I stare.
When we join Ethan to check out apartments—he's actually thinking of moving out slash moving in with Violet—I don't stare. But I do feel my phone in my pocket, against my thigh, immobile.
It should be buzzing with a text, an explanation of some kind.
I should be excited for Ethan. Or upset that he's leaving. Or both.
But I don't feel anything. I can't taste my lunch. I can't smell the salty ocean air. I can't laugh over how many celebrity spottings my brothers endure at the mall across from Ethan's potential new place.
It's not until I'm home, alone, in my bed, that I see a text from Kit.
Kit: We should take a break from talking like this.
That's it.
All night.
The next day.
The day after.
That's all he says.
Chapter 14
Kit
I'm miserable.
I'm miserable and it's entirely my fault.
It's been three days since Piper came on my face. As fucking fantastic as that was, it's not what's standing out in my mind.
She looked so hurt, like I was taking her heart with me when I left.
I promised her I wouldn't leave a dozen times and I fucking did.
I hate that I left.
But I would have fucked her if I'd stayed. And that would be it.
This is what's best for both of us.
But I fucking hate it.
Nothing gets her out of my head. Not two hours at the gym. Not three hours practicing. Not a single thriller on my Kindle. Not a walk to pick up takeout from a food truck.
Everything makes me think about Piper.
My entire body aches. My gut is empty. My chest is heavy. I can't remember the last time I felt like this and really felt it.
My thoughts keep flying back to Oxy. That easy, comfortable numb is the only thing that will make this hurt less. And she's the only thing that makes it easier not to crave that comfortable numb.
I dig through my cell until I find my old dealer's number.
I delete it.
Doesn't fucking matter either way. My fingers remember the pattern. Just tapping it into my phone gets my heartbeat calming down. It would be easy. And I don't want to feel this shit. I don't want my head heavy with how badly I hurt her.
Fuck this.
I call Joel instead.
He doesn't deserve my attitude, but I can't be in my big, empty apartment right now.
I don't wait for him to say hello. "You busy?"
"Nice to hear from you, Lockhart."
"Are you?"
"I have a girl coming over."
"Yeah." I shake my head. Fuck, I'm twenty-six. I can't fucking lean on people like this. "I'll—"
"Get on your fucking bike and get over here."
"I don't want—"
"You don't want to use. That's why you called. It's a thirty minute drive. If you aren't here in forty-five, I'm going to be pissed."
"What about—"
"Just fucking get over here."
Joel is usually happy-go-lucky. It's easy to forget he can be a real hard-ass.
But that's exactly what I need right now.
"Thanks." I hang up my phone and go straight to my bike.
By the time our first post-tour banding meeting rolls around, I'm used to being miserable. I'm still spending an absurd amount of time working out and practicing, but I'm balancing it with doing nothing with Joel.
I don't feel any better, but I don't want to numb myself either.
Now that I'm standing outside the Strong house...
Fuck, my entire body is throbbing.
I knock on the door.
A few moments later, Piper pulls it open. Her eyes fill with hurt as they fix on mine.
Her voice is curt. "Mal and Joel are already in the practice room." She pulls the door open and moves towards the stairs. "Lock the door, please."
She practically vanishes up the stairs.
Fuck, she looks as miserable as I feel.
I don't bother trying to shake it off. I'm going to feel like shit all day, all month probably. I have to get through the pain. I have to deal with the reality of a life that doesn't involve Piper.
I feel sick.
Somehow, I manage to lock the door and get to the practice room.
Joel is already fucking around on his drum kit. He's not playing as much as he's making noise. He has a look of contentment plastered on his face as he bangs his sticks against the cymbals.
This is where Joel belongs.
Mal shakes his head, not buying Joel's shit for a minute. "No fucking way is that a drum solo you came up with."
Joel smiles that typical Joel I'm fucking with you smile. "You don't have to hurt my feelings, Strong. You can tell me you don't like it."
"I hate it." Mal turns to me and raises a brow. "You want coffee?"
Joel shoots me the same concerned look. "Fuck, you really do look like shit, Lockhart. Still miserable?"
"Same as yesterday." I shrug my leather jacket off my shoulders and toss it to the ground. I haven't got any fucking patience right now. Everything is getting on my nerves.
"Yeah, but I figured it was cause you were desperate to play together." Joel bounces off his drum kit. "Don't tell me it's because Ethan isn't here?"
The guitarist is in New York City with his now-girlfriend, Violet. I'd like to be happy for them, but at the moment I despise everything about relationships.
I'm not in the mood to banter with Joel. I grit my teeth and do it anyway. "That must be it."
Mal raises a brow. He and Joel share a knowing look.
Mal looks to me. "How long has it been since rehab now?"
"About seven months." I grab my practice bass off it's stand. "I haven't used since before rehab if that's your next question." Of course I did eat out the guy's innocent baby sister then run off, so it's not like I have much high ground here.
"Good." Mal shoots Joel another concerned look. When the drummer shrugs, Mal turns back to me. "How about we call Ethan, get this started?"
I slide my hand into my pocket. "Sure."
Mal grabs the cordless landline from off the top of an amp. He dials. "Hey. I'm putting you on speaker." He sets the phone back on top of the amp.
Ethan's voice flows throw the speaker. "We could have done a, fuck what's it called? A conference call. We could have done this on the phone. You didn't have to drag Joel and Kit to Orange County right before rush hour."
"They volunteered to do it here," Mal says. "You could try being here."
Ethan's voice is bright. "Or I could try being with Violet. Which would you pick?"
"Fuck, can I try being with Valentine—" Joel calls Ethan's girlfriend by her last name- "instead of you guys? She's much more tolerable."
"Touch her and you die," Ethan says. "That goes for all three of you."
Joel laughs. There's no animosity to the teasing. All of us have been rooting for Ethan and Violet.
It's sweet but I'm not in the fucking mood. I tune out their banter until Mal starts getting into tour dates. We've got about a month and a half off, then we're playing a series of summer festivals in Europe, then we're back in Southern California to record our next album.
Then another round of press, music videos, release shit, touring to support the album.
Right now, I don't care if we're home or on the road.
Right now, the only place I want to be is with Piper. I'll have to get over it eventually, but eventually feels like a long way off.
Mal gets into practice schedules. It takes fucking forever for us to agree on three times a week, three weeks a month. All of them happen right here, in Mal and Ethan's practice room, in Orange County, twenty fucking feet from Piper's room.
Usually, I look forward to practice.
Right now...
"Let's play, huh?" I don't wait for a response. I start playing Better Days.
Mal and Joel share ano
ther WTF is his problem look, but they say goodbye to Ethan, and they join me.
We get through a dozen songs. I manage to get lost in the flow of the music. It's not quite right without our lead guitarist, but this is still where I belong.
Only I don't feel that usual sense of euphoria.
I'm still miserable.
The door to the practice room opens and Piper steps inside.
She's wearing a low cut tank top, tight jeans, and tall fuck-me boots. Her makeup is fuck-me dark too.
Piper's eyes fix on mine. Frustration flares in her expression, but she says nothing. She just looks to Mal with a nod.
He waits until we're done with the song to put away his rhythm guitar. He looks back to us. "We'll start practices the Monday after Ethan gets back." He turns to Piper. "Where are you going?"
"To the sex clubs. That's what all the kids are into now." She throws her hair over her shoulders. "You think I'll find any guys who want to tie me up and spank me?"
Mal holds a poker face. "You want to grab a wooden spoon from the kitchen to use as a paddle?"
Piper blushes.
Joel laughs. "He's outdoing you, Pipes. You need to up your game."
She nods. "Uh, no. I'd rather use a riding crop."
"I have a new one in my closet." Mal smiles. "You can have it."
She turns bright red.
Joel bursts into a fit of giggles. "Where are you really going?"
"To a show," she says.
"What show?" Joel stands and stretches. "I know all the shows. There's nothing good tonight."
"I'm not going for the music." She looks at me. "I have another goal in mind."
Joel nods. "Where are you going to get laid? You have a fake ID?"
Mal raises a brow. "Don't use a fake ID. That can get you in real trouble."
"No, the show is at Chain Reaction," she says. "Don't you care that I'm going to get laid?"
"No..." Mal looks to Joel then to me. He addresses Piper. "Is there a reason why I should care?"
She shakes her head.
"You have condoms?" Mal stares at his sister. "Grab some from my room if you don't."
She looks to Joel. "Why is he so calm?"
"You're 19, Pipes. We all know you're having sex. Except Ethan." Joel looks to me. "Well, not sure about Lockhart." He turns back to Piper. "Who's playing?"
"Butterfly Wings." She smooths her skirt.
"Aren't they bringing back emo? You won't meet any guys worth fucking at an emo show." He moves closer to Piper. "Now the chicks—they're way into the damaged musician thing. I can clean up."
She looks up at Joel. "You're damaged?"
"Only if hearing damage counts," Mal teases.
"Don't worry about it, Pipes. I'm a good wingman. I'll make sure you find a winner," Joel says.
She stares into my eyes as she addresses Joel. "Sure."
Mal looks between the three of us. "What's up with you guys today?"
"I'll come." I run my hand through my hair, trying to play cool. No fucking way is Piper sleeping with some jackass who doesn't give a fuck about her.
"No thank you." She glares at me. "Joel and I have it covered."
Joel raises a brow. "You sure, Pipes? He's got the damaged hottie thing in spades. He'll attract all the hot chicks and you'll be left with your pick of guys in eyeliner."
She looks to Joel. "It's a free country. If Kit wants to go to the show, I can't stop him."
"You leaving now?" Mal asks.
She nods.
He motions come here to Piper. "Then give me a hug goodbye."
She does.
He whispers something in her ear.
She shakes her head as she steps back. Her eyes meet mine. They flare with that same hurt expression. "I'm leaving in five minutes. Whoever wants to come should get in my car." She spins on her heels and leaves.
Mal looks to Joel. "You know why she's this pissed?"
Joel's eyes meet mine. "Some idea."
"Make sure she doesn’t do something she'll regret." Mal nods goodbye to Joel. "I'm gonna talk to her." He nods goodbye to me then he's out the door.
Joel waits until the Strongs are out of earshot to move closer. "I can't believe it took me this fucking long to figure it out."
I say nothing.
"Did you fuck her?"
"No."
He cocks a brow. Not buying it. "But you want to."
"She's an attractive woman."
"Bullshit, Christopher."
I cringe at the sound of my full name.
"Something is up between you two. Something besides your cock." He stares into my eyes. "You've been miserable since the tour ended. And somehow she's competing with you for pissiest person in the room. What happened?"
Still, I say nothing.
"You kiss her?"
Nothing.
"Fuck, you did." He looks at me. "You touch her?"
"You really want details about what I did to Piper?"
"Yeah, but I understand this isn't the time." He shakes his head. "You make her come?"
I nod.
"She make you come?"
"No." Not yet.
"At least you were generous." He runs his hand through his sandy hair. "Fuck, Kit... how did you get from making her come to making her this pissed?"
"I left."
"You better fix this."
That I know.
What I don't know is how.
Chapter 15
Piper
I absorb none of the music. I completely ignore every guy Joel brings over to talk to me.
All night, my eyes stay glued to Kit.
He doesn't want to be with me, fine.
But this whole we shouldn't talk for a while thing?
No.
Fuck that.
Fuck him.
I hate that I still care about him.
I hate that I still want him.
I hate that I would gladly lose my virginity to him in the very dirty bathroom if he would lean close enough to ask.
After the show, I'm too mad to drive. I give my keys to Joel and demand the backseat. I can't think. It's dark and the air is warm and by the time we're parked on my block, it smells like salt.
"Thanks for driving." I get out of the car and wait for Joel to get out and hand over my keys.
My eyes stay on Kit. He's standing behind my car with this look on his face that screams I'm sorry.
It's only a look.
There are no words to accompany it.
No explanation.
No promises to make me come until I pass out.
Joel hands over my keys. He leans close enough to whisper. "You okay?"
"Stressed about finals." And about using this summer as a test-run for the rest of my life. I want to get another server job and go full throttle with auditions, to see if I feel like I can make it work. Of course, neither one of those concerns compare to how the way my heart is aching. How could Kit leave like that? How could he follow-up with we shouldn't talk like this for a while?
Joel looks to Kit. "You heading out?"
"In a minute." Kit's dark eyes find mine.
Understanding passes between us. He wants to talk.
I'm not sure I want to talk to him.
But I am sure I want Joel out of my business. "Yeah, I'll see you next Monday. Or maybe the Monday after. Either way." I nod goodbye and step into the house. I leave the door unlocked and I stay close enough I can hear the guys whispering.
Then Joel's car turns on and he pulls away.
Footsteps come closer to the door.
Kit pushes it open enough to step inside.
His eyes find mine. "Piper, I... I'm sorry."
"About making me... about what we did or about leaving after?"
"We can't do this."
No. That's not an explanation. "Fuck you."
He says nothing.
"You didn't even wait for me to get dressed before you left." I pull the door open. "I..." I don
't want him to leave. I want him to stay. I want him to be mine. But that isn't happening, and I hate him for leaving.
I hate the way I feel right now.
How could he do that?
I trusted him.
"You don't want to talk for a while." I step inside. "We're not talking. So you've got what you want."
He doesn't even fight me.
He just leaves.
I hate him for leaving.
I hate that I still fuck myself thinking about him.
Studying for finals is even more of a grind without my nightly chats with Kit. I'm not alone. Mal keeps me company when I need it, and leaves me alone to study when I need that. I love my brother, but it's not the same.
I hate not talking to Kit.
I hate how much I hate it.
I hate that I pull out my cell phone after every final, ready to text him. It's a reflex. I can't fight it.
After my last final, I get as far as tapping the message I'm done. Let's celebrate before I remember we aren't talking. Then I slide my phone into my pocket, drag my heels to my car, and drive home.
By the time I'm parked in front of our house, I'm ready to collapse.
But I can't do that.
Kit is sitting on our stoop. He looks as yummy as ever in jeans, motorcycle boots, and a black t-shirt. His leather jacket is laid out on the ground to his right. The takeout is to his left.
Fuck, I want to hold him, kiss him, mount him.
I hug my sweater instead.
He grabs the takeout bag and pushes himself to his feet. "Hey."
"Hey." There's no anger in my voice. Only hurt. But he's hurt too. His eyes are just as heavy with pain as mine are.
I don't forgive him.
But I'm still so fucking happy to see him.
Please hug me and kiss me and tell me we're done fighting.
Tell me you're done running off.
Tell me you want to be with me.
He motions to the bag. "Beef pho, spring rolls, and lemongrass stir fry. Hope you haven't forced a friend to try that dish yet."
"I haven't." It's afternoon and I haven't eaten much today—I'm always too nervous to eat before tests. My stomach growls. The lemongrass stir fry sounds like a strong contender for Piper's Favorite Vietnamese Dish. "Is that a bribe?"
"It's lunch."
"What if I ask you to leave?"
Dangerous Crush: A Rock Star Romance (Dangerous Noise Book 2) Page 12