensation. Vickie’s fingers felt so good, I knew she could get me off in a hot minute if I let her. But as my mind wandered and my imagination strayed, it was a pair of bright green eyes looking back at me in my mind.

  Sara.

  Suddenly my arousal fizzled and my cock grew soft. Fuck. I shifted away from Vickie and stood. She gawked at me as I walked over to the corner of her apartment to her vintage record crates and thumbed through her vinyl. I glanced back over, and saw Vickie’s expression was tight. She was pissed.

  “So, what has you acting so newbie?” she drawled out and picked up her beer. “You craving groupie pussy tonight?”

  My heart thumped and I shot her a hard glare.

  Her comment sounded too much like Lindsay’s when she’d accused me of craving dick. Did I have to be in the mood for someone else if I wasn’t in the mood for her?

  “Not cool, Vickie.”

  “Sorry,” she said with an apologetic smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “So, what is it?”

  “I’m just tired,” I bit out, “and I don’t feel like it.”

  “You were moaning like you felt like it about five seconds ago. And we’re friends who help each other out sometimes. You looked like you needed to be helped out. I thought I was forwarding the favor.”

  “I know. And thanks. But tonight I don’t want any,” I replied, my voice tighter than I wanted it to be.

  She crossed her arms over her chest and evaluated me. “I don’t think that’s it. I think you want someone specific, and I’m not her.” Her eyes widened when I sucked in a sudden breath. “I’m right, aren’t I? So who’s the lucky girl? She must be someone very special for you to be saving yourself like this.”

  I snorted. I was hardly some virginal white knight in a fucking fairy tale. I just wasn’t in the damn mood, and Vickie wasn’t letting up. “I’m not saving myself for anyone,” I blustered, and at Vickie’s arched eyebrow, I suddenly added, “Fine. Yeah, I do have someone on my mind.”

  Fuck. Now why the hell had I said that?

  “Ah, so it is a girl.” Vickie beamed. “Come on, what’s her name?”

  I hesitated a minute, then realized I’d obviously brought up Sara for a reason. Was it because I needed to trust someone with what had happened? Or was it that Vickie was female and could maybe give me insight on the girl who was currently driving me crazy? Either way, I’d stuck my foot in it now. No sense in trying to hide what was going on in my mind. “She’s an NYU student.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question, but I’ll take it. How’d you meet? Concert? Party?”

  “We met at our show last night, the one where we unveiled our latest tracks we’re still working on for the new album.”

  “You fell for a groupie?” Vickie snorted. “You always said you’d never fall for a groupie.”

  “She’s not a groupie,” I was quick to reply. “More like a fan. She didn’t sound or look or act like any of the groupies Point Break has. Nothing outrageous, nothing crazy.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Sara Crawford.”

  “And?”

  “And she’s different. Sweet but not so sweet. She came to our show. She’s a big enough fan to know the lyrics and how to score tickets. But I only got to know her for a short time, and the way that time ended was kind of sketchy and super public. She got freaked out and ran off.” Probably because she’d been horrified that her father would find out she’d been with me, I reminded myself.

  Vickie tucked her legs underneath her and waved the beer bottle in the air. “Does the rest of the band know about her?”

  “Not exactly. Liam was there, but he doesn’t know who she is. And he doesn’t know I was into her. Tucker knows. He told me her father’s Peter Crawford. He’s a television evangelist. She was raised super religious.”

  “Oh,” Vickie said.

  I bristled at the look on her face. “Oh?”

  “A sweet but not so sweet girl raised in an uber-religious household?” She shrugged. “Wes, you’re a man-whore. You have a different groupie just about every night, and sometimes two or more. You’re too dirty for a girl like that. She needs someone who can commit.”

&
nbsp; Okay, so I was a little more than peeved that Vickie felt this way about me. Yeah, I had a bad boy reputation, and yeah, it was sketchy, but to say I was too dirty for a girl like Sara? Vickie didn’t even know Sara. And to say I couldn’t commit? I could—I just didn’t want to. Hadn’t wanted to for ages.

  “You’re making assumptions, Vic. Everybody thinks they know me, but they don’t.” I could be committed if I wanted to. I could stop being a dirty man-whore. Still, the memory of Lindsay’s words nagged at the back of my mind. That voice that said I couldn’t do it. That I’ll always want what I don’t have. I know that’s total bullshit, though. Lindsay hadn’t understood what being bisexual meant and had been speaking out of fear and ignorance.

  The only person who knew why Sara hadn’t tried to find me was Sara. Maybe, like me, there was something simmering under her surface. And maybe it was time I found out.

  I thought back to the elevator, the way Sara and I were the only two people on the damn planet when I sang to her. And when we kissed… Damn. I stepped toward the door. “Look, I have to start early tomorrow for a recording session. I’m gonna head out and grab some dinner on my way home.”

  Vickie stood and followed me to the door. Squeezing my shoulder, she added, “Hey. I just don’t want to see you get hurt. Trying to get with a preacher’s daughter is going to end in heartbreak.”

  “All right,” I said, walking out. “Thanks, Vic.”

  Thanks for nothing.

  Or maybe, I should say, thanks for everything. Because Vickie’s lack of belief in me had triggered me to prove her wrong.

  A short while later, I was at NYU. There, I easily found Sara’s dorm. A college student barged up the stairs and opened the door, then looked back at me as I stood on the step, as if maybe trying to figure out why I looked familiar, before giving a quick shake of his head and dashing inside.

  I caught the door before it could close and stepped inside behind him.

  Look out, Little Red. The Big Bad Wolf is here and he wants answers.

  Chapter 5

  Sara

  The moment I spotted Wes Shaw leaning by my door, looking at his phone, I slowed down. My heartbeat sped up, though. The last thing I’d expected when I got back from a late class was for Wes to be at my dorm.

  Wes Freaking Shaw.

  Ball cap, hair tucked neatly under it, dark glasses. Flying under the radar. Obviously, no one knew who he was, or there’d be ear-splitting shrieks from all directions.

  Despite his attempt to blend, I recognized him the minute I rounded the hall. No Yankees hat could fool me. Immediately, I was hit by his spicy, cinnamon scent. He smelled so good, even from ten feet away.

  Flashes of our passionate encounter ran through my mind. My cheeks flushed with heat. My heart pounded so hard it felt like dragons instead of butterflies fluttering in my stomach.

  After visiting with Rebekah at Chuck E. Cheese, I’d gone to class and told myself the whole time that what Wes and I had had in the elevator had been magical, wonderful, but couldn’t be repeated. A guy like Wes Shaw with a girl like me? Never going to happen. I thought I’d actually convinced myself—I’d been repeatedly telling myself the same thing since last night, so it had to sink in some time—but now here he was.

  Waiting.

  For me.

  Half of me wanted to run and leap into his arms and the other half wanted to duck out of sight, but just then he looked up and caught my eye, and wow—the smile that crossed his face was glorious.

  “Sara,” he said, moving toward me just as Margie Phillips poked her head out of her room and gave me a look. I gestured to an old alcove in the hallway where there once had been a pay phone. Margie was a total snoop, and I didn’t need her gossiping about my guest.

  Fine, there were other reasons I wanted to hide in the alcove, too, none of which involved Margie, but rather my inability to control myself.

  “What are you doing here?” I blurted out. And how had he found me?

  “Why did you run away without talking to me?” His breath was warm and pleasant. It sent chills down my arms. Our bodies were so close in this small space, reminding me of the night we met. And kissed. And…

  I opened my mouth, but I hesitated to tell him all the reasons I’d run, mostly because they were all a jumbled mess swirling around in my head. When I just remained silent, he finally spoke again.

  “Listen, I haven’t stopped thinking about you. That doesn’t usually happen for me. Never does, actually. That has to mean something.”

  The knowledge that he had possibly been thinking about me just as much as I’d been thinking of him, that he hadn’t dismissed our encounter in the elevator as just another day in the life of a rock star, made my heart pump faster. But it scared me, too. My reaction to him. His words. I didn’t trust them. “Wes, you don’t even know me. We barely had a conversation before the elevator broke down. After that, I was in panic mode.” It was more than panic mode that drove me into his kiss, but he didn’t have to know that.

  A war began to wage within myself. Between telling him my honest thoughts and keeping him at bay. A young lady should never reveal all, I could hear my mother say.

  “Are you saying we kissed only because you were scared at that moment? Come on, Sara.” A smirk crossed his lips and then a dimple formed on his cheek. Uh oh. Wes could see through me, a surefire sign I was in trouble. “Give yourself and me more credit than that.”

  “I think you’re reading too much into this,” I said, then nibbled my lip. Why was it so hard for me to admit I’d been attracted to him at that moment? That I’d acted on that attraction? Would that make me less pure, less holy, less ladylike? To my family, maybe, but they were in Texas, and I was here, in what I considered to be the real world. The world where I could be the real me.

  Wes raised one cocky eyebrow. “Let’s stop speculating. In fact, let’s try the whole scenario again just to make sure.” He smiled wide. “Hell, right here’s fine. This space has elevator-like qualities to it. Want to?” His hand reached out and barely caught my fingertips.

  “Wes…” I didn’t push him away, but I didn’t lean into his touch either, as much as I wanted to. Really wanted to. Being in a miniskirt and makeup at a Point Break concert was one thing. Being at my college dorm having just come from a class where I’d been learning about the roots of religious law was another. Out of context, I felt like the Sara my father wanted me to be, not the real one within.

  “Look, I know about your dad.”

  I almost jerked in surprise. “Um…you do?”

  “Yes.” He pulled off his sunglasses, and those bright silver eyes of his slayed me.

  Oh crap, I’m toast.

  “I know who he is. I know that he probably wouldn’t approve of you being caught making out in an elevator with me. But I also know I want to spend more time with you. We came together for, like, a blip in time, and then poof—you were gone. Can you really forget about it that easily?”

  No! I wanted to scream. Instead, I forced myself to look at my feet and remain silent. Because he was so right. My father wouldn’t be pleased to know I’d been making out in an elevator with him. In fact, he’d be so displeased that he’d probably demand I come home immediately. And then I’d have to stand up to him. I’d have to show him the real me, and that wasn’t something I could see myself doing, see myself risking right now, even for Wes Shaw.

  After a few tense seconds of silence, Wes muttered a soft curse, then he reached into his pocket, pulled out something, and held it out to me.

  My phone.

  He pressed it into my hand.

  “I was hoping I could return your phone and we could talk,” he said, his voice stiff, “but I won’t bother you again.”

  Swiftly, I looked up just as he turned and started walking away. Unbelievably, the panic I felt at Wes walking away, knowing I’d never see him again, was much worse than the panic I’d felt imagining standing up to my father.

  To use Wes’s words
, that has to mean something.

  Before I knew what I was doing, I called out, “Wait.”

  He froze but didn’t turn around.

  “Wes, I’m not ashamed of what we did. Surprised at myself, maybe, but not ashamed. I had a great time with you last night. It’s just…” What’s the problem, Sara? You thought about him all day, and now that he’s here, you can’t show your true feelings? Be honest with others for once. At least be honest with Wes even if you don’t feel you can be honest with your family. I bit my lip and bit the bullet. “I ran away last night because I was a little embarrassed at how bold I was with you, and a little embarrassed that the people who found us probably knew what we’d been doing, but mostly I ran because I’d been me, the real me, when I was with you, and that’s not something I’m allowed to be. Not as far as my family is concerned. I was afraid my dad would discover just how much I’d wanted to spend time with you, in that elevator and out of it. But the truth is, I still want to spend time with you.”

  I was breathing hard, my heart in my throat, when he slowly turned and took my hand in his, his expression relieved and hopeful. “Little Red, I want to spend more time with you, too. The question is will you give us the chance to? It has to be your choice. I understand if your concerns about your father take precedence. I won’t like it, but I’ll accept it.”

  I laughed harshly at the realization that Wes was a virtual stranger, but he was treating me like an adult, one capable of making my own decisions, and that was something my own family didn’t respect me enough to do. “My concerns about my father have always taken precedence. Except here. Since I moved to New York, I’ve been able to be braver. Last night you moved me to be the bravest I’ve ever been.”

  “Yeah?” He smiled even as he caressed the back of my hand with his thumb.

  “Yeah,” I whispered, turning my hand so that I could link my fingers with his. I cleared my throat, then took the plunge, finally accepting that I wasn’t going to let Wes walk away from me, and that I certainly wasn’t going to run away from him. Not again. “Do you want to go somewhere? Like out to dinner? To talk?”