“See, unlike Jenna, I won’t force her to talk about her past,” I commented, giving Jenna a small smile to let her know I was kidding. “That isn’t the point, anyway. The point is Jenna thinks my ex is stalking me.”
“What do you think?” Crimson questioned.
“I think that the universe loves to fuck with me,” I responded, shrugging. There was no other excuse.
Jenna was playing on her phone, seemingly ignoring the conversation. “Have you even checked out what his book is about, Harlow?”
“No…” I trailed off, the prickly sensation of unease exploding beneath my skin.
“Apparently it’s about you,” Jenna told me, shoving her phone at me. I took it. She’d opened up a web page, likely Iain’s website. On the web page was a cover image of Iain’s book and a blurb. The book was called Circumstance, and the blurb instantly chilled my blood.
Circumstance by Iain Bentley
They say that love knows no colour, no race, no age.
All of David Young’s morals and ideals are questioned when he finds himself falling desperately in love with the beautiful and mysterious 17-year-old Leah Decker. Leah is other-worldly to David. She is as intelligent as she is beautiful, strong as she is vulnerable, brave as she is scared, and dark as she is light. She is a contradiction of everything he thought he knew of the world.
Marred by death and tragedy, Leah has not had an easy life. Her flame is close to flickering out, but it sparks when she’s around David, the flames of her inner light catching and pulling him in. He watches her come back to life before his eyes, he watches her see her own potential.
But David is Leah’s teacher, and Leah is his student. Can true love overcome circumstance?
My mouth felt like cotton balls as I handed Jenna her phone back. She handed it to Crimson so Crimson could have a read.
“Well then,” I said. I really didn’t know what to think about the whole situation. I wanted to talk to Jax about it, to see his take on it. My feeble mind latched on to the thought of Jax. “So, I guess now is as good a time as ever to mention that I’ve decided to move in with Jax.”
Jenna’s head snapped up, her eyes brightening with excitement. “Really, Harlow? That’s incredible!” she all but squealed before racing over to me and throwing her arms around me.
“Oh my God.” Crimson handed Jenna her phone, seeming a little shell shocked. I bet she wasn’t counting on this kind of excitement during our girls’ weekend. It was the first time Crimson had really hung out with both Jenna and me since that one party ages ago.
Jenna had fallen silent, her eyes clouded with thought. “What’s wrong with you?” I demanded, stirring her away from whatever was consuming her.
“I was just thinking isn’t it kind of fucked up that your ex-boyfriends keep popping up?” Jenna answered. She cast an apologetic look to Crimson. “No offense.”
“None taken. It is kind of messed up. I mean, it’s not like you live in the same towns where those relationships even happened…Cole was from Toronto, originally.”
“Toronto?” Jenna looked at me, tilting her head. “You never said you lived in Toronto.”
“Well, I did.” I shrugged, uncomfortable. “But we should really start getting ready and maybe go get some food. I’m hungry.”
Jenna gave me a look that read we are not through talking about this, but nodded in agreement. “Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” she said, rubbing her hands together.
Three hours later, we were piling out of the hotel restaurant and into a cab, ready to head over to Massey Hall for the concert. Jenna and Crimson had both spent a ridiculous amount of time changing clothes several times to find the proper outfits and obsessing over their hair and makeup. In the end, their fussing was worth it. They both looked stunning.
Jenna looked edgy in her grey skin-tight mini dress, black quilted leather jacket, and black heels. She’d used a black and grey palate to create a smoky look over her lids, and her cornflower blue eyes were intense. Jenna looked hotter than hell, but I couldn’t help but tease her that she was going to freeze her ass off.
Crimson was wearing cream fleece-lined leggings and a gorgeous, chocolate brown, long-sleeved knitted top. She had tamed her wild curls with some kind of product, and the result was polished, tight curls. Her hair, even when tightly curled to her head, was halfway down her back. She was even wearing makeup: a natural, subtle look that still made her eyes pop in a demure yet enticing way.
I dressed in my tight black jeans with rips in the knees, my shit-kicker boots and an old band t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off. My long hair was down, but I’d changed the look of my go-to black liquid eyeliner. I’d used a style called ‘drop eye’, where the eyeliner followed both the upper lid much like a cat-eye, but it also swooped down to follow the lower lid, creating a more dramatic look. My red lipstick was back full tilt, and I felt hot. Hot enough to send Jax a picture text.
“We look smoking,” Jenna declared, satisfied. “Ugh…tonight is going to be amazing!” she added, practically squealing with excitement. I smiled, her happy energy affecting mine, lifting it up just enough for me to push thoughts of Iain—and his book—from my mind.
“Yeah, we do,” I agreed, thinking about Jax’s response to my photo text.
You and me, the second you get home. Wear that.
“We’re here!” Jenna sang, leaning forward to pay and tip the cab driver. He’d parked right out front of the Massey Hall. We stood on the road for a minute, looking at the lineup that already stretched halfway down the road.
“Shit,” I said, frowning. “Guess we should have gotten here earlier.” Jenna didn’t respond, she was busy texting on her phone. “Hey, I thought we said no phones this weekend.”
“Trust me,” Jenna said, looking up briefly. “This will just take a minute and it will save us an hour.” She waited until her phone dinged, read the response then quickly smiled. “Alright, follow me, ladies,” she said, leading the way to an alley beside Massey Hall. I didn’t like it one bit, but I followed her, sure that Jenna wouldn’t lead us into harm’s way.
There was a metal door at the side of the building, held open by a large, very bald security guard. “Are you Jenna Burke?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered, flashing her VIP card and ID at him. He stood aside, letting us in. I almost swallowed my tongue when I saw Kyle Russell casually leaning against the wall in the narrow hall.
“Hey,” he said, a dimple flashing on the side of his mouth. Kyle was just shy of six feet tall. His light hair brushed against his shirt collar and was carelessly styled. He was dressed in dark grey jeans, a black v-neck t-shirt and a leather jacket. He was the epitome of a celebrity: put together, sexy, and reeking of high maintenance.
His light eyes brushed over Crimson and me and came to rest on Jenna. He stepped forward, his arms wrapping around Jenna’s body in greeting.
“Hey, Kyle.” Jenna flushed, stepping back when he released her. “These are my friends, Harlow Jones and Crimson Stewart.”
“Hey,” Kyle said again with a curt nod to both Crimson and I, and I vaguely wondered if any other words graced his vocabulary. “Come on back. Your VIP passes grant you access to backstage, which is where we’re hanging out until it’s time for the show. Then Creed here will accompany you to the front row.” Kyle motioned to the large security guard that had granted us entrance into the side door.
Creed grunted in acknowledgement, his tan face transforming to a friendly grin as I met his eyes.
Kyle led the way down the narrow hallway to another door and opened it. Voices spilled out from inside, and I felt my heart beating loudly in my chest. This was my first time meeting anyone who was considered famous. At first, I was a little star struck. I didn’t know what was on the other side of that door.
My dad had been in a band, back in the days before I was born. That’s how my parents had met. It was at one of his smoky bar shows in Toronto a lifetime ago: my lifetime ago. But he
was never famous like the people in Autumn Fields. I could already hear the buzz of the audience, although we must have been separated by a wall or two. My dad played at small venues, and he barely made any money off those shows. He did, however, develop a coke habit.
I glanced at Kyle again, my eyes narrowing as I searched for outward signs of him being high. With fame and money came vices like drugs and booze. Kyle seemed fine though. His eyes weren’t glassy and he was alert, charming even. The way he kept glancing at Jenna with the secret, adorable lopsided grin almost made me want to smile.
Jenna walked in with confidence, Crimson trailed behind her with wonderment, and I stalked in like it was the last place on earth I wanted to be. And it was, sort of. Once the initial oh my God I’m meeting celebrities wore off (which was pretty quickly for me), I was just… bored… missing Jax… wondering about Iain’s book and how much truth was in it.
Two guys that I recognized from posters and CD covers were standing near the refreshment table, snacking on fruit. One was tall and scrawny, with strawberry blonde hair, brown eyes, and freckles that darted across his nose and face. He was animatedly telling a story to the second guy, who was a little bit shorter, with dark skin and incredibly light eyes. He had a playful, easy grin on his face, and was shaking his head at something the first guy had said.
There was a lone leather sofa toward the back of the room, where the only girl in the group sat, looking bored—distracted even—as she sipped from her water bottle. Her feet were up on the coffee table, crossed at the ankles. I couldn’t help but admire her fantastic boots. She was dressed in black, almost see-through tights, black shorts with a chunky belt, an AC/DC shirt and oddly enough, a flowing, see-through cheetah print top that went to her knees. It reminded me of a robe of some sorts, only it wasn’t. She wore a fedora over her long caramel hair, and her eyes looked smoky and haunted. She watched us approaching, a wariness to her that made me wonder what her story was.
“Ladies, these are my bandmates. Cam, Marcus, and Everly. Guys, this is Jenna.” Kyle paused, motioning to Jenna with a ridiculously shy grin on his face. “Harlow, and Crimson.”
Everyone muttered their hellos. I felt Cam’s eyes drawn to me. I met his gaze, hoping to convey that I was not interested. Cam had an air of self-entitlement about him, as if he believed he was God’s gift to women. It was almost comical with his wiry hair and scrawny build. I suppose most fans didn’t care which guy hit on them, so long as they could claim to have been with one.
Cam grinned, sensing a challenge, and I rolled my eyes.
“This is so exciting!” Crimson squealed, gripping my arm as if she needed to hang on to me to keep her balance. I smiled at her, glad that at least she and Jenna were having fun.
* * *
For my fifteenth birthday, Lauren invited me to a concert at Massey Hall. Her dad worked for a company that often gave away tickets to local shows. The concert was for Steve Earle, a man I’d never heard of prior to going to the show with Lauren. Lauren’s dad let us go alone, assuming that we couldn’t get into much trouble at an old country singer’s concert.
He was wrong, of course. He dropped us off, watched until we got safely inside, and then drove away. The moment he was gone, Lauren and I snuck out. Her boyfriend’s shop was a few blocks away, so we walked there, arms linked together and our heads thrown back in laughter. That was the same night we got the matching birds in flight tattoos on our collar bones.
That time was lighter, freer. Even after everything I’d been through at that point, I was still open. Lauren’s friendship made me carefree in a way that I’d never experienced before.
Being back at Massey Hall six years later, with Lauren’s body cold in the ground, was a trip. And it wasn’t a pleasant one. Still, I enjoyed the concert. It was impossible not to—Autumn Fields was a great band. Their lyrics were great, their instrumentals were phenomenal, and before I knew it, it was over and we were backstage with the other fans who had VIP passes.
There were ten of us total. The table that had held all the refreshments and food was restocked, while another table had been set up at the far end of the room for the band to sit at.
Eager fans held out posters, CD cases, t-shirts, notebooks—anything they had—to get them signed. I saw one girl press her chest forward for Kyle. He signed it with a cheeky grin, and she squealed with excitement before moving on to Cam and Marcus. She even stopped in front of Everly, grinning.
“I’m not shy!” she declared, thrusting her chest out for Everly to sign. Everly actually laughed, impressed by this girl’s gall, before her fancy signature landed just below Kyle’s. “Thank you so much!” The girl started to cry and had to be led away by one of her friends.
I avoided the lineup and stood near the refreshment table, sipping from a bottle of water and watching the chaos around me while I tried my best to fight off thoughts of Lauren.
Jenna was flirting with Kyle demurely and Crimson was eagerly chatting up a few of the fans. They were both having a blast. I wish I could say the same for myself, but I just wanted to go home. I had a tension headache, and an ache in my heart from missing Lauren.
It was impossible to not think about her when I was back—back home. That part of my life seemed so far away…and yet, it really wasn’t.
Sometimes, I felt irrationally angry for the way that Lauren’s life had been cut short. The two years I’d known her hadn’t seemed long enough at all.
Lauren liked to have fun. She liked to push the boundaries and spent every moment like it was her last. She taught me how to live that way, and since I’d lost her, I had forgotten how.
Lauren’s family blamed me for her death. They blamed me for everything, really. She was considered a “partier,” but I never saw that girl get blackout drunk. She was always in control of herself and her actions. She was always smiling. And yet, her parents acted as if I corrupted their sweet, innocent little girl and turned her into a harlot.
Her parents hadn’t known about her secret relationship with an older guy (a tattoo artist, no less). They found out the night they went to the hospital to identify her body—and they were heartbroken and pissed. Naturally, they turned their anger to me, the survivor. In their eyes, I shouldn’t have lived. Lauren may have made mistakes, but it was my boyfriend driving.
I blinked away the moisture from my eyes, trying to control my breathing. I tried to push away the memories of Lauren, which were quickly resurfacing at a staggering rate.
My phone buzzed in the clutch that I’d tucked under my arm and I quickly fished it out, welcoming the distraction from my own thoughts.
Hope you guys are having fun tonight! Miss you. Be safe.
Jax’s message brought a genuine smile to my face and eased the anxious racing of my heart. I responded, telling him I missed him too and wished he was here. Things would be far more interesting if he was.
I realized just how much I cared for Jax, how I wanted to be around him. With a ferocity that startled me, I couldn’t help but wish he was here, and not just because Cam’s sleazy eyes wouldn’t dare linger on my body leeringly if Jax was present. I just wanted to feel his arms around me.
After sending my message to Jax, the silence started to get to me. It was strange how loud and chaotic it was backstage…and yet, I felt wrapped in silence, suffocating in my loneliness. I closed my eyes, not wanting to give in to those feelings. Not here.
“Hey.” The sudden appearance of someone else startled me. I glanced up, seeing that my unwanted friend was honing in for the kill. He must have finished signing breasts. He was sipping a beer, trying to appear cool and calm. In reality, he reminded me of one of the dorky kids that was always getting shoved into lockers in high school. I tilted my head, wondering if he had been one before the whole band thing. Now he exuded an arrogance that made me feel ill. It wasn’t that I got bad vibes off of him—he was harmless, that I knew—but arrogance is a gross personality trait. It makes you feel dirty and cheap.
“Hi,
” I said cautiously.
“So, where are you from?” Cam tried again, smiling into his beer.
“A lot of places,” I responded dryly. I didn’t want to be rude, but at the same time, I wasn’t in the mood for small talk with a stranger that I didn’t particularly want to get to know.
“Me too.” He grinned, his eyes slowly dropping to my chest.
I sighed, stepping back and angling my body so that I was facing him. “Okay, buddy,” I said, my no-bullshit stare in full effect. “I’m in a happy, committed relationship. I have no desire to spend the night avoiding you, which I’m going to have to do if you don’t lay off on the crazy eyes.”
Cam looked surprised at first, then mortified. He started to turn red with embarrassment. I couldn’t help but notice that his large ears stuck out quite a bit, and they turned just as red as his face. “I was just making small talk,” he argued.
“With my tits? Newsflash: they don’t talk,” I responded. “Look, you seem like a nice enough guy. I’m sure any one of those fans over there would be beyond ecstatic to keep you company.”
Cam’s mouth gaped like a fish for several seconds. “Fine, whatever,” he said, sending me a dirty look before disappearing.
I leaned back against the wall, relieved to be free of him, and sighed contently.
“That was impressive.” I opened my eyes, watching the speaker warily. Everly stood in front of the refreshment table, an amused smile on her thin lips. “I’ve never seen anyone shut Cam down like that before.”
“Well, what can I say? I’m not like anyone, I guess.” I shrugged, fighting a smile. I felt a kinship with this girl. Although she was one of the main stars of the show, she looked as if she didn’t want to be here any more than I did.
Everly tilted her head, smiling. “No, I can’t say you are. It’s refreshing. So many people trip over their feet to scream in our faces. I don’t think I’ve had an actual conversation with a fan in months. Usually, they just run up to us and start screaming ‘Oh my God I love you guys so much can I have your autograph oh my God, oh my God, can we take a picture!’” Everly’s voice changed a fraction, mimicking a lot of the fans that had done the exact same thing at the signing. “It gets kind of old. Rarely do we actually get to talk to the fans, to find out who they are and why they like our music, or what their dreams are…you know?”
Collide Series Box Set Page 56