Falling Sky

by Lisa Swallow

  “Will there be many girls at this… ‘after party’?” Memories of Danni-K flash across my mind.

  “People know I’m with you now.”

  The fact he doesn’t deny the place will be crawling with groupies almost sways me to stay. “I doubt that’d stop them trying.”

  “And they’d be wasting their time. Trust me.”

  In the early days after Dylan left, I tortured myself by watching the internet daily waiting to see him with a new girl. I never did. I don’t know what Dylan did on tour last year and I don’t want to. I keep telling him to leave the past where it is so I need to do the same. There’s a niggling insecurity remaining from the summer, of course, but I believe Dylan when I see the truth in his eyes. No relationship will work where trust is missing.

  I wind my fingers into his hair and draw his face back to mine. “I do,” I say against his lips.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  February 10th (Charlotte, NC)

  Sky

  Why I worried about the rock and roll excesses of touring with the world’s biggest band I have no idea. This is boring, tiring, and I want these next weeks over. I know I promised Dylan I’d be there for him, but this is the second week and I’m over this. My head spins with the monotony and even though Dylan looks brighter, this is exhausting him. I don’t go to his gigs anymore; instead, I use the time to write.

  Well, if I’m going to live life in a bestseller world, I may as well channel the experiences into something good. Dylan keeps trying to read what I’ve written, but I’m worried he’ll read too much into my words. I’m especially worried he’ll see himself in there.

  Usually, Dylan comes home straight after gigs, but some nights he hangs around longer. They’re his good nights, the days he remembers why he loves this life and why I know he couldn’t leave forever. Home. Such a weird name for our carousel of hotel rooms and suites.

  I’ve kept in touch with Tara, who requests an update every day, and keeps me in the loop about things happening in the life I left behind in Bristol. I’m careful what I tell her, memories of phone tapping scandals and thoughts of emails being intercepted worry me. I love her words of the ordinary I left behind, sharing gossip about old friends from school and raging about Tom, the love of her life. I was skeptical about this title for him at first, but the few times I’ve spoken to her, I hear the truth in her voice. Seems everyone is falling in love.

  Absently, I scroll through the rest of my emails, deleting the junk.

  The name of a sender jumps out from the screen.

  Lily Parker.

  What the hell?

  I debate whether to delete this straight away; where the hell did she get my email?

  No, she’s not intimidating me. I open the email.

 
  Why didn’t you believe me? How can you accept him? >

  Blinking at the screen, I delete the message. The carefully constructed jigsaw of pieces that join Dylan’s and my worlds isn’t complete yet. And this is one piece that has no place.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  February 15th (Richmond, VA)

  Sky

  The elevator doors close behind us, and I smooth my blue silk shirt again, the third time in as many minutes. Dylan leans against the side of the elevator, legs crossed at the ankles. He’s dressed down for the occasion, his grungy but sexy mix of faded t-shirt and hugging-in-the-right-places jeans dragging me to memories of my Dylan from Broadbeach. I itch to smooth his longer hair from his face so I can see his eyes more clearly but if I touch him, I’ll want to kiss him, and then… Well.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “I’m nervous. It’s okay for you seasoned professionals.”

  “Don’t say much to them if you don’t want to, I’ll do the talking.”

  “I don’t intend to.”

  Tina has oh-so-kindly arranged for a magazine to interview Dylan and me. Now that the fans accept our relationship is happening, they want to know more. Everything. The decision is made for us to fill in the gaps before the media does. I hate the idea, but also see why talking to them makes sense.

  Lost in thought, I catch a familiar glint in Dylan’s eye as he circles an arm around my waist.

  “You look good,” he says, his gaze trailing heat across the exposed part of my chest.

  “Oh.” I fasten a button on the blue blouse to cover myself up.

  “Um…” Dylan undoes it.

  “Um?” I ask, redoing the button.

  In a swift movement, he backs me against the wall, hand immediately sliding beneath my black skirt onto my bare leg. His warm fingers sneak up my inner thigh and I take a sharp breath, the sensation of his rough palm triggering heat not far from his fingers.

  “Don’t!” I hiss.

  “Have you ever been fucked in an elevator by a rock star?” he whispers, pressing me into the wall with his hips. His evident arousal does nothing to quell mine.

  “No, and I’m not starting today,” I mutter, despite certain parts of my anatomy disagreeing with my decision.

  “Don’t be boring, Sky.” Still pinning me to the wall, he slowly undoes the buttons on my blouse.

  I grab his hand. “Dylan Morgan!”

  “Sky Davis?”

  “I don’t think…” I don’t get to finish the sentence because Dylan’s mouth crushes mine, knocking my head back into the wall.

  I wriggle against him and when he laughs against my mouth, I nip his bottom lip. Dylan pulls away slightly and I relax, certain he’s going to back off. Instead, he grabs my backside and lifts me, winding my legs around his waist. The rough denim of his jeans scrapes my thighs, another signal to my body’s memories of Dylan. Before I can speak, his mouth is back on mine, capturing my tongue with his. Dylan runs a hand across my sex, through my cotton underwear and I curse the fact he’ll know I’m aroused when I’m telling him no.

  “Don’t be boring, summer Sky,” he whispers, sliding a finger beneath the edge of my underwear. I grasp onto Dylan’s hair as his fingers slide along my sex. “Fuck, you’re wet for me.” There are a hundred protests in my head but my hormones are interrupting my power of speech. Dylan’s hand placement isn’t helping and when he pushes a finger into me, I’m lost.

  “Shit, Dylan, we’re going to an interview, I can’t do this now.” I manage to moan out.

  His hot, heavy breath covers my face. “Your fault for being too fucking sexy.”

  “Can we indulge your fantasy later?” I breathe, watching the lit numbers descend as the elevator heads for its destination.

  “Are you sure?” He skins his thumb across my clit and I’m on the edge of being persuaded.

  “After. On the way back up. Dylan…”

  “Okay, but I’m not putting you down until you come.”

  What is it about Dylan that can turn me on almost at the click of his fingers with the slightest touch or one word? The unyielding strength of his chest, his freshly showered smell and the essence of Dylan Morgan surrounding me, I close my eyes and become aware of nothing but him and the spiralling heat inside, uncurling and spreading through my limbs. Dylan whispers in my ear all the things he’s going to do in the elevator on the way back, and I’m his.

  When the elevator doors open, Dylan brushes my shirt, smirking at me as I re-adjust my clothes. Thankfully, nobody is waiting outside the doors and I shakily follow Dylan into the corridor. He pauses, turns and appraises me with a darkened, annoyingly smug look.

  “Feel more relaxed now?” he asks, and then laughs as I smack him in the chest.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  February 20th (Boston, MA)

  Sky

  Another city, another hotel. No wonder Dylan feels swallowed up by his life sometimes. He comments how much easier touring is now than travelling the UK in the back of a van in the early Blue Phoenix days, but I can see how exhausted the band members get each day that passes.

  Every city we get to, every airport we pass through and every hotel we ar
rive at, fans wait for a glimpse of their idols. Some days, the guys chat to a couple, other times they’re too tired. Jem remains hidden behind his black cloud; most of the press wants to know about him and Liv until they see me in the entourage and their focus shifts. This annoys me but also sickens me - a girl’s death easily moved on from. I guess there aren’t many pictures to feature once the funeral is over and Dylan and I make a better photo opportunity.

  Some hotels, Blue Phoenix take up the whole of one floor with security posted. Others, like this one, are exclusive enough that we don’t need to worry. I prefer that; I feel less like I’m under guard in prison.

  This morning, Dylan’s working out while I work my way through the breakfast buffet selection. Feeling good about myself as I supplement the pastries with fresh fruit, I’m disappointed and surprised when Honey appears at the table.

  Our communication is still minimal and often holds snide remarks along the lines of ‘oh, you’re still here then?’ from her.

  Today, she’s dressed in designer gym gear but also wears full make-up and hair extensions, so I don’t think she’s graced the gym with her presence yet. She lowers herself into the chair next to me and places a stack of bridal magazines on the table. Oh God, no. Please don’t discuss the wedding with me.

  “I guess you’ll be at the wedding then?” she asks, scrutinising the contents of my plate.

  “I guess.” I shove a pastry into my mouth.

  “I mean, if you guys are still together.” She takes a slice of melon from my plate and eats delicately.

  I ignore the loaded comment. “When’s the wedding?”

  “May.”

  Three months. That’s longer than we’ve been back together. “Plenty of time to organise then?”

  “Well.” Honey flicks open one of the magazines and I tense. Why is she discussing this with me? “If you’re going to come, you need to co-ordinate. Obviously, you won’t be a bridesmaid but I’d like you in yellow to match.”

  I open my mouth to respond, but the intense concentration on Honey’s botoxed brow dissuades me. She continues to flick through the magazines, folding corners and occasionally sighing over wedding dresses. I sip my coffee and pray Dylan appears before she starts running through the whole list of plans.

  “Totally cute don’t you think?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Look at this gorgeous archway covered in pink roses; I’ll have matching petals carpeting the floor. When we finish saying our vows, two doves will fly off with our names strapped to their legs. I’m going to dye the doves pink, so they match everything else!” Her blissful expression suggests she’s imagining this monstrous state of affairs.

  “Mmm, great idea,” I lie.

  I catch sight of Liam at the edge of the restaurant, while he stands chewing on a nail as he watches. We meet gazes and he straightens, before heading over. I’ve never discussed Christmas with him, and whatever happened must be over with if two months later, his wedding plans are still on.

  Honey looks up as he approaches and giggles, sliding a hand with candy pink painted nails over the glossy magazine. “You can’t look at these! I have some wedding dress ideas in here.”

  Liam rubs his forehead. “Suits me. I haven’t got a clue about weddings. You helping out, Sky?”

  Honey and I both give false laughs. “I’m getting my instructions,” I tell him.

  “Oh, you too?”

  “Liam! You told me to organise all this.” Honey slaps his leg playfully.

  “Yeah.” Liam rolls his eyes at me and winks. “Life’s easier that way.”

  “Well, sweetheart, I’m going for my workout now. Then I do need to talk to you about some wedding issues.”

  “Issues? The wedding’s months away!” Liam looks as excited about the prospect of a wedding chat as I did.

  Honey ignores his protest as she stands and places her lips on his. “Ciao for now.”

  I despair inwardly and return to my breakfast. Liam sits opposite and plays with the sugar dispenser. Neither of us speaks. This is the first time I’ve been completely alone with Liam since the tour started, and the unsaid hangs thick between us. Liam winds his long hair into a ponytail. The colour fascinates me, an unusual red and one I’m sure some women would love. It shares the same unruliness as mine, but that suits him more than me.

  “How are you finding touring?” he asks.

  “Tedious.”

  “Yeah, I guess you don’t have much to do.”

  “Exactly.” Sure, I’m writing my book but unless I go to the gigs, I spend most evenings sitting alone hoping there’s no more emails from Lily. I’ve had two more and I’m on the verge of telling Dylan. Worried about the effect the news could have on him, I keep quiet though.

  Some days, we drive out places and I get to see a little of the cities we stay in, but with Blue Phoenix’s ever present fans and media, this isn’t always possible, especially in the smaller places.

  “About Christmas…” Liam looks at the table.

  “Liam, stop worrying, I haven’t said anything. I’ve no idea what’s happening in your life and don’t want to be involved.”

  “‘Kay.” He pauses. “What do you think of Honey?”

  Oh, crap. “We’re completely different people.”

  He smirks. “Very diplomatic.”

  “I don’t think she likes me much but that’s okay. I’ll survive the rejection.”

  “She’s different to most girls, yeah.”

  “And stunningly attractive.”

  “Oh, yeah. Girls like Honey used to look at me as if I was scum back in St Davids. But look at me now, and look at them married to the losers who still live there.”

  “I can imagine you weren’t their type.” I hold back my true thoughts about how I suspect Honey wouldn’t look twice at Liam if he were still one of ‘the losers in St Davids’.

  Liam chews on his lip. Is he alluding to the woman I saw? She was attractive, but not the sex kitten Honey.

  “What’s it like?” he asks.

  “What?”

  “Being normal, but with us guys? Nobody around Blue Phoenix usually is normal; I just wondered how weird we all seem to you.”

  “Do you mean ordinary and not fitting in?”

  “No! I mean do you think you can keep living the life with Dylan?”

  I frown. “That’s something we take one day at a time, Liam.”

  “You love him enough?”

  My neck prickles. “Are you doing a Jem here and accusing me of playing games?”

  “No, again! I can see how you guys feel about each other; I guess you’re lucky that you’re strong together.”

  I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with the conversation and I want to leave. One thing I hate is scrutiny of Dylan and me; outside scrutiny is bad enough, but from those around us, I feel judged. How much does he know about Lily?

  “I’m not comfortable talking about this,” I say and stand.

  Liam shrugs and curls his hand around the dispenser. “Funny how you get what you wanted and then realise you wanted something different all along.”

  “Now you sound like Dylan.”

  He laughs softly. “Yeah, I could learn a thing or two from him.” He winks at me. “Catch you later, summer Sky.”

  I walk away, considering how mismatched he and Honey are, and pushing away any inclination to make this my business.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  February 25th (Portland, ME)

  Sky

  I’m in the Jacuzzi, indulging my love of bubbles, books and wine when Dylan wanders in. Shirtless. I swear he walks around like this to flaunt how goddamn sexy he is, in case I’ve forgotten in the few hours since I last saw him naked. As always, my gaze seems to wander across his chest, down his abs and then my imagination into his jeans. He sits on the edge of the bath and runs his fingers across my cheek.

  “A definite no to coming to see me play tonight?”

  How do I tell him I can’t sit t
hrough any more Blue Phoenix concerts? They have two opposing effects on me. Either I get turned on by watching this hot as hell man performing on stage or I’m tired from a day of sex with the hot as hell man and the noise does nothing for me. The intense physical connection we share isn’t waning; the need to be skin on skin with Dylan takes over my day sometimes. I’m locked in a cross between a holiday and a bizarre road trip. Not having to worry about anything but travel sickness, the fantasy I live in with Dylan overtakes everything.

  “I’m tired,” I tell him, placing a wet hand over his.

  Dylan takes the book from me and leans in to kiss me. “If I didn’t have to go, I’d be in there with you.”

  “Who says I’d let you?”

  In response, Dylan opens my book and begins reading with an eyebrow cocked. “You prefer spending time with Chase. What the hell kind of a name is that?”

  I attempt to snatch the book from him, but he continues reading. “Do I have to worry you’ll trade me in for an internet billionaire? Rock stars not do it for you?” he teases.

  “You’ll do for now,” I say and smirk at him.

  “Is that right?”

  I sit forward and wrap my arms around his neck, his warm, dry chest meeting mine. The moment my soapy breasts brush his skin, Dylan covers my mouth with a hard kiss, roughly parting my lips. Then as suddenly as he started, he stops. Pulling back, he circles my nipple with his finger and fixes a heated gaze on me.

  “You don’t need fantasies, Sky. I’ll do whatever you want.” He pauses just long enough to hear my breathing. “And I’ve noticed the guys in your books also do exactly what they want to.”

  We watch each other in challenge, but I refuse to succumb to him. “Save your energy for tonight’s performance.”

  When the familiar Dylan sexy grin spreads, I realise what I’ve said. “Oh, I will. Once I’ve finished tonight’s gig.”

  His lips leave the promise behind his words on my face, breasts, and mouth before he disappears out of the bathroom. Exhaling, I sink under the water, surging with love, desire, and happiness.