“Hey, baby boy.” Her slender hands run over my black T-shirt. Her perky tits and knowing grin welcome me, and my cock twitches instantly with the memory of just how good those tits feel wrapped around him.
“Let’s go sit down,” I say. I take her by the arm by way of greeting, not wasting any time. Taking a long swig from what’s gotta be my sixth beer by now—not to mention all of those shots I had—I lead Sasha to the sectioned VIP area, reserved for band members and their guests. I sink into an overstuffed, plush, black chair in the centre of the dimly-lit purple space, and Sasha doesn’t waste any time. She sits down on my lap, her warm back pressing against my chest, and her fine ass grinding over my cock.
“I’ve missed this, Slate,” Sasha says, all rough and sultry, and I can’t help compare her voice to Ali’s soft and sweet one. Looking around the room, I see Rain and Fife off to the side, sitting on a couple of bar stools and talking to some chicks standing in front of them. Fife catches my eye, and gives me a disappointed head shake before resuming his conversation with a petite redhead.
Yeah, yeah. I’m an asshole, brother, but she doesn’t want me.
Pushing thoughts of Ali out of my mind, I work on enjoying Sasha’s ministrations.
“Oh, baby. Is that for me?” Sasha asks, dipping her hand underneath her in order to cup my denim-covered cock, running her hands up and down my bulge.
“Yeah,” I lie, wanting her to stop talking. I can still hear Ali’s voice so vividly, the voice of the girl I wish was here with me instead. I give my head a shake, needing to rid my thoughts of Alina, and reach my arm around to run my hand over Sasha’s silky, ruby-coloured top. I cover her tit with my hand, taking her hard nipple and rolling it between my index finger and thumb, pinching it, and decide to give in to all things Sasha as I planned.
“Fuck, yes. Harder. Pull it harder,” Sasha says.
“You like that?” I ask.
I move my other hand over her other tit, and start tweaking both peaks as Sasha amps up the friction of her ass bearing down on my cock. Fuck, if she keeps this up, I’m gonna come right here in the middle of the club, not giving a shit who might be watching. Victoria can deal with the PR fallout on that one…
“Oh, baby. You’re so hard.” She turns her head, her eyes lust-filled. “I want you in my mouth, Slate. Let’s get outta here,” she pleads, arching her back against me like a cat in heat, twisting to try to connect my mouth with hers.
And that’s when my eyes trap hers: Alina.
37
Alina
“Come on, Ali. You can do one shot,” Roxie says, pulling me into the VIP area at the Roxy Cabaret, where tonight’s afterparty is being held. The place is jammed, and so far I’ve been having the best time. I haven’t seen Slater, but I haven’t been looking for him either (or so I try to convince myself).
“Okay, okay. One shot. I’m already at my limit,” I say, before my feet freeze in place at the sight in front of me.
An “Oh, fuck” falls from Roxie’s mouth. “Let’s just get out of here, Ali,” she mumbles.
Apparently, I’ve found Slater.
He’s sitting in a chair with a beautiful woman, one who has draped herself all over him and is sitting on his lap. My legs feel like Jell-o. My heart is thundering so fast; this must be what a heart attack feels like. I want to look away, to retreat, but I can’t.
All I can think is: “How did we get here?” It should be me over there on top of him.
As if sensing my presence, Slater’s beautiful cinnamon-toned eyes suddenly clash with mine, and I balk. I stand frozen. We stare at one another, holding each other captive, both seemingly unable to look away. I feel my stomach drop, my nose tingle, and the stinging in my eyes at the onset of tears threatening to fall. Breaking our connection, my eyes trail over to the woman sitting in his lap in time to witness her mouth curve into a sly smirk before she tilts her head back for a kiss. My ears ring and I can’t catch my breath, thinking about how he’s going to kiss her. He’s going to give her my kiss…
Unable to fight or flee, I stand paralyzed instead, my head shaking from side to side, the words “No, no, please, no,” lost on my lips. Thankfully, I see Slater deke his head to one side, and she misses. I want to smile, a sense of relief washing over me. I want to step forward and take my rightful place in his lap, but seeing those two stunning people pretty much wrapped up in each other, I keep myself rooted to the ground. Instinctively, my fingers wrap around my wrist, checking. Solidifying what I always knew: I can never be everything Slater needs or deserves. And then Slater’s beautiful mouth opens and drives in the final nail, bursting our bubble beyond repair.
“There’s room here for two, Alina. There’s enough of me to go around,” he says, the corners of his mouth turning up into a smile. I blanch, watching as he goes so far as to shift the gorgeous blonde to one side of his lap and starts patting his empty knee in invitation.
“Slater, please,” I beg, barely audible.
Ignoring my plea, Slater’s right hand moves and grips the back of the blonde’s head, pulling her in close, his eyes glued to mine. He seductively licks his lips, and a strangled whimper escapes from my throat because I know what’s coming. Unable to move, look away, or catch my breath, I watch as Slater Jenkins fuses his lips with the blonde’s and I die inside. And I know, without a doubt, that this is what heartbreak feels like.
No, no…nooo.
Ignoring the pissed-off sounds of Fife, Rain, and Roxie all yelling at Slater for being an asshole, I shake my head in disbelief. All words, thoughts, and feelings are lost to me as I turn and bolt out through the crowd, back to the hotel as fast as my feet can take me.
You’ll never be enough…
38
Alina
“Ali, please sit down. You’re making me nauseous. Stop pacing already,” an obviously hungover Paisley hiccups from where she’s leaning against the headboard, sandwiched between Roxie and Siobhán.
“You’re sure he pushed her off?” I question, looking to Roxie and asking the same question for the fifth time.
“I promise. It was as if seeing your face made him realize he’d fucked up. Big time. As soon as you left, he stood up, giving that bimbo no choice but to move. He said, ‘Fuck, what have I done?’ and was about to chase after you, until Fife and Rain stepped in and suggested he’d better let you cool down first.”
“I’m sorry. I know I’m probably still drunk,” Paisley snickers, “but is it bad that I think that’s kinda funny? Boy tries for jealousy, realizes he can’t get any better than my girl, chokes on his own shitshow, and now needs to fix it by winning her over?”
I roll my eyes, laughing a little in spite of myself.
“I cannot believe you just said that out loud, you must still be drunk,” Roxie says, and we all laugh. It’s now almost 8 a.m., and the girls have been here for hours since they’d first shown up knocking at my hotel room door, concern marring their faces. Once again, we snuggled up on my bed and I filled them in on everything that’s gone on between Slater and me, including what happened up on the roof, our plane rides, the flirting, and how much I really was starting to care for him.
Once I was done, Rox interjected when I stated my new decision to start actively hating Slater, and shared with us everything that had unfolded after I’d left. Deciding I was done talking about me and my drama, I asked about them, begging for dirt on Rox and Zack, Shiv’s attempts at getting Fife’s attention even though he keeps telling her that he’s too old for her, and Paisley’s growing crush on Tristan from Ullapool. Finally, I convinced Roxie to admit that something is definitely going on between her and Zack, but she’s trying to play it cool, so we are not to go crazy just yet. Paisley also shared how she’d kissed Tristan at the bar last night, and how it was bliss. We all laughed at her dreamy recount. Then I’d asked Roxie to tell me again what happened after I left, which made me cry before I finally fell asleep for a few hours, the four of us squished together like a pile of puppies
on my queen-sized bed. Like always, these three incredible ladies proved once again how blessed I am to have them in my life.
“Are you going to forgive him?” Siobhán now asks, as I get up and stretch, slipping into the green-and-blue camo-patterned sweater Lucky had given me.
“I think so. I mean, it’s not like we’re dating. We’re in this weird, hybrid edition of friends with more/but not more more, you know? All I know is Slater and I need to talk, and I’m going to have to open up a little in order for him to understand where I’m coming from. I hated last night, but I’ve hated us not talking even more. If he reacted like Roxie says, then I feel I owe it to at least our friendship to hear him out.”
“I agree,” Roxie says, nodding her head. “He was really upset, his face. It killed even me, and I’d wanted to throat punch him,” she adds, and I smile. How had I ever doubted these girls?
“You sure you don’t want us to come with you, Al?” Paisley asks, yawning, and I know she’d be ready in five if I said yes, in spite of how bagged she looks.
“Nah, I’m good. I want to go alone. I need some me time, I’ve got a lot to think about.”
“Okay. If you change your mind, text,” Pais adds, before sinking down under the covers.
“We’ll be here when you get back,” Roxie beams from under the covers, before adding, “Could you maybe close the curtain before you leave?”
I laugh. “You got it. Thank you for last night, guys, you really are amazing friends.”
“Yeah, we are. Holler if you change your mind,” Siobhán offers, tossing my cellphone from where it was on the bedside table.
“I will. What time is rehearsal,” I ask, lacing up my green monkey boots.
“Seven, so take your time. Enjoy your day.”
“I plan on it.”
“Glad you feel better. Now get out, so we can sleep,” Paisley adds, and I laugh. Popping up again, Roxie jerks her head my way. “One last thing, I hope I don’t see that asshat until you two talk it out, though. I may need to have a few words of my own with Slater Jenkins before I’m ready to make nice.”
“Easy, killer, I’ll be okay,” I tell her, even though I appreciate the sentiment.
“We know you will,” Roxie says, smiling genuinely as I slip out the door.
39
Alina
The H.R. MacMillan Space Centre is unbelievable.
Not only did I get to hold a piece of a real meteorite from outer space, I can now say I’ve touched one of the only five moon rocks in the entire world.
Lucky: How cool is that! Jealous. Glad you made it there, Ali.
I look again at the two selfies of me holding the moon rock and meteorite I’d just sent him.
Me: We will definitely have to come back.
I ignore the small wave of loneliness that experiencing this without Lucky brings. Maybe I should have asked the girls to come along?
Lucky: Count on it. K, lunch over. Gotta get back to class.
Me: talk soon, and thank you again for this. I love it.
Dropping my phone into my bag, I exchange it for the space centre’s map, intending to work my way back to the Planetarium Star Theatre, where I’ll sit under stars, meteor showers, and nebulas before watching the two shows: “Stories in the Sky”, and “Surfing the Solar System”. I’m too engrossed checking the listed showtimes in my pamphlet to pay attention to where I’m walking, when it happens: I ram head first into a solid chest. Dropping the pamphlet to the ground, I must admit I’m a little too stunned to step back, apologize, or even look up, as the scent of Irish Spring soap mixed with leather and mint dances in the air around me, assaulting my senses.
Slater.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, muffled, into his chest, not sure I’m quite ready to see his gorgeous face. Feeling his muscles contract with his soft chuckle, I finally look up. A mix of feelings ranging from hurt to anger to forgiveness and elation all riot within me for top spot. My emotions all float back down when my eyes halt on his face, and I remember the way he made me feel last night. He looks tired, I realize, when he removes his sunglasses, and more than a five o’clock shadow covers his still handsome, but normally clean-shaven, face. His usual confidence is gone, and an unsure gaze holds mine as I repeat, “What are you doing here?”
“I came to find you. I couldn’t stay away another minute,” Slater says, placing a hand on my shoulder.
Oblivious to the stares and whispers that Slater Jenkins of Sicken Union’s arrival at the space centre is causing as passersby and fans start recognizing him, his eyes soften, moving from my eyes down to my lips. The familiar warmth I’ll always associate as a reaction reserved for his proximity ratchets up under his heavy stare and gentle touch.
Shaking my head to get out from under his trance, I firmly say, “No.” I step back, my body still bristling from his attention. The last thing I want him to see is me reacting to him. He’s an asshole who deserves to know exactly what I think—regardless of how much I still want him. He’s just lucky Roxie told me everything; knowing he didn’t take things any further with that blonde helped more than I’d care to admit.
“Alina, please,” Slater says, using my full name, and I hate it. No, I loathe it.
“Ali,” I hiss my eyes welling with tears, and the asshat chuckles.
“Okay, Ali. Please, we need to talk,” he says, reaching for my waist and pulling me closer. “I know you’re pissed at me. Shit, I’m irate with myself, but I gotta hold you for a second. I need a hug, Ali. I miss you. So much. I fucked up, I know I did. Sasha means nothing. I need you to know that,” he whispers into my neck, holding me tightly in the middle of the crowded lobby. I look up, and that’s when I spot two of the band’s security team members—Oliver standing not too far off to the side along with Charlie, who’s holding a tray with what looks like Starbucks in it.
“You hurt me,” I admit.
“I know I did. It killed me, seeing your reaction. Destroyed me, knowing I put that look of devastation on your face,” Slater says quietly. “Honestly, Sasha’s just a—I was hurt, and drinking more than I should have been. My ego was bruised, and I guess I lashed out the only way I knew how. I’m a jackass.”
“‘Sasha’, is it? Go on.” I put some much-needed distance between us. Hearing the hurt lacing Slater’s tone is almost too much. Deciding I can catch a later show, I extend an olive branch. “There’s a sitting area with tables and chairs outside beside the gift shop. Let’s go talk for a bit,” I offer.
He accepts without pause. “I’d really like that.” After nodding to Oliver and Charlie to keep the fans at bay, we weave our way outside. Thankfully, no one is too pushy trying to stop Slater for an autograph along our way, but I do see a few phones and cameras pointed in our direction.
Once sitting with our drinks—the ones he brought for us: mine a Hibiscus Refresher, and Slater’s a Venti Pike Place, black—he takes a deep breath and begins. “Ali, I’m not good enough for you. You are pure and all things sweet. I freaked when I tried to kiss you and you didn’t kiss me back. I shouldn’t have even tried. I should have talked to you about how I was feeling. I just thought…” he says, giving me an unsure smile.
“You thought what?” I repeat, before taking a sip from the green straw.
“I thought maybe you felt it, too. Maybe you wanted more from me, but even if you don’t, Ali, I can’t keep on like this, us not talking to each other. I’d rather we just be friends than whatever the fuck we’ve been for the last week. This is fucking with my head. I’m going out of my mind not talking to you or sitting with you. I hate not jamming together late at night, and I can’t stand not being on the receiving end of your smile. And I miss your smell on my clothes after we hang out,” he sighs, his cheeks turning the cutest rose-coloured hue, and I can’t hide my smile, knowing Slater Jenkins is blushing and it’s because of me.
“I miss you too,” I admit. “I heard what happened after I left. Roxie filled me in. I can’t say I wasn’t reli
eved, I was. You need to know how much you hurt me, though. I can’t stop thinking about the way you looked at her, or the vulgar way you spoke to me, asking me to join the two of you, and watching you kiss her…” I say, shuddering and looking away, needing a break.
“I was dead wrong. I thought I could forget you. Truth is, you’re unforgettable. I hate myself for hurting you. But Roxie’s right. Nothing happened after you left. I was so pissed at myself that I pushed Sasha off me then tried to follow you, but Fife and Rain stopped me. I punched Fife,” he tells me, and it shocks me. Roxie had left that tidbit out.
“You hit Fife, huh?” I mull it over.
“I did. I’m not proud of it. I was so far gone, realizing what I’d done, all I could think about was chasing you. They finally calmed me down, and I left. I walked around for hours before heading back to the hotel alone. Shit, I stood outside your door forever, daring myself to knock, but thinking better of it. I could hear you in there with your girls, and knew we both needed time. It killed me, but I knew no matter what I said last night, it wouldn’t be enough,” Slater admits, reaching across the small table, taking my hand in his. “I am so sorry, baby. I would never intentionally hurt you again like I did last night. I was confused and hurting, too. So, I’m going to take a leap of faith here, Ali, and I’m going to admit, going forward—friends or more—that I want you in my life. And I’ll take you in any way you’ll give yourself to me.” He expels a long deep breath, and I believe him. I know Slater Jenkins would never hurt me on purpose. I realize we’ve both gone about this—whatever this is between us—the wrong way. I know this is new territory for both of us.
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