by Flite, Nora
How could my heart handle this? The blood in my body was certainly magma by now. Lifting my eyes, I tried to stare at just his chin. Maybe then I could concentrate. No, now all I see are his lips. His fucking smirking lips. I spoke to them anyway. “You're going too far around me. I'm not a fucking idiot. I don't know what your game is, but...”
There was no way to prepare for his hands on me. They gripped my upper arms, pushed me into the wall and left me stunned. “I don't know my game, either,” he whispered. “I only know the prize.”
The prize the prize the fucking prize.
I was the prize.
My vision was constrained on his face. The hard edges of his teeth, the part of his smile that wanted to cut me open. Drezden had made his goal so overtly clear, it left me wondering why I'd thought to ask. He was a man with no fear. Nothing held him back.
And he wanted to have me.
“Wait.” My single word was fragile. I tried again, bolder. “Hold on, I'm not your prize.”
“No,” he agreed. Strong fingers slid down the insides of my arms, taking my strength as they crawled. “Not yet.”
I couldn't handle this. There were many things I considered myself; smart, capable.
Strong.
No one had ever walked into my world and toppled it so easily. Why was Drezden so good at it? What made him invade my mind and body with quick-silver speed? Cotton swaddled my brain. My tongue was useless, it held no arguments.
I found myself on the verge of collapsing, or running, or slipping away mentally. It felt like I'd been cornered by a rabid tiger. He was a fucking man-eater, and had said himself he wanted me. Didn't he realize I wasn't able to cope with that?
Maybe I wasn't as tough as I thought. Maybe my act was backfiring. He thinks I'm tough enough to take him on. He's wrong, doesn't he know he'll destroy me? Drezden Halifax was an artist, a passionate being full of fire and acid and pure stars. He was a star. A fucking poet, as Sean had said.
And I was no one.
More than that... I'm a fucking virgin. Rockstars aren't virgins. Holy shit, he'll leave me in pieces. We're on entirely different levels. Different worlds!
I'd fade away, broken, if he tried to consume me.
He bent down, all lips and smokey smirks. Before I thought about it, I kicked out. My knee landed solidly in his stomach, thudding on his sculpted abs. Grunting, he let me go, looking at me incredulously. “What the fuck was that for?” he growled.
I felt... really stupid. “You were—the look in your eyes, I just...”
“Just say no next time! Or stop! Fuck, Christ.” Rubbing his belly, he looked me up and down. And, with just a sideways sneer, my world tumbled again. I hadn't injured him, he wasn't even upset. “You really don't want me near you, do you?”
Guilt dug in with sharp fangs. “No! It's not—” Stop, stop talking! “This just isn't a good idea, for either of us.”
“Why isn't it a good idea for me?”
My lips parted, hesitating. I didn't know why it was bad for him at all. “Fine. I'm being selfish, okay? This is a bad idea for me, for my career.” His grimace was brief, but I saw it. “If it goes bad between us... the band might not recover.” I'm the newest, if it gets weird they'll cast me aside and get a new member. I need this too much. Sean's face, his tone, commanding me to realize what an opportunity this was... he filled my head until my skull twinged. My brother knew what how important this was. He'd encouraged me for a reason.
I couldn't bare letting him down when things inevitably went sideways.
Drezden filled my world again. He slid up, chest brushing mine with his nearness. I gasped, then clenched my jaw. His hands glided down to hold my hips in a vice. “So you have thought about us.”
“No!” Yes. “Never!” Since I listened to you sing during practice.
No. Even beyond that.
I'd had a crush on Drezden Halifax since the first time I'd played his CD. He'd kept me company before he knew my name or my face.
Now, that very man was so close I could rub my nose on his if I just bent forward. “Tell me, Lola.” He sighed, touch claiming my waist, pulling up the shirt I still wore from the photo shoot. “Why are you fighting this? I could tell last night in the tub, you wanted me.”
Images of his hard body holding me down in the porcelain bed flooded me. “I just told you!” My voice was rising, gaining volume with my confused energy. “I don't want to fuck up the band!”
“I thought you were tough.” He didn't shout over me. He didn't need to. The texture in his throat was raw and wet and begged me to hear him say anything. I was addicted to his voice. “You think I'm not worried about the band?” He tugged me, jammed me back on the wall so that my bones vibrated. “You think I don't care? Lola, it's not about that! It's about being willing enough, strong enough, to take a god damn risk!”
I'd lost the ability to move. Barely standing, his hands were all that kept me on my feet. Take a risk? I knew what it meant to take risks. Sean accused me of not being ready for this band. He goaded me into going to the audition, made me see I was going to miss an opportunity otherwise.
But this wasn't the same thing.
Was it?
There was noise in the hallway. Drezden released me, backing up and heading for his microphone. I stayed against the wall, looking terrified on the outside. If my mind could be pulled out, put on display, it would have looked worse.
Colt tipped back a cup, the sound of Porter's grumbling following him into the room. “I don't care if it was the last of the coffee,” the drummer said. “You had three fucking cups, I deserve one—” He halted, spotting me where I stood.
Oh, shit.
Licking my lips slowly, I searched for the ability to speak. I had to look conspicuous with my wild eyes, red cheeks and heavy breathing. Firm nipples made summits through my shirt.
“Lola,” he said carefully, “you alright?”
I didn't answer in time. Porter bumped into the drummer, the two stumbling as coffee splashed. “Dammit, Colt! Why would you stand right behind the curtain?”
“Why would you walk into me!” he shouted, wiping at his shirt.
In the fray, I pushed off the wall. I hoped no one touched it; the surface had to feel like lava from my body heat. Threading around the edge of the room, I burst through the curtain and escaped before anyone dared stop me.
I knew only one set of eyes was on my back as I left the room. Drezden's green depths marked me like they were cutting a tattoo into my shoulders.
I need air, I just need air. In the aisle, I was alone. Brenda had joined up with her own bus, where the crew who kept things moving stayed, after we'd picked up the pizza. The driver had slid a flimsy sheet over the nose of the bus, giving himself some privacy as he played a soft murmur from the radio.
Taking a seat far from the back, I cracked one of the tinted windows. Crisp air poured in, stinging my face wonderfully. The world outside flew by like a painting on rails. Mountains, cerulean skies and clouds so thick you could have held them.
That was when I realized where we were.
We'd crossed into Colorado. That means we'll be arriving at the venue by... I dug my phone out, looking at the time. Was it really already six in the evening? Tomorrow morning. I can't believe it. Everything with Drezden was fading in the wake of my reality.
Soon, I was going to see the place I'd be playing my first show. My first very real, very actual show. Holding my phone close, I started to type a message to Sean. He's the only person I can talk to about this. He'd understand the elation and sickness boring deep into my flesh.
'Hey,' I typed to him. 'We'll be arriving soon. I might piss myself.'
Pressing the button to send it, I waited impatiently. My heart beat once, twice, then fifteen times before the device buzzed. Sean's words displayed themselves on my blinking screen.
'Get used to that feeling.'
Smiling helplessly, I tucked my phone away. I liked to think he was right. I was sure
I wanted him to be. Could this really be happening? Me, Lola Cooper, going to play on stage for thousands of people.
Drezden's face entered my head. It was in my heart, too; that smile and how pained he'd sounded when we'd talked. He wants me to take a risk. But...
Not every risk can be worth it.
Watching the beautiful landscape roll by outside wasn't enough to brush away the burst of guilt in me. Drezden had done something, grown something inside of me. A piece that throbbed and cried and begged for him. A piece that wanted me to take the fucking risk he asked me to.
My hand traced the shape of my phone.
How could he ask me to risk everything, when I wasn't ready to lose it all?
Chapter Three.
Drezden
The sky outside was pale blue, but I'd been awake since it had started to crack like an egg with lines of yolk-orange. Sleeping was even harder this go around. Lola plagued what bits of dreams I scooped up. Always, she dangled out of my reach. I'd grab for her, then wake up in a sweaty mess.
When dawn had come, I'd given up trying.
We'd driven through the night. Dressed for the day in broken-in jeans and a long sleeved white sweater, I settled onto a bus seat and just... watched. Denver trickled by in all its glory.
I'd never played in Colorado before.
Once, when I was younger, I saw the Wingless Harpies play at the Fillmore. I'd gone with my father, back when he'd been drinking himself to death, but before he'd started using me as a target for his impotent rage.
I cupped my lower back, phantom pain burning.
Now I'm here, playing on stage. It should have filled me with pride. Instead, I just had a twinge of anxiety. I wouldn't allow myself to feel happy with anything until the show went without a hitch. Then I could allow myself some credit.
Everything has to go perfectly. I peered at Lola when she pushed through the curtain across the bus. If it goes as well as I wish, she'll have everything she could want.
And I'll start to lose her even quicker.
She saw me, froze up like I was a ghost. Rubbing the corner of my nose, I turned away. It was a mistake to let Lola into the band. No, I admonished myself. She's perfect for the band. She's what we need. It just meant that letting her blossom would send her away like dandelion puffs on the wind.
Unless I can get to her first. If I could curl my palm around her, her floating seeds, then it wouldn't matter. She could bloom, but I would catch her before she flitted away. Before she floated right into the arms of someone else.
Remembering her flash of distress when I'd cornered her yesterday sent rickets down my body. I'd been so close to kissing her. I'd only resisted when I heard her argument. She was worried about the band?
No, she's worried about herself.
I wished for a way to make her see that taking the risk, diving into the deep pit of desire and decadence and sin with me, was worth it.
There might not be a way. The seat beneath me suffered my clawed fingers. No. I'll find one.
“Alright,” our driver shouted, “I'm pulling into the parking lot behind the Fillmore. Security should keep people out of the area, but it's pretty open, so just be aware.”
Being mobbed didn't scare me. Twisting, I found Lola watching me. In a ripple of black hair, she stared out the window again. I don't want the fans or media to scare her. The rational part of me knew she needed to see it, to handle it on her own. Welcome to being a rockstar, I thought cynically.
Colt and Porter joined us as the bus parked. It was early enough that I didn't expect many people to be crowding the venue. Eagerly I climbed from the bus, inhaling the fresh air.
There were cars and tour buses all around; other bands and crew for the show. Small carts owned by the Fillmore were parked in the lot, the scent of bitter coffee and grease hitting me hard. Before I could follow after Porter and Colt to get something, Brenda appeared to block us. “Hey! You're awake, good. I need to go over everything for tonight.”
“After.” Brushing by her, I stalked towards a muffin that had my name on it. “I need to eat.” Her hand grabbed my shoulder. For a second, I thought about shoving her aside. Instead, my feet paused on the cement. One eye looked at her. “Can I eat and talk? I'm pretty talented.”
Brenda jammed a paper bag in my face. “I took the liberty of grabbing you guys some donuts. Now will you come with me?”
The rest of my band crowded in, eager for the food. Colt inhaled deeply, pretending to be an animal. He even went so far as to bark a few times. “Tell me where you need me to stand, I'm all ears. And mouth. Fuck, just give me a donut, please.”
Squeezing the bridge of my nose did little for my growing migraine. “Okay, okay. Lead on, Brenda.”
She took us through a back door of the Fillmore. Traversing a tight hallway, she settled on a door that was plastered with a 'staff only' sign. There were people running all over, some with clipboards, others with headsets as they spoke softly.
The show wasn't until five, but everyone was in gear to be prepared.
Inside the room, Brenda put the bag on a table. Porter and Colt ripped it open immediately. “Have a seat, guys. I've got details to give out and need you all to listen.”
Reaching for a fat, glossy Boston cream, I settled in and kicked up my feet. Brenda shot me a look, not commenting. The baked good was fucking delicious, sweet filling coating my tongue. I had it half finished before Lola even picked a simple glazed one for herself.
We ate while Brenda covered the table in paperwork, finger jabbing as she spoke. “I've put you all up in the Ramada tonight. Here are your keycards, room info, the whole lot.” Passing out the hard chunks of plastic, she looked me in the eye. “We roll out tomorrow morning, the bus will stay here to keep the fans from mobbing the hotel. I'll send a car. If you need anything, just call.”
The meaning in her voice wasn't lost on me. Glancing at Lola, I finished my donut. Don't worry, I won't let anyone mess with her tonight. There won't be a repeat of that.
Porter grabbed another snack, crumbs spilling. “What time do we need to be here?”
“You're on at seven, so be here by four the latest for sound check.” Her smile spread, fixed on Lola. “Here, take a look. These are being plastered all over the Fillmore website, out in our emails, our personal site, and every social media outlet we have our claws in.” She slid a thick folder across the table.
Lola eyed it, uncertainty turning her pretty mouth into a knot. It only got worse when she opened the folder, revealing the glossy prints. “Oh, holy shit.”
Holy shit indeed.
The photos from yesterday were stunning. Lola was a vision, the blue of her eyes made even crisper by saturation. She was poised in front of the bus window, lashes lowered to make a canopy. Ruby lips quirked on one edge, a smile that contained too many things. Things I knew I'd need to taste to start understanding.
Shifting in my chair, I fought down the surge of arousal. I would have to get a copy of those pictures.
“Well,” Brenda prompted, “what do you think? Good, right?”
Sliding her hand over the prints, Lola looked up. “It doesn't look anything like me.”
Brenda rolled her eyes, pulling the folder back. “Sure it does! It's just doctored up some. That's normal, everyone does it.”
Doubtful, Lola poked at the other half of her donut. “If you say so.”
The rest of the meeting was a blur. I was too busy staring at the girl I was so addicted to. Letting Brenda ramble, I tuned out for the first time in my years of singing professionally. Normally, I was keen to hear the facts. It kept problems from happening.
I hated problems.
Now, I was twitching my boot-toe over my crossed ankles. Each movement matched my heart. It thumped to a tune, a song that had been forming for two days now. Lola was a lyric. I wanted to say her name over and over until I owned her like I did all of my music.
Seeing her sulking did things to me I didn't like. I wanted all of he
r reactions to be caused by me, not discomfort from Brenda or being part of the band.
When Brenda waved at us to leave, I shrugged out of my daze like it was a heavy jacket. Porter and Colt were talking, about what I didn't know.
Our group started to head for the exit. Lola was dragging her feet, lost in thoughts more sodden than mine. Wishing to erase her gloom, an idea hit me. My fingers snapped out, curling firmly around her wrist. “I want to show you something.”
Under my touch, her veins rippled. She froze on the spot. “What?”
Porter and Colt turned back, expecting us to be following. I gave them a tiny nod. “Go ahead. I want to give Lola a look inside.”
Understanding spread over them, bafflement turning into grins. “Sure,” Porter said. “We'll meet you at the hotel.” When they showed us their backs, I tugged Lola further into the hall.
She came reluctantly, tension in her steps. “A look inside, why?”
I want to see you smile. Of course I said no such thing. Setting my jaw, I led her deeper into the Fillmore. The halls were tunnels, we were explorers, and I knew where the treasure was.
Together, we broke out into the main room of the building. I'd seen the stage before. When I was a child, my dad had slipped us into the upper levels to view the band even better. Now, I gazed upon a wide room, staff charging around as they organized wires and lights.
Next to me, Lola gasped. The sound skipped right to my center. I still held her wrist, and for a heartbeat, I almost linked our fingers. Releasing her, I gestured with my head. “How's it look?”
Those glossy lips curled; her answer was pure. “Beautiful.”
No. It's your smile that's beautiful.
I could have stayed there for hours.
“I'm actually standing here.” Lola was speaking hushed. She, too, felt the moment in its entirety, and worried about shattering it. “Tonight I'll be playing music in front of thousands of people.”
Peering at her hip, I watched her hands clench. “Does that scare you?”