by Nicola Haken
Sawyer is hiding from the world.
He’s hiding from himself.
And I’m going to find him.
Chapter Three
“I’m sorry, Sawyer,” Jake apologised. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just imagine this life can get pretty lonely at times.”
Damn right it can, but I didn’t want him of all people to know that. Why? I’m not really sure. Maybe because it always did annoy me that he could read me so well, and I don’t want anyone having that kind of power over me.
“Forget it, man. I shouldn’t have snapped, been a long day, that’s all.”
“You sound different,” he said, stroking the stubble on his chin between his thumb and forefinger. I tried to reply but found my lips were so suddenly dry that they’d stuck together. I licked them slowly, unable to take my eyes of his fingers caressing his strong chin. Clearly, I’d had too much to fucking drink. “Your accent,” he added. “You’ve got an American twang to it. You use American words.”
“Well, my base is in L.A. When we’re not touring I spend all my time there. Guess some of the lingo must’ve rubbed off on me. You sound just the same.” In fact if I were to close my eyes and listen to him speak, his voice could easily take me back to when we were seventeen.
“I am the same, Sawyer. And so are you.” I pursed my eyebrows, confused by the obvious hidden meaning in his tone. “You’re still afraid.”
“Afraid?” I questioned, my voice breaking as it fought past the lump in my throat. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Jake stood, stepped around the glass coffee table and perched on the end of it so our knees were almost touching. My heart stopped, my head swam, and my mouth was coated in sandpaper.
“Admit that being this close to me is affecting you,” he challenged.
“Don’t do this, Jake,” I croaked – my voice weak and uncertain. “Not again.”
Just when I thought he was about to lower his hands onto my knees, my breath hitched and he stood from the table.
“I know you, Sawyer. Always have, always will.” Bizarrely, I didn’t doubt that, and it unnerved me. “I’m not letting you go a second time.”
“You can’t be serious. This is a fucking joke right?” Anger forced me to my feet. Jake is an inch or two taller than me so I straightened my back, forcing my eyes to his level. “And did you tell my team about your little obsession with me, huh? When you applied for this job? You’d be out on your ass by sunrise if I told them.”
“But you won’t,” he said confidently, and I wanted to punch the smug bastard for being right. We were just inches apart – so close I could feel his breath swim over my face. I had to swallow down the nonsensical lump of emotion swelling in my throat before I could respond. He was right – he was affecting me. And damn if that didn’t make me hate my own fucking guts.
“No, I won’t. If you stop this shit now, keep things professional, then there should be no problem.”
Why did he have to start this shit up again? He’d ruined our friendship once before and now, just as I started to believe we could get that friendship back, he decides he’s intent on ruining it again.
“You will be mine, Sawyer Knight. The faster you try to run the quicker you’ll fall to your knees. Then, Sawyer… then you’ll be too weak to resist.”
“You’re drunk.” He had to be. No sane or sober person would say shit like that on the first day of a new job…or any day, ever. “We’ve had too much to drink. Go back to your room, Jake.”
“Yes, I am drunk,” he admitted. Thank fuck. “But the only factor that plays in this, is that it’s given me the courage to speak my sober thoughts out loud.”
“Jake…” it came out as practically a whimper. I wanted to beg him, plead with him not to keep pushing this, pushing me. I’ll never be who he wants me to be. Everyone wants something different from me and I gave up trying to please them all a long time ago. Am I hiding the real me? Maybe. I wouldn’t even know who the real me is anymore. Whoever he was, he died the day my career was born.
“Goodnight, Sawyer,” he breathed, leaning in to whisper straight into my ear – so close his soft stubble grazed mine for just a second. It was long enough to take my breath away, and then I closed my eyes, refusing to open them until I heard the door close after him.
I can’t deal with this shit now. Trying almost destroyed me once before and so I’m sure as shit not going to put myself through that again. Flopping back onto the plush couch, I didn’t have a fucking clue what I was going to do.
“Hey, Jim,” I greeted, pressing the phone to my ear.
“Blonde or brunette?” he interrupted. Of course he knew why I was calling. There was only ever one reason I called him so late at night, and that was when I needed to distract myself for a couple of hours. I’d barely opened my mouth to say ‘either’ when there was a knock on the door to my suite.
“Never mind,” I snapped down the line before hastily ending the call. Then, getting up from my seat and fixing my robe in place, I walked over to the door, sucking in a breath as I prepared to rip whoever it was a new asshole.
“You didn’t text,” Elle scolded, brushing past me and waltzing straight over to the plush couches. Pete, another member of our security team, and the one who’d clearly escorted Elle to my room, gave me a firm nod before disappearing down the hall.
“Sorry,” I muttered, sighing as I kicked the door closed behind me.
“Come sit with Aunty Elle,” she cooed with that bright smile of hers as she patted the couch next to her. She wore her long, blonde hair up today. Perfectly styled of course, which is why she is the band’s head stylist on our UK tour dates, and the occasional European leg if she can leave the salon. Elle went into hairdressing on a whim after leaving college. It sparked an interest in her she didn’t know was hiding, and within just two years of getting her NVQ she opened her own salon in London.
Hair Design by Elle, began as a small backstreet shop offering cheap cut and blows to old ladies. It didn’t take long for her to make a name for herself once the trickle of younger clients started coming to her. They spread the word, telling their friends who told their friends who told their friends… you get the idea. Six months later she moved to bigger premises on the high street, and six months after that, she was booked a month in advance at a time.
She’s cut my hair since before she even qualified – I was her ‘dummy’. So naturally when the band took off, so did Elle. Suddenly everyone wanted their hair styling by the same woman who dressed the hair of Sawyer Knight, and within weeks Elle Wilson was a prominent name in the world of fashion and beauty. Of course, some people challenged her, accused her living off the success of the band, but her work speaks for itself.
She’s worked her way up in the industry by working her tiny ass off. She attends, and even co-organises some, fashion and beauty events, and is now a well respected and admired member of her profession. That has nothing to do with the band, that’s all on her.
“What’s up with my muscle man, huh?”
An involuntary smile crept onto my face. She began calling me muscle man when I started hitting the gym when I turned eighteen. Elle is the only person who can get away with calling me shit like that and she knows it, too.
“I met our new head of security today,” I confessed, getting straight to the point. There was no point trying to lie to Elle. Sometimes I think she knows me better than I know myself. Fuck that, she definitely knows me better than I know myself.
“Aaaaand?” She drew out the word, clearly failing to see the importance.
“It’s Jake.”
“Jaaaake?” she pressed, confusion forcing her eyebrows together. Then it hit – the realisation. “Wait, Jake? Jake Reed? Jake, best friend until you kissed him, Jake?”
“I didn’t kiss him,” I snapped. “He kissed me.”
“Whatever. Let’s not go over the specifics again,” she said with a teasing smile. “So how do you feel?”
; “I don’t know.”
“Sure you do. Tell me.”
“Pleased. Confused. Angry.”
“Angry?”
“He seems to want to pick up exactly where we left off. He… he told me I would be his. Can you believe that shit?”
“Wow. Ego much?”
“Exactly. I don’t know why he even thinks I’m… that way.”
“You can say the word, you know. It’s not contagious.”
Ignoring her, I continued. “I’ve never given him any reason to think I’m, I dunno, into him. Why does he have to keep fucking everything up? I didn’t think I’d ever see him again and now I feel like I’m seven-fucking-teen again.”
“Sawyer,” she said quietly, seriously, and I knew what speech was coming. “Why are you so against being who you are?”
“Please don’t start this bollocks, Elle.” Why does everyone seem to know ‘who I am’ when ‘I’ have no fucking idea?
“Don’t you dare get pissed off with me. It’s the truth and you know it. When we left sixth form, when you started-”
“That was a mistake. I don’t want to rake over that crap.”
The truth is, Jake does affect me – just like he did all those years ago. I’d had ‘thoughts’ about other guys before that day, but I put it down to haywire teenage hormones. A phase. I convinced myself it was normal. Then, when he kissed me… and my body responded in a way it had never done before with a girl, it confirmed what I’d always suspected but refused to admit.
I thought I was gay. ‘Thought’ being the operative word. So, after leaving sixth form, I experimented a little. It wasn’t hard to meet willing guys in some of the clubs we gigged in, and I needed to prove my suspicions wrong. So I did. Over the course of a few months I accepted the odd blowjob from a couple of guys I barely knew. While they were the best orgasms of my life, I also realised if I closed my eyes it was really no different to fucking a girls mouth. Therefore, decision made. I wasn’t gay. I’m not gay. I can get whatever I need from a woman and that has served me okay this far.
“You were happy then, Saw.”
“I’m happy now,” I countered.
“Bullshit. You’re afraid.”
“DAMMIT, ELLE!” I yelled, jumping from the couch and stomping over to the minibar. Plucking out a full-sized bottle of whiskey, I took an eager glug straight from the bottle. “People need to quit making out like they fucking know me!”
“You’re saying I don’t know you? You’re my best friend, Sawyer. I do know you.”
After another swig of my medicine of choice, I twisted the cap back on sighed heavily.
“I’m going to have to see him every damn day and I don’t know how to deal with it. If he keeps it up, I’m going to have to get him fired.”
“You won’t do that.”
“Stop it, Elle! I mean it. You don’t know how far I’d go and neither does he.”
“Have you told him where to go? That you’re not interested?”
“Of course I have.”
“Then he’ll get the message and back off. Don’t worry about this, Saw. If you’re not interested then it’s really no different to the hundreds of groupies who lust after you every day. Just ignore him, and he’ll give up.”
“I don’t have to see the same groupies every day. I don’t have to talk to them. They don’t get to come into my personal space. This is different.”
“Only if you let it be. If he keeps harassing you when you’ve told him he’s out of line, that’s just creepy. Thinking about it, he always was a weirdo in school. No one ever hung around with him. I always thought he would turn out to be a murderer or a paedo or something.”
“Don’t say shit like that,” I snapped. “He’s nothing like…” I trailed off when I saw her plump red lips turn up into a smirk. She only said those things to get a reaction out of me and I stupidly fell for it. “You barely knew him at school. I don’t think you guys ever even spoke to one another.”
“Busted,” she said, winking at me. “But it hurt you didn’t it? To hear bad things being said about him?”
“I’d feel uncomfortable hearing bad shit about anyone, Elle.”
“Bollocks. One thing you don’t do, Sawyer Knight, is empathy.”
“Are you saying I’m heartless?” I shot back, jerking my neck to the side in surprise.
“No. I’m saying you don’t let yourself feel.”
“Ah, come on now. This is all getting a bit too philosophical for my taste. What’s next? You want me to fall to my knees and start thanking God for his guidance?”
“Fine. You don’t want my advice? Deal with this shit on your own.” Fuck. She was pouting. Elle is the only woman in the world who can pout like that and make me feel like the biggest jerk on the planet.
“Sorry,” I muttered genuinely, settling back onto the couch beside her and putting my hand on her knee. “Today’s been intense. It went to shit the minute I turned up at that fucking interview.”
Welcoming the subject change, I told Elle all about the interview which Claire, the PR manager from hell, had arranged for me to do solo. Except I don’t really feel that way about Claire, she’s like a mother to me. To all of us. The conversation involved lots of swearing, huffs and eye rolls, but by the end of I felt a lot less agitated and ready to face tomorrow.
“You staying here tonight?” I asked Elle when I heard my bed calling my name.
“Can’t. I’ve got to pack my things for the shoot tomorrow.”
“Oh fuck. I forgot about that.”
I hate photo shoots almost as much as I hate interviews. They involve people, and as a general rule, people piss me off.
“You’re getting so bloody miserable in your old age,” she chided with a playful nudge to the shoulder. “Go and sleep off this foul mood. Then rehearse your arse off in the morning and I’ll see you at the studio in the afternoon.”
“Sure. I’ll call Pete to come take you home.”
“Thanks,” she said as I reached for the phone. I told Pete what I wanted him for and he said he’d be straight round. “Call me in the morning,” Elle said before kissing my cheek, hovering in the doorway as she waited for Pete. “And fucking smile! It doesn’t hurt I promise.”
“Love ya, gorgeous girl.”
“Love ya back, muscle man.”
Pete was at my door within one minute. We were taking up the entire top floor of the hotel and security staff were positioned in rooms in between each band member.
Jake’s room was next to my suite – literally touching it. We probably shared the same walls. Fuck.
I felt the stirrings of an erection before I’d even loosened my robe to look down at myself. Yep, there it was. My rigid cock stared up at me, mocking me, enticing me. “Damn him!” I cussed out loud. This is the response my traitorous body has at the simple knowledge Jake is in the next room.
No.
This had nothing to do with Jake. This was a normal bodily reaction to the fact I hadn’t had any pussy action in several days. As soon as I’d relieved the pressure, any thoughts of Jake would disappear and I could go to sleep.
That’s what I told myself as I flopped back onto the bed, letting my robe fall to the side as I gripped my throbbing cock in my hand. I started with gentle strokes, forcing myself to remember the girl I fucked three nights ago in New York. I didn’t pay much attention to her face, but she had golden hair that spilled over her shoulders, tits so huge Matt said he would be wanking to the memory of them for years to come (he had her the next night), and a pussy so tight I wondered if she’d ever let anyone fuck her before.
Remembering the sight of me entering her from behind had me stroking myself harder. I had my fingers wrapped so tightly around myself it almost hurt, then I yanked them away when the memory of Jake’s hand pressed against my jeans-clad cock, over ten years ago, infiltrated my thoughts. I was too frustrated to stop. I needed this release. I needed to get rid of the sexual tension so I could look at Jake as just my friend.
So, with that in mind, I allowed myself to think of him. Just this once I would let my mind wander to the place I always stopped it from going. I would think of him only until I’d come, and then I would put this inexplicable draw to him away for good.
I ran my thumb over my tip, circling the tender head before smoothing a drop of pre-cum down my shaft, making it glisten beneath the light shining down on me. I let myself remember his kiss as I locked my fingers around my length and started moving them up and down. It was ten years ago, but if I closed my eyes I could still taste him. I could still feel him. I could still smell him.
I imagined him as the man he is now, not as the boy he was then. I pretended he was right here with me, kissing me with the same tender lips I’d experienced just once before. I cupped my balls with my free hand, slowly rolling them between my fingers and imagining it was Jake who was doing it. I groaned at the thought, biting my lip as I imagined him replacing his wandering hands with his tongue.
Strokes turned to rough tugs and my back instinctively arched into the mattress, forcing myself further into my hand. I pumped at the same speed Jake’s mouth was going in my imagination and when tingling heat started building in the base of my spine, I tore my hand from my balls and gripped the sheets, squeezing them as pure pleasure started attacking my body.
My hips bucked, thrusting me faster and harder into the image of Jake’s mouth etched on the back of my eyelids. I saw his blue eyes looking up at me, twinkling with pride and satisfaction. It spurred me on and I tugged harder, moaning into the empty air. I looked past his dark cropped hair and imagined what the muscles on his back would look like as they flexed with the movement of his head bobbing up and down.
The heat soared through my hips, surging straight to my balls and drawing them up inside me. I was almost there. My cock was twitching in my hand begging for more friction. The red tip glistened, encouraging me… and in one last moment of defiance, I allowed myself to breath his name.