Hard Rock Crush

by Athena Wright

  The amused smile on Liam's face could have been considered condescending, but the glint in his eyes told me something different. He liked that I was boasting. He liked that I was confident.

  He bent forward, putting his mouth to my ear so I could hear him over the noise of the club.

  "I'm proud of you," he said. "You're really strong up there."

  I took in a slow, shaky breath. Not because of lips brushing my skin. Not because of a hand wandering from my back to my hip. I was enjoying the physical sensations, yes, but that wasn't the reason I was so taken aback.

  It was the words that were important.

  Liam Knight thought I was strong.

  The faintest sensation of tears threatened to burn the back of my eyes. I refused to let them fall. I refused to let him know how much those words meant to me.

  It shouldn't have affected me that much. I was Cerise Moreau. I was the co-founder and lead singer of up-and-coming, soon-to-be hit rock band Cherry Lips. I was a fucking rock star.

  And yet something inside of me, some small broken piece of me, began to mend itself. Sharp fragments began stitching themselves together.

  "I should probably get ready," I said. "We're on next." Even I could hear the hesitation, the reluctance in my voice. "Will you be sticking around after the show?"

  "I don't normally," he said.

  "Oh."

  "But maybe this time I will." He winked at me. "I'm going to start shoving my way to the front. I want a spot front and center for this performance."

  I watched him disappear back into the crowd. Women everywhere threw lust-filled looks in his direction.

  I brutally stamped down on any hints of jealousy threatening to take hold of me.

  I headed to the far end of the club and climbed the stairs to go backstage, pushing through the doors. The bodyguard didn't give me a second look. The rest of my band members stood off to the side behind the curtains, waiting for the sign to take the stage. The opening act had filed out and our instruments were already set up. I had almost missed my cue.

  My thoughts should have been on my upcoming performance, but I couldn't stop thinking about Liam being out there in the audience, watching me.

  "Do you hear that?" My brother Gael, Cherry Lips's bassist, cocked his head towards the audience and cupped his ear in a comically exaggerated motion. "They're calling for us."

  I turned my wandering thoughts from Liam to the crowd. Gael was right. The audience was cheering and chanting. Chanting for Cherry Lips.

  Elation filled my chest. My veins began to buzz the way they always did before a performance. Our fans were out there, waiting for us. We were going to give them the show of their lives.

  One of the crew members nodded, giving us our cue to take the stage.

  I closed my eyes. Deep breath in through the nose. And out though the mouth. Again. Then again.

  I opened my eyes.

  I was ready.

  Throwing my shoulders back and exuding confidence, I walked toward the dark stage. I grabbed my guitar with one hand from a waiting tech and I swung it around my shoulders.

  I scanned the audience. I wanted to take a look at the faces of the people who so adored me.

  I paused.

  Off to the side, near the front of the pit but close to backstage, stood Liam. He was speaking to a bodyguard, his lips moving silently to my ears.

  But his eyes were on me.

  My heart jumped a quick beat. Then another. I almost missed my cue for the first song.

  But I was a professional. I quickly and smoothly returned my attention to the stage, intending to put Liam out of my mind for the rest of the night. As long as I didn't look to the side, I could do that.

  We finished our performance without any mishaps. The band didn't notice anything was off.

  Before we left the stage, we threw guitar picks, water bottles, drumsticks, and other tokens to the audience. It was an ego boost, watching people fight over who got to leave with my guitar pick.

  As I left the stage, I rubbed at my wrist.

  "Is it bothering you again?" my brother asked.

  "A little."

  "We can always try to find someone else—"

  "I'll be fine," I said. "We don't need any more members for the band. We're good the way we are. I'm just a little overworked."

  "There's nothing wrong with hiring a session guitarist to go on tour with us," Gael replied.

  "Can we not fight about this now?"

  Gael put his arm around my shoulders and tugged me close. "Isn't everything always a fight with you?"

  Before I could push my brother away, Nathan called out for him, getting his attention. With one last concerned look, Gael took off to join our bandmate.

  Maybe my brother wasn't one hundred percent wrong. Maybe it wouldn't be bad to have someone else play guitar while I sang. I'd be able to have more fun running around on stage if I didn't have to worry about playing. But the band dynamic was great the way it was. I didn't want, or need, anyone else coming in and ruining that.

  Now that the performance was over, I made my way back down the stairs, to the pit. A small glimmer of hope sparked inside me. I didn't want to get my hopes up, but maybe…

  I pushed through the set of doors. The bodyguard nodded at me. The audience was slowly making their way to the exit. I scanned the room, looking for wavy brown hair. Nothing.

  Disheartened, I returned to the backstage. Gael waved at me.

  "Nate says we're heading up to that VIP lounge to party," he called out to me. "You joining us?"

  "I will in a minute," I said.

  First I needed to find the artist lounge and change out of my sweat dampened clothes.

  The backstage of the club was like a maze, but since we'd played here a few times, I knew where to go. I maneuvered my way through the chaos, deftly avoiding crew members and equipment. I reached the closed door with a placard announcing it was the artist lounge.

  I expected to find the room empty of people, with a few sofas, tables and dressing room stands, along with bottles of water and some snacks for the band members before the show.

  I put my hand on the door, opening it.

  I took in a sharp breath.

  Liam stood in the middle of the room.

  I stopped, frozen in the doorway.

  The bodyguards and staff had let him through. They must have known who he was, just as I had.

  He was waiting for me.

  "You were great out there," Liam said. He quirked a half-smile, as if to say great wasn't the word he'd planned on using.

  My hearted thumped madly. "Thanks," I replied numbly.

  Liam scanned me up and down, gaze lingering in certain, more intimate, places. I was acutely aware of every drop of sweat soaking through my clothes, every stringy piece of hair clinging to my cheeks. I was a mess.

  Judging from the heat in Liam's eyes, he liked that mess.

  "What did you think of the show?" I asked, aiming for composed and utterly failing. At least I could chalk my labored breath up to the performance. I could pretend it had nothing to do with the way his searching eyes bore into me. "Was it up to your standards?"

  "You blew the roof off. I've rarely seen a crowd go that wild for a brand new band."

  "We've been hot in the indie scene for a while," I said. "We've got fans from our old days still following us around. They were really excited when we got a record deal."

  "The fans sounded like they wanted a second encore."

  "Not tonight. The guys are already upstairs on the second floor lounge getting trashed."

  "Are you going to join them?" he asked.

  "I need a change of clothes first," I said, slowly picking up my bag tucked away in the corner.

  Liam's eyes narrowed, turning a dark forest green.

  "You need some help with that?" he asked.

  I knew exactly what he meant.

  The tips of my fingers dragged against the rough texture of my chipped nail polish. I
wet my lips, tasting the slick gloss coating them. I considered Liam's offer.

  I was bold when it came to the stage, when it came to music.

  I wasn't bold when it came to… this.

  Liam seemed to sense how awkward I was feeling.

  He stepped up to press against me, radiating warmth, his firm chest hot against mine.

  I took a deep breath in to steady myself. A warm, woodsy, masculine scent filled my nose.

  Damn. He smelled even better than he looked, which should have been impossible.

  Forget the fluttering in my stomach. This was a swirling cyclone. A raging storm. This was the beginning of an armageddon ready to destroy every last inch of my resistance.

  He tilted his head at me with a knowing smile.

  I nodded.

  He placed both hands on my arms. I felt every indentation of his fingertips, every whorl, as if it were branded into me. His palms ran up and down in a sensual, soothing motion, from my shoulders to my wrists.

  I shivered, my insides turning hot and achy.

  He took both my hands in his, lacing our fingers. I curled my fingers around his.

  He placed a soft kiss on my neck.

  My fingers clenched, squeezing his hands tight. "Wait."

  I was surprised to find my voice was steady. No hint of the tempest racing through me.

  Liam stopped, his lips still on my skin. I pulled away, untangling our hands. My heart jackhammered in my chest.

  "I'm sorry," I said, avoiding his eyes. "I don't think I can…"

  "Don't be sorry," Liam said. He tilted my chin up to meet his gaze. He studied me carefully.

  "It's just—" I started.

  He put a finger to my lips.

  "You don't need to explain," Liam said. With a gentle smile, he pressed a kiss to my forehead.

  I closed my eyes, breathing deeply.

  It was just what? All I knew was that my fight or flight instinct had kicked in and I couldn't figure out why.

  "I should go meet up with my band," I said weakly.

  Liam nodded. I made a motion toward the door. I stopped.

  "Will you be at our next concert?" I asked.

  I couldn't just leave. I couldn't let it end like this.

  Liam's expression turned regretful, as if he understood the true meaning behind my words.

  Will I ever see you again?

  "I'm only in town for a short gig," he said.

  I could have invited him up to the lounge to party with us for the night.

  I could have invited him back to my place.

  I didn't.

  "I'm glad I ran into you tonight," he said. "I'll be able to say, I knew her when, after you've taken over the world."

  "You sound so sure that will happen."

  "It will," he said confidently. "Just don't forget about us little people when you're rich and famous." He threw me a crooked smile.

  My heart thumped. I quickly slipped out the door, closing it behind me. I rested my back against it. My chest felt tight, like I couldn't get enough air into my lungs, like all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

  I was attracted to Liam. He was obviously attracted to me. I wasn't opposed to a random hook up, although it wasn't really my thing. I supposed a one-night stand could be fun. I had no reason to pull away. There was no harm in fooling around, no strings, no attachments.

  But there were attachments, weren't there?

  He wasn't some random guy I'd picked up at a club. He was Liam Knight, the man who'd saved me from myself. A crush didn't begin to describe the tangle of feelings I had inside me when it came to him.

  If I had given in to him, if I had allowed myself to drop my guard…

  Turning him down had been for the best, I decided.

  All I had to do now was get my heart to agree.

  3

  The first concert after signing our contract had been wildly successful. Our fans were clamoring for more, so the label decided to push up the dates of our tour.

  That meant Gael went back to bugging me about hiring a session guitarist to fill in for me.

  "I don't know," Nathan said. "I like being the only male guitarist in our band. It scores me all the chicks."

  Gael smacked him in the shoulder. "Hey, I used to score as many chicks as you."

  "That was before you let some girl chain you down," Nathan said. "Now there's no more chicks allowed for you, isn't that right?"

  Instead of getting mad, Gael puffed his chest out.

  "There's only one chick I need in my life," he declared.

  "Your girlfriend would have you by the balls if she knew you'd called her a chick," I said.

  "At least I'm not calling her by a disgusting pet name," Gael said.

  "Besides," Nathan drawled, "isn't that what our female fans are calling themselves? Cherry Chicks?"

  "I don't know if that’s cute or gross," I muttered.

  "You think that's bad, you should hear what fans of Benedict Cumberbatch call themselves." Nathan gave me a lazy-eyed smirk.

  I couldn't understand why all the girls flocked to someone like Nate. Well, I supposed I could, if I squinted and tilted my head. With his sandy brown hair, dark blue eyes and laid-back attitude, he had that cute boy next door thing going on.

  Of course, behind all that boyish charm was a shark lying in wait. No one who really knew Nate would mistake him for anything else but a predator licking his chops as he waited patiently for his prey to appear.

  "We've got a handful of guys out there waiting for their turn to impress us," Gael said. "We put the word out everywhere and got a lot of interest from guitarists in the local scene."

  "One or two even decided to fly in from out of town to audition for us," Nathan added. “It turns out we're a pretty big deal.”

  "Where exactly did you put the word out?" I asked. "I haven't seen audition postings anywhere online."

  "I didn't post the job description online," Gael said. "I spread the word among our musician friends."

  "Keeping out the riffraff," Nathan said.

  Gael shrugged. "If you want to put it that way. We still might end up with amateurs.”

  “Is that why Seth and Julian aren’t here?” Nathan asked, referring to our drummer and keyboardist.

  “No point wasting their time if these guys don’t have what it takes. We’ll weed out the ones who can’t keep up with us.”

  Maybe that was a narcissistic way of putting it. Then again, no one had ever accused Gael of having too much humility.

  Of course, I couldn't talk. I was just as bad sometimes.

  I always said being an artist meant swinging between delusions of grandeur and crippling self-doubt.

  "I'm surprised you're taking the lead on this," I told Gael. "You're not normally so responsible."

  "My girl has turned me into a better man," he said with pride.

  Nathan snorted.

  Ever since he'd met Jessie, Gael had been much more reliable. It was odd to think of my older brother and the word reliable in the same sentence, but Jessie really had been a good influence on him.

  "Are we ready?” Gael asked us. "Should we get started with the auditions?”

  Nate and I nodded.

  "Let's bring in the first one." Gael opened the door and waved a guy through.

  The one who walked in first had a pale, washed-out look and wide eyes. He could have been a fan of ours, or maybe he always got nervous when auditioning. Gael asked the guy to introduce himself. He gave a long rambling speech about how he'd never been in a band before, but he'd been playing guitar forever and he was really grateful for the chance to audition for us and he hoped he impressed us. The guy didn't stop for air the entire time.

  I didn't mind the rambling so much. It was the squirrelly way he darted his gaze between us that bugged me. If he looked this nervous performing in front of three people, how would he be able to play a live show?

  He was a good guitarist but he didn't blow me away. Maybe that was th
e most I could ask for. I couldn't expect total genius from every session guitarist out there. Not everyone could be as talented as my own band members.

  I wasn't being biased. I'd taken a while to gather the right group. Nathan, our guitarist, Seth, our drummer, and Julian, our keyboardist, were some of the best musicians to come onto the scene in a long time. I still sometimes wondered why they had chosen to join my band over all their other options.

  Whenever we got together and talked about our future, about our ambitions, I was reminded. The fire in their eyes was the same as mine. We were all kindred spirits. World domination was in our blood.

  The guy auditioning finished his song and lowered his guitar pick.

  "Thanks," Gael said. "We'll let you know."

  The guy bobbed his head and ducked out quickly, seeming relieved the ordeal was over.

  Gael turned to face us. His expression was less than enthused. "Thoughts?"

  "Not in a million years," Nathan said.

  "I don't think he's the right guy," I said.

  "That's it, then," Gael said. "One down, five to go."

  "We don't really have to sit through five more of these, do we?" I asked.

  "Only until we find one who fits," Gael said.

  I was beginning to dread the process. I didn't want to have to sit here listening to mediocre musicians all day.

  It turned out that that wasn't going to be a problem. Gael opened the door to usher in the second guitarist.

  My heart stopped in my chest.

  Liam Knight walked through the door.

  4

  Liam stood in the doorframe, guitar in hand.

  He hadn't changed in the few months since I'd seen him. He had the same wavy brown hair, same green eyes, same gorgeous smile. He wore dark denim that looked artfully ripped, as if they had been designed that way. His tight t-shirt was some brand name logo I vaguely recognized.

  His eyes scanned the room. They landed on me. He blinked. His gaze flicked back to the guys, then back to me.