CELEB CRUSH

by Christie, Nicole

  Go? I don’t think I can even blink. Outwardly, I am calm, though inside my heart is shrieking inside of my chest. I’m shattered. Thoughts of violence don’t even cross my mind. I want to throw up. I refuse to process the situation in front of me, to arrive at the obvious conclusion.

  Kat is still talking, speaking in hushed tones. I have no idea what she’s saying; it sounds like Italian. The shower turns off, and I can only focus on the open doorway of the bathroom. Any second, he will come out, and break me beyond repair.

  Maybe it’s not him.

  Despite everything, there exists a tiny thread of hope that this is all a huge misunderstanding. Maybe it’s not Luke in there. It’s one of his friends whom he let borrow his room…and his clothes.

  I have to see. I have to know.

  When he comes out of the bathroom in a towel wrapped loosely around his hips, I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck. I trip backwards, clutching onto the door jamb for support.

  Luke’s gaze lands on me and his eyes widen. “Andi?” Then he turns to his bed and Kat. “What the hell—?”

  A jolt of adrenaline suddenly crashes into my system. Fight or flight. My body chooses to run before my mind can catch up.

  “No—wait!” Luke shouts from behind me.

  I can be incredibly fast and agile when I want to be. I feel Luke’s fingers brush against my shoulder just before I slip out the front door.

  He runs out into the hallway after me, just in a towel. He yells my name as he starts to gain on me. I want to scream at him to leave me alone, but I don’t waste my breath. I make it to the stairs, knowing he won’t pursue me down.

  I’m right. His voice echoes down the stairwell, pleading for me to come back. I don’t give a shit. I keep running, and I don’t stop until I hit the parking garage floor my car is parked on. I get in my car and just sit there, gasping like a fish out of water.

  Resting my head against the steering wheel, I take a minute to pull myself together before I start the car. I can’t get the key in the ignition since my hand is shaking too badly. I scream out loud in frustration.

  The buzzing of my phone makes me jump and swear. I don’t bother to look at it. I finally manage to jab the key in the ignition. The engine roars to life, and I screech out of the stall, operating by rote.

  I drive aimlessly. Why the fuck is this happening to me again? Only it’s so much worse this time because it’s Luke, and I—

  What? I love him? I laugh out loud. Yeah, right. See, this is what happens when you let someone in. When you think you’re special and different from all the other girls that came before you. I think about all the things I’ve said to Luke and done with him while under the illusion that he cared about me as much as I cared about him. I cringe at my stupidity.

  He was with her. While I was waxing and grooming, and planning our night together, he was fucking his “Soul mate.” While I was worrying about what he’d think of my body, he was enjoying her perfect one. How many times have they been together? Was he even drunk the first time he was with her like he claimed? He sure didn’t look drunk this time. Were there other girls? Of course there were.

  I don’t know how long it takes for shock to morph into something else—a cold black rage. It brings a tremulous smile to my face. This is an emotion I’m comfortable with. It’s much more productive. I keep picturing the stunned look on Luke’s face when he saw me standing there. I can feel the hopeful girlish parts of me wither and die off, and something dark and acidic unfurls and grows bigger and stronger inside of me until I’m choking on it. I’m crazed with violent thoughts. I want to both scream and laugh wildly as my evil mind replays the scene in the hotel room over and over again.

  Fuck him. Fuck him! Fuck all of them. He thinks I’m going to crawl under a rock and cry my eyes out over him? Hell, no. My hands claw the steering wheel in a death grip as I sneer viciously to myself. I planned on having sex tonight, and I will. Maybe with more than one guy—at the same fucking time. I heard somewhere that threesomes can be fun. My stone cold heart starts to beat again, somewhere outside of my chest. I can hear it all around me, and I swear it makes the air around me pulsate.

  I find a strip of bars, and park in the dark lot across the street. Before I get out, I make sure I have the essentials: cards, keys, pepper spray, brass knuckles (they fold up and fit into my back pocket), and some kiss ass red lipstick. I leave my annoying phone in the car; it hasn’t stopped buzzing since I left Luke’s cheating ass back at the hotel. I lock up, and cross toward the neon-lit sidewalk.

  I have no idea where I am, but it doesn’t matter; I choose a place at random. I’m on a mission. I’m in that car with no brakes again, only this time I’m flooring the gas.

  But instead of feeling exhilarated, I am completely numb.

  Chapter 24

  “Come on, Jenny. Just one drink won’t kill you.”

  Mike—or was his name Mark—sticks a smudged glass of a pale amber liquid in my face. I slap it away, hard enough that the drink splashes out of the glass and splatters onto the already filthy floor.

  “Damn!” he swears, transferring the drink to his other hand while shaking the drops off the wet one.

  “Just take the shot,” I snap at him.

  I’ve been playing pool with Mike/Mark, Cogs, and Javi for the last hour and a half. I spotted the marines at the back of the bar, and I made my move. I don’t know anything about them other than the fact that they’re on leave from who cares where. They don’t care about me—I’m just an easy target. I half-heartedly flirt with all three of them, and they not-so-subtly compete with each other for my attention.

  I’m leaning toward leaving with Javi, mostly by the process of elimination. If Mike/Mark tries to shove another drink in my face, I’m going to ram it—glass and all—down his throat. Cogs is obnoxious and handsy. Javi is at least going through the motions of being a gentleman, though that hard glint in his dark eyes rivals mine. I guess I’d have sex with him. But then I’d pepper spray him after. He might like it. He seems to enjoy my foul mouth and temper.

  Being with these guys makes me want to throw up, but I continue to keep a smile on my face. I think they’re a little scared of me—but intrigued. “You look like you bite,” Cogs jokes after I introduce myself to them. I just smile wider and focus on the gaping hole where my heart used to be.

  I’m getting thirsty. It’s hot and sticky in this dump, and my head is pounding a crazy tribal beat inside of my fragile skull. God, I wish I could just go home. But every time I think about heading toward the exit, that scene in Luke’s hotel room flashes into my head. I flirt that much harder with the marines.

  I know I’m sending them crazy mixed signals, but they don’t seem to mind as long as I bend over the pool table a lot. It frustrates them that I won’t drink with them, though. I don’t care—none of them can even get my fake name right. I go to the bar and get my own sodas. It would be so much easier to go through with this drunk off my ass, but I want revenge—not to wake up naked and tied up in a warehouse.

  Javi is standing behind me, his hands on my back with the excuse of showing me the correct stance for sinking my shot, when Luke walks in.

  I spot him right away. Our eyes meet across that crowded bar, and the world comes to a stop. It takes all my strength to push back the pain and longing swelling up like a tidal wave at his presence. All my muscles clench as I fight to maintain a blank expression.

  Luke’s gaze moves to Javi, and his face becomes infused with rage. It takes a few angry strides for him to reach us. Though the clientele here is older and on the seedy side, several of them seem to recognize Luke. People glance at him as he moves past them, and do drunken double takes. He doesn’t seem to notice, all his attention focused on me.

  He stops right in front of me, too close for comfort. “We’re leaving, Andi. Now,” he growls with a smoldering glare at Javi.

  “Hey—you’re that guy!” Cogs shouts, and points at Luke, oblivious of the tension. “Sam, ri
ght?”

  “You’re Lucas Greyson,” Mike/Mark says in a hushed tone. He looks as star struck as a twelve year old fangirl.

  I can feel Javi tensing behind me, dropping his hands from my back. He doesn’t say anything. Apparently, he’s not a fan. His appeal rises slightly in my books.

  “I’m not going anywhere with you,” I scoff, stepping back against my new friend.

  Luke leans in close to me, his expression a mask of barely controlled fury. “You have three seconds before I pick your ass up and carry you out,” he growls.

  “Fuck you. I said I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Do we have a problem here?” Javi intervenes. I glance up at him, and he has a smirky little smile on his face as he tries to stare Luke down. He wants to fight, I can tell.

  “Stay out of this, man,” Luke warns, barely sparing him a glance. “Let’s go, Andi.”

  “No,” I enunciate clearly, and I’m happy that my voice is fairly steady despite the desperate hammering in my chest.

  An almost euphoric anger fills me, making me feel lightheaded and like I’m in a dream. I can see that we’re attracting lots of attention now. God, I hate rubberneckers, though I would definitely be gawking, too.

  “Don’t do this.”

  Luke’s voice turns pleading as he tries to get me to look at him again. His face is a mix of misery and frustration—and hurt. He reaches for me again, but I jerk away from him. If he touches me, I’ll break.

  “Go back to Kat,” I snap scornfully. “I have nothing to say to you.”

  A heavy hand lands on my shoulder. Javi. “You heard the lady, asshole. Fuck off.”

  “Back the fuck off,” Luke spits out. His gold green eyes look practically radioactive as he stares Javi down. “And get your fucking hands off of her.”

  “Seems like she likes my touch,” Javi replies smugly. “It’s you she has a problem with.”

  At this point, Mike/Mark and Cogs have finally begun to comprehend that Luke isn’t here to shake hands and sign autographs. They crowd around us, backing their friend up, puffing out their chests, and looking pretty damn menacing.

  Luke throws me a hot possessive look before he turns his attention back to the guys. “Move out of the way, Andi,” he orders me, keeping his tone low and even.

  I snort unattractively. What right does he have to look at me like that when he’s the one who betrayed me?!

  I place both hands on Luke’s chest, and push. I feel his muscles tense underneath my palms, and at first he doesn’t budge. Then he allows me to shove him back a few steps. I grab his jaw and yank him down for a kiss that’s both vicious and passionate. Just as abruptly, I push him away. I turn to my three marines.

  “I’ll be waiting outside,” I say, looking each one of them in the eye. “Whoever kicks Mr. Hollywood’s ass can join me afterwards for some hot lesbian sex in my car.”

  Their eyes widen, both in confusion and lust. I don’t know what I mean by lesbian sex. I was trying to think of something that guys would find both dirty and intriguing, but my sexual imagination is not that good and somewhat limited.

  Whatever. I look back at Luke, and he’s staring at me with an unreadable look. “Good luck,” I say with an evil smile. His gaze goes back to the three big boys standing there.

  “Shit,” he mutters under his breath.

  I walk away with an attitude, though my insides are quaking like a laughing Santa’s belly. I manage not to look back once. Even when someone pinches me on the ass. Actually, I can’t be sure. There’s a region back there that has suffered extensive nerve damage from a sports injury years ago.

  It’s raining heavily outside. I lean against a lamp post, shivering. I want to wrap my arms around myself to conserve warmth, but I don’t want a hug—not even from myself.

  He comes out a few minutes later, the glow from the neon lights making his injuries look worse than it probably really is. His left eye looks puffy and red, and his bottom lip is split and bleeding. I don’t care. I’ve seen him in worse shape with a smile on his face.

  He’s not smiling now. “Where’s your car?” he asks in a toneless voice.

  Instead of answering him, I just start walking to the lot across the street. He follows me, and goes over to the driver’s side. He looks at me, probably expecting an argument, but I just toss him the keys and get in the passenger side. I make squishy squeaky sounds against the leather as I hunch down in my seat.

  Luke gets behind the wheel, but doesn’t start the car right away. He gets out his phone and calls someone. I look out the window and watch the rain pelt against the glass as he talks.

  “Hey. I got her. Yeah. No, I’m taking her back to the hotel…yeah, go ahead, I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks, man.”

  He tosses his phone on the dashboard, just staring straight ahead. I sneak a glance over at him, and I notice his hands are shaking. My chest cramps up, and I quickly turn my head again. I don’t care. Finally, the engine roars to life, and we pull out of the lot.

  I’m willing to sit there in stony silence until a thought occurs to me. “How did you find me?” I ask.

  “Micah,” Luke replies shortly.

  He doesn’t have to explain further. Micah is ex-something-badass. He probably has all kinds of shady contacts that can find out what someone had for breakfast in a matter of minutes. I used to try to ask him about his past, but the man is immune to my charms.

  Luke suddenly slams the heel of his hand down on the steering wheel, causing me to jump. “What the fuck were you thinking, Andi?! Those assholes were bad news—they could’ve had you hogtied and in the trunk of their car—and not one of those guys back there would have lifted a finger to stop them!”

  “Why would they have to put me in the trunk? I would have gone with them willingly,” I say reasonably. “As for the tying me up part, I would have been down with that—and anything else they wanted to do to me.”

  “Fuck!”

  “Exactly.” I flash him a deadly smile.

  Luke takes a deep steadying breath. “Look, what you saw back there wasn’t—”

  “Shhhh!”

  I hold a hand to my aching forehead and close my eyes tightly so I don’t have to see the outraged expression on Luke’s face. Nobody shushes LUCAS GREYSON—even before he was all capitals. I don’t care. I don’t want to hear his excuses—or even his voice. Not when I’m shivering and vulnerable, and I feel like I’m bleeding to death inside.

  Thankfully cheater boy remains silent. I can feel his simmering rage heating up the interior of the car. Why is he so pissed? He cheated on me—I had my marines mess his pretty face up. In my book, we’re even. Sort of. No—after I blow up his baby—the 1969 ZL1 Camaro sitting in his friend’s garage in West Covina—then we’ll be even.

  Luke grabs my backpack from the backseat and when I go to protest, he just shoots me a quelling look. I shrug. We manage to get back to his hotel room without him being recognized, unfortunately. He’s got his cap on and keeps his head down low to hide his injuries. I study his face under the fluorescent lights of the elevators, and decide that he doesn’t look as pummeled as I originally thought. Too bad. I briefly wonder what Mike/Mark, Cogs, and Javi look like. I also wonder if anyone called the cops. Probably not. The bar seems like the kind of place you hide dead bodies in. I didn’t use the bathroom the whole time I was there. I’d rather pee myself than go down that abyss of a hallway. The only reason I’m going willingly with Luke right now is so I can use his bathroom. I did drink a lot of soda.

  Luke opens the door for me to go inside, but I flinch backwards. Is she still in there? I almost hope so because she and I need to have words.

  He accurately interprets my reaction, and his expression softens a fraction. “She’s not here.”

  Great. Guess I won’t be burning any beds tonight. Maybe. I stride past Luke on rubbery legs, straight to the scene of the crime: the bedroom.

  My eyes automatically go to the bed. The sheets are rumpled, and the room stil
l reeks of Kat’s expensive perfume. A wave of nausea almost knocks me on my ass as I can’t help but picture them on that bed together. Did she go down on him? Did she touch herself for him?

  What the hell am I doing? Why am I standing here so broken and bleeding? That’s not me. It’s not. I don’t break for anyone—especially cheating ass boyfriends.

  “Andi—”

  “No, it doesn’t matter,” I snarl. “I’m going to take a shower, and then I’m going to leave. And you—you can do whatever the hell you want, Luke.”

  “No, fuck that!” Luke says explosively, blocking my way. “You’re not going anywhere. Just hear me out, okay? I didn’t touch—what are you doing?”

  I don’t reply because the answer is obvious. I’m taking off my shoes and my wet jeans. I leave them in a heap, walking towards the bathroom and pulling my shirt off along the way. I unhook my bra and let it drop, giving him just a peak of side boob before I disappear into the bathroom. Like them apples, asshole?

  I walk in, kicking the door shut behind me. But just before it latches, Luke storms through, slamming the door against the wall with a crash. I quickly cover my chest and glare at him.

  “What the hell?!” I shriek. “Get the fuck out, Luke!”

  “I don’t think so,” he growls, stalking toward me like a deadly predator, and backing me up against the counter. “You wanna punish me with your tits hanging out? Do it right; drop your arms.”

  If looks could kill, we’d both be dead right now. He’s breathing hard, eyes flared and body tensed as if ready for a fight. His one eye is swollen and half shut, the area around it an angry red; the cut on his lower lip clotted over. He is utterly beautiful and more than a little dangerous. I love it when he’s on the edge like this. I love giving him that one tiny push.

  I smile up at him, full of malice. Shrugging with fake nonchalance, I let my arms fall to my sides. Luke immediately looks down, and swears under his breath. His eyes devour me. I stand defiantly in front of him, wearing just my panties and an attitude.