by Franca Storm
I ignore her as I take care of the condom, dropping it in the trash can by my bed and fixing my pants. I throw open the bedroom door and leave without another word.
I storm into the kitchen, completely ignoring the fact that Mitch is sitting there wolfing down the jumbo-sized bag of chips in front of him. I grab a beer from the fridge, rip off the top and chug half of it.
“Fuck you, John!” What’s-Her-Name screams from the living room. A second later I hear the apartment door slam.
Mitch looks at me.
“What?” I snap. “What are you doing in here anyway?”
“I’m always hungry after a good fuck.”
“She’s in for the night?” I ask. I don’t remember the name of his girl either.
“Nope. Gone. She has an early class tomorrow,” he tells me. “What happened with you and Roxanne?”
Roxanne? So, that’s her name. “Nothing.”
“So she wasn’t pissed that you called out Nicki’s name when you were fucking then?”
“You heard that?”
“Yeah. You know how thin these walls are and she was loud, John. What’s going on, dude?”
“Going on?” I say casually as I chug more of my beer.
“Between you and Nicki?”
“Nothing.”
Mitch grins. “You want her.”
“Fuck you. You don’t know shit.”
He says something but I don’t hear it, because I’m distracted by my phone buzzing in my pocket. I fish it out and read the text. It’s from Nicki: One Last Breath—Creed. Oh shit.
Mitch snatches the phone out of my hand and reads the text before I can stop him. “What is it with you guys and your song title messages? What does this mean?”
I snatch it back from him and explain, “Think about the lyrics. She’s upset.”
“About Axel?”
“Kind of.” It’s more than that. “I have to go,” I say, putting the beer down on the kitchen counter and heading for the door.
“You might wanna take a shower before you go. You stink like Roxanne.”
“It’s not a booty call, asshole.”
“Fine. It’s your ass. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“She won’t care. We’re friends.”
“Sure. Friends always scream each other’s names when they’re fucking someone else.”
“It was an accident.”
God, that excuse even sounds dumb to me. Damn. Whatever. I’ve just had too much to drink; that’s all. It always happens after a gig. I’m always soaring on one hell of a high after a performance and it takes a lot to calm me down. That’s where the booze and sex come in.
Mitch starts laughing at me. I glare at him and then walk out.
“If it’s not a booty call, you might wanna put a shirt on!”
I growl inwardly and ignore his advice. I know what I’m doing for fuck’s sake. I haul open the door and walk down the hall to the apartment at the far end. Nicki’s apartment.
During our first year of college we all lived in the dorms. Chloe still lives on campus. She’s part of some sorority. I have no idea which one. I never did understand all that shit. Mitch and I found this great apartment off campus and hooked Nicki up with the one remaining bachelor in the building. It’s been great having her close for songwriting purposes. While Mitch and Chloe just play, Nicki and I are the collaborative force behind the band.
I knock gently on the door. Nicki hates aggressive noises. I take a deep breath and try to push Mitch’s comments out of my mind.
A moment later the door opens. Oh fuck. I swallow hard at the sight of her. She’s wearing tiny blue pajama shorts and a matching tank top with no bra. The material is so thin that I can make out her nipples underneath. Her hair is all mussed up from lying in bed. She’s so hot. Shit. Stop it. What the fuck is wrong with you?
I force my gaze back to her face. Her deep blue eyes are big and wide and flashing with fear. It’s then that I know for sure that she’s had another nightmare. Whenever something jogs the memory of that awful day a few years ago, she suffers from horrifying nightmares and is afraid to fall asleep. And I suspect what happened between her and Axel tonight did just that. It’s why she never lets herself get involved with anyone—why she normally doesn’t let anyone touch her in a sexual way. She can’t handle it.
She steps aside and lets me in. I lock the door behind me and take her hand. She silently leads me into the apartment, towards her bed in the corner of the room. She climbs in and I join her. I pull her against my chest and hold her, stroking her hair.
“It’s okay. You can sleep now. I’m right here, sweetheart,” I whisper softly in her ear.
I feel her relax against me. “Thank you,” she murmurs, her hot breath warming my chest.
“Always. Sleep now.”
Chapter 3
~Nicki~
I open my eyes slowly. My head is thundering with the aftermath of my very bad decision to drink one too many cheap frat house beers last night. Damn, what a mistake. But I’d been so nervous after Chloe had thrown me into Axel Craven last night, that I’d just kept knocking back plastic cup after plastic cup until I’d lost my inhibitions. And that takes a lot to achieve. It’s pretty deep-rooted for me. It sucks. But it’s just the way I am.
It takes me a moment to get my bearings. And that’s when I realize John is pressed tightly against me, his arms wrapped around me. One is snaked around my waist and the other is…oh my God…on my right boob. My first reaction is to bat his hand away. But I stop myself. It feels so…warm. Nice, actually. I glance at his tattoo on his left upper arm. It’s a Gibson Les Paul guitar with the words Rock ‘n’ Roll encircling the neck. He’s had that one since before I’ve known him. He got it when he was a teenager around the same time he got the actual guitar, which he still uses to this day. He has another one on his chest, over his heart. His incredibly ripped chest and toned abs. Just like the rest of his body, it’s the result of years of boxing when he was in high school. He’s incredibly cut—all hard muscle. His body is definitely drool-worthy. Well, it would be if I was looking at him in that way. But I’m not. We’re friends; strictly friends.
Back to the tattoo…a gray wolf. He got that when I got the black phoenix on my right arm. He told me it represents fierce determination. And that is totally John Kingston. He never lets anything stand in his way. That can’t be seen anywhere more so than the way he is with the band. He’s the commander-in-chief. The leader. The front man. The manager. He wants us to make it big. He’s dreamed of nothing else since he first picked up a guitar as a kid. He cares about the band and our music above all else. Nothing will ever trump that.
He shifts suddenly in his sleep and I gasp as I feel his erection press into my butt.
“John!” I whisper harshly.
He doesn’t stir so I slap his arm.
“No. Back to sleep,” he murmurs, entwining his legs with mine so that his feet are no longer hanging out of the bed. My bed is queen-size, but it’s oddly short in length and for someone like John who’s over six-foot tall, it’s really not long enough. I’m a foot smaller than him so I don’t have that problem.
Him shifting his legs has the effect of his thing pressing more tightly against my butt. It’s so…hard! Oh God! This is too much.
“Your…thing is…misbehaving,” I struggle to utter. Okay, this is awkward.
He chuckles and moves back a little so his erection is no longer touching me. But he doesn’t remove his arms. And part of me doesn’t want him to.
“My thing, huh? You mean; my cock,” he teases.
I flinch at his bluntness. He must feel it, because he whispers in my ear, “It’s just morning wood, Nicki. It doesn’t mean anything. Relax.”
The ridiculousness of the situation hits me and I laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
I turn into him. “The fact that you slept in your leather pants. Who does that?”
“Hey, I was trying to be a gentleman
.”
I press my finger to his lips and tell him, “I’m not done.”
He grins against my finger. And then his tongue darts out and licks it. I pull back, startled. “John! Disgusting!” I chastise him as I wipe my finger on the duvet.
“Disgusting?”
“Yeah, I have no idea where that tongue’s been.”
“Just in some groupie’s pussy.”
I launch myself at him and slap his chest.
“Ow! Fuck, Nicki! I was kidding!”
He wrestles with me until he’s on top of me, straddling me and pinning my hands down at my sides so I can’t slap him again. “Are you done?” he asks, smiling down at me.
I nod and laugh.
“Good girl,” he says, but doesn’t release me.
I smile up at him. “Thanks for staying with me…again. Did I interrupt anything? If I did, I’m sorry, I—”
He releases my hands and presses his finger to my lips this time. “Shh. It doesn’t matter what the hell I’m doing. If you need me, I’m here. You know that. Okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” His striking hazel eyes flick down my body. It’s only a second’s glance but I catch it. And then he zones in on the right side of my neck for some reason. I see his jaw stiffen, his eyes narrow. He suddenly climbs off me and returns to his side of the bed.
“What?” I ask, confused by his sudden change in mood.
“Nothing,” he says as he climbs off the bed, his back to me.
“John. What?”
He turns back to me and points to my neck. “You should cover that up. If he sees it, he’ll think you’re proud of it and want to belong to him.” He notices my confusion and adds, “A hickey.”
I slap my hand to my neck. “Oh my God,” I breathe, embarrassed. “I didn’t realize.” It takes a moment for what he just told me to sink in. “Belong to him? What the hell does that mean?”
He looks away and runs his fingers through his mussed up shaggy brown hair and tells me, “Guys like him—members of that frat—mark their women to let all other guys know that you’re off limits to everyone but him. It’s a mark of possession.”
I can’t help it. I burst out laughing. “Come on, John. You’re screwing around, right?”
“No,” he says harshly, finally looking at me and roughly rubbing the days’ old stubble on his chin in obvious frustration.
“You make them sound like animals.”
“They are animals, Nicki. And Axel is the worst of them. At least Blake shows some restraint, some decency.” His tone is harsh and angry. I can see him fighting himself, trying to rein in his infamous temper.
“Why are you so mad? It’s ridiculous. The whole thing. Just alpha-male posturing. Who cares?”
“I do!”
He has my full attention now. He cares? The look in his eyes tells me that there’s more to that statement than purely platonic intention. Oh my God. What is going on here? Does he…does he like me? No, impossible. This is John. My best friend. My confidant. My protector. “John?” I press.
“Look, I need to take a shower. See you in class,” he says, tersely.
Before I can say anything else, he storms to my apartment door. He stops, his back to me and says in a pained whisper, “You deserve better.”
And then he walks out, leaving me staring after him in confusion and disbelief. What on earth?
Chapter 4
~John~
As I make my way across campus to my final class of the day—History of 20th Century Europe—I stop to send Nicki a text. I forced myself to focus on nothing but classes all morning. A few hours of nothing but simple, straightforward thoughts. All directed towards law. All the classes in my program are so damned involved that I couldn’t think about anything else even if I wanted to. If your mind wanders just for a couple of minutes during a lecture, you find yourself lost and unable to understand the rest of the stupid thing. I’m speaking from experience here.
But now that I’m on my way to the auditorium on the opposite side of campus for my final class—an elective that Nicki and I took together—I know I need to smooth things over a little before I get there or this is gonna be one hell of an awkward hour.
I text: Creep—Radiohead.
I’m basically telling her that I acted like an asshole—or a creep—and I’m sorry. It doesn’t take her long to text back with: Forget it. See you soon.
I sigh with relief. Lucky she’s so easygoing. She’s the last person I wanna be in a fight with. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut this morning. It wasn’t my business. But seeing Axel’s mark on her made me lose my shit.
Why? It’s ridiculous. She can fool around with whoever she wants. It’s not my business. Unless she’s in trouble, then it becomes my business.
The thoughts running through my head, making me insane last night, scared the shit out of me. And the fact that I said her name when I was balls deep in some other girl? In that moment, I wanted it to be Nicki instead. Shit, I’m messed up. My reaction to that hickey on her neck this morning was the wakeup call I needed, letting me know that I need to get a grip. This can’t happen. Nicki is off limits. Always off limits.
The fallout if we get together could destroy the band. And I can’t have that. The band is everything to me and I won’t let anything happen to it.
And let’s face it; Nicki being with me is a bad idea for her. I’m not exactly a gentleman. In all honesty, I’m an asshole. A player. And I could never treat Nicki like that. I don’t give a crap about the women I fuck. It’s just wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. And she deserves better than that. She’s a virgin. I’m pretty sure the furthest she’s ever gone is that kiss with Axel last night. She’s innocent. Really innocent. And she needs to stay like that.
I take a deep breath, feeling much better now that I’ve worked through my crazed thoughts. Back to normal now. Last night was just a one-off mind-fuck of an experience.
I push open the doors to the auditorium. It’s still pretty empty, because I’m ten minutes early for once. I easily spot Nicki sitting in the corner, right at the back. It’s her usual seat in every class—the most hidden position she can possibly find. The only time she’s comfortable being front and center is when we’re performing. Then she loses herself and gives in to the music; to the real her. The only time she truly opens up completely.
I’m on my way up when I see him walk up to her.
Axel-fucking-Craven.
He says something to her and she laughs. She slides over one seat and he takes her former place in the corner. Right next to her. I amend my earlier statement: she can be with anyone except him. I hate that fucker. He’s the epitome of every negative aspect of the jock stereotype. And he’s the greatest cock-block to me. Every time he’s around, he gets in my way, tries to fuck me over and steal my pussy for the night.
Is that why he’s hitting on Nicki; getting so attached to her? To get to me. No. Stop it. Even for me, that’s way too egotistical, verging on full-on egomaniac actually. Nah, it’s just a coincidence.
“Let it go,” I murmur under my breath as I reach them. “Hey,” I say lightly to Nicki as I take a seat on her opposite side and pull out my notepad and pen.
“Hey, how was your morning?” she asks, smiling sweetly at me.
“The usual. Yours?”
“Good. I went back to bed, nursed the hangover from last night and I feel a lot better now.”
Right, because this 2pm class is her only one for today. She was smart when she made her class schedule this year. Only one class on Mondays. I, on the other hand, was a goddamn idiot. I’ve had back-to-back classes all day since 8am. And I’d woken up in her bed with one hell of a hangover too. I cured it with another beer. Desperate times, right?
“Hey, man,” Axel greets me.
I tense at the sound of his voice. I see Nicki looking at me nervously and I force myself to respond back with a nod. Best I can do, asshole. And more than you deserve.
She smiles
at me; a silent thank you. I notice that she’s wearing her denim jacket with the collar turned up—hiding the hickey he gave her. So she took my advice then? Good. She’s wearing a skirt with leather boots that stretch right up to her thighs. Oh God. I quickly look away. Axel, on the other hand, doesn’t. But his eyes are drawn to her perky little tits. I grit my teeth and begin counting to a ridiculously high number in my head just to prevent myself from doing something here. Don’t you dare look at her, you asshole!
“John, did you know that Axel joined Jim’s boxing gym?” Nicki says suddenly.
What the fuck? “He did, huh?” I say casually. “When?”
“Today,” Axel answers with a victorious smile. “Your uncle’s a real nice guy.”
“He can be,” I respond, coolly. “Nicki is his star. All the guys there watch her back. They’re very protective over her.”
“John,” Nicki scolds me.
Yeah, that warning was a bit heavy-handed, wasn’t it? But it’s true. My uncle and the guys at the gym treat her like a princess. Of course, she hates it, because she’s a tough little thing. She’s even argued her way into sparring with several of the guys from time to time. And she’s won every time. That’s how good she is. I spent my life at that boxing gym in high school. I was there pretty much every night at one point. My dad had encouraged it. He thought it was just what was needed to teach a young man discipline. And it was. Four years ago, after the awful night of the attack, I took Nicki there. She wanted to learn to defend herself; to fight. I thought it would help to rebuild her self-esteem after what that asshole of a stepdad did to her. Four years later, she’s still there every other day, between classes and the band. The band has taken up so much of my time that I’m only there once or twice a month now. But Nicki is obsessed.
“Blake gave you a tour?” I ask Axel.
Thanks to me, Blake has been a member of my uncle’s gym for a year now. He wanted somewhere to blow off some steam so I told him about it last year when we were partnered on a law assignment.
“Yeah,” he answers.
“You knew Nicki hung out there?” Of course he knew. He probably asked Blake about her after she took off last night.