To Be Your Last

by Rae Kennedy

  Colin is mostly silent. I’d forget he was there if I couldn’t feel his body hot under mine. Dean is sitting next to me and I try to talk with him, but he keeps getting distracted looking at the bartender across the room.

  “Does he keep looking over at me or am I imagining things? Do you think he’s interested?” Dean asks, becoming bolder and making eyes at the bartender in the tight white shirt, shaved head, and bushy beard.

  “I don’t know.” He seems to just be working to me.

  Colin’s hands slide down from my hips to rest on my bare thighs. Still low, just above my knees.

  “Maybe you should go talk to him,” I offer to Dean, my voice sounding higher than normal.

  Warm fingertips sweep in easy circular motions along my legs, lightly, just like he does on my arms. Heat sizzles under my skin and my inner thighs are tingling. Whatever.

  I guzzle down my drink and immediately order another.

  I smile at Dean, who is still grappling with the idea of engaging the bartender in probatory conversation when Colin’s fingers touch the edge of my skirt.

  I finish my drink and my skin feels entirely too hot.

  His knuckles graze my thighs as he plays with the hem of my skirt, and my heart is pounding. I can hear it beating in my ears and feel the pulse between my legs. It’s a throb and an ache and I squeeze my thighs together. As I squirm on his lap I feel it—hard against my rear. The unmistakable feel of Colin’s erection.

  Oh my... oh holy fucking shit. Why don’t I have another goddamn drink in front of me right now? I don’t know what to do with myself. It’s still firmly pressed against my ass and I try not to move. It’s probably nothing, really. He has a female sitting on his lap—it’s more than likely only physiological.

  But when I reach for my drink in hopes I can suck any remaining booze from the ice cubes, I inadvertently rub up against it. He immediately grips my hips, holding them firmly as if in warning. I can still feel him big and hard under me and the throbbing between my legs just wants to be subdued. A big smile crosses my face when I think about how good it would feel...

  I roll my hips against him deliberately, a soft gasp escaping my lips.

  His fingers dig into my hips and I feel a deep rumble in his chest at my back. Is he mad?

  But then his lips are at my neck, laying hot kisses on my sensitive skin. He nips at my ear as I rock back against him again. His hands on my hips don’t stop me, in fact they move with my hips, encouraging me to grind on his dick faster.

  “Do you like this?” he asks in my ear, his voice low and hoarse.

  “Mm hm.” I bite my lips to keep from panting. My heart is racing and my breathing is fast and shallow.

  Dean turns to me, grinning after having made some sort of successful eye contact with the bartender. One look at my face—which is probably flushed—and my death grip on the edge of the table and his smile turns impish.

  “You two look like you’re ready to head back to your room.” He gives me an approving nod.

  “Sounds like a good idea,” Colin says, voice still husky at my neck. “You want to go back to our room, Gray?”

  CHAPTER 13

  “Yes.”

  It comes out more of a quivering moan than anything. But I mean it. I want to go back to the room with him. I want him to touch me more, in private. And I want to feel him too. I don’t know if I’ve wanted something more.

  The hotel is only a couple blocks away from the bar and Colin keeps his hand on my lower back the whole way. Our steps hurried. Eager.

  My insides are a frenzy of jumbled nerves as we ride the elevator to the third floor in palpable silence. My hands are sweaty, my heart doesn’t know whether to pump like crazy or stop altogether as I wait for Colin to open the door.

  As soon as we’re in, his touch is gone. His face is in his hands, rubbing up and down with his palms and around his eyes.

  “Did I embarrass you or make you uncomfortable?” he asks, looking pale.

  “What? Why would you think that?”

  “You said you wanted to come to the room so we could take a break, yeah?”

  What? Wait—go back to the room is code for stop? When did we establish this?

  Outside this room we’re us, inside we’re just you and me. No. No no no no no.

  “It was good timing, actually—” Colin paces in front of the foot of his bed, massaging the side of his neck.

  Thankfully this means he can’t read the horror and disappointment that’s surely written on my face.

  “I was getting carried away and you had a bit too much to drink,” he says.

  I want to remind him that I told him I liked it, and that I wasn’t lying. But my throat is tightening up. Maybe he wasn’t enjoying it as much as I thought. Maybe he really was pretending.

  “I’m not drunk, and you didn’t make me uncomfortable. It’s fine.”

  Relief washes over his face. “Good. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think I was trying to take advantage of our arrangement.”

  I try to muster up all of the conviction I don’t feel.

  “Of course not.” My voice is small. Don’t let your smile fall. Of course he wouldn’t dream of taking advantage of the little girl. “Excuse me.”

  I go to the bathroom and shut the door, unable to hold the mask on my face anymore. The door is cold and hard against my back, my fingers clutch tight to the knob and I squeeze my eyes closed.

  This is all just pretend. It isn’t real. He doesn’t want to be with you.

  I don’t think I’ve been standing here long but then his deep voice breaks through the sounds of my breathing.

  “You okay in there, Gray?” He’s close, just on the other side of the door.

  I step gingerly away from the door and turn on the faucet, letting the water crash into the sink.

  “Yeah, just getting ready for bed.”

  I let the water run until it’s pleasantly warm, trickling over my palms. I wash my makeup off my face and then take out my braids, combing my fingers through my hair as it falls in loose waves.

  When I come out into the room, Colin is lying on his bed, propped up on his side, his black notebook spread open on the cream damask duvet.

  He looks up at me. “Hey. Are you wanting to go to bed right now? I can go hang in one of the guys’ rooms and let you sleep.”

  It’s almost one in the morning, but that’s still quite early according to Rockstar time.

  I hesitate for a second.

  “Or...we could hang out and watch a movie...if you want,” he adds.

  Colin wants to...hang out?

  “Were you working on something there?” I point to his notebook.

  “Yeah, I got a couple more lines for that song. Do you want to see?”

  I sit cross-legged on the bed in front of him and he slides the book to me. He comes closer to lie next to me as I read, the side of his stomach brushes my thigh.

  Every time it replays in my mind, the knife in my back

  How she smiled to my face and took everything I have

  But still, I’d give more to you

  If you wanted me to

  My heart stutters in my chest when I read it and I can feel the tension rippling off him. Every word raw. I don’t know why it feels so personal to me. It’s not like it’s about me.

  “This is about your last few relationships?”

  He nods.

  “They all lied to you?”

  “They all cheated on me.”

  “Oh.” Wow. “I’m so sorry.”

  He runs his hand over his short, black hair, looking down at the bed. “It’s pretty common, I guess, when you’re on tour months at a time. Guys cheat on their girlfriends on the road, and the ones left home get lonely. It’s almost expected. Accepted. Probably why I’ve just stayed single for so long.”

  “Did you ever cheat on them?”

  He looks at me, blue eyes steady. “No.”

  “And the relationships were all pretty serious?”


  “Yeah. Well, I thought so.”

  “You really don’t do casual hook-ups do you?”

  “Nope.”

  For some reason, it feels like a little flicker of hope is snuffed out. Good.

  Knock that shit off, Gracie. Nothing is happening between you and Colin.

  “The worst part," Colin continues, looking off, lost in thought, “about being cheated on, isn’t even the break-up—it’s the embarrassment. The humiliation that you weren’t enough for the person and everyone knows it.”

  I have the urge to take his hand, to comfort him. But I don’t.

  “Being betrayed and humiliated by someone you cared for, trusted is the worst. I know all about it,” I say.

  He tilts his head, a small crease forming between his brows. “Tell me.”

  I hate talking about this. But he’s been so open, I want to reciprocate.

  “My last boyfriend”—I’ve only had two, but whatever—“he broke up with me after I told him I didn’t want to have sex yet. Then he told the whole school how much of a prude I am, and how it took months for me to even go down on him.” My cheeks heat as I think of the next part. I almost don’t continue. “He told everyone that when I finally did, I was awful at it. It was a small high school, so when I say everyone heard about it, I mean everyone. From the freshmen to the teachers...”

  I have a hard time meeting Colin’s gaze. But when I do, it’s soft. He shakes his head slightly.

  “He was a fucking idiot. You know that was all about his ego and had nothing to do with you, right?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I know.” Sort of. “But, I mean, it was the first”—and only—“time I’ve done... that. I probably was horrible at it.” I didn’t think it was possible for my face to feel any more flushed, but here we are.

  “Nah.”

  I look at him with a tiny smile. “You can’t know that.”

  “Yep. I can. I’ve been a teenage boy and trust me, a girl putting her mouth anywhere near or around his dick is the complete opposite of horrible. In fact, it was probably the highlight of his pathetic little life up until that point. I bet he blew his load pretty fast.”

  I look down, letting hair fall across my face. “Um, yeah. He did.”

  When I look back up, Colin’s staring at me. He grazes his teeth across his bottom lip and it makes my heart thump.

  After a few beats of uninterrupted eye contact, I let out a high-pitched giggle. “So... the song?”

  “Oh. Yeah.”

  * * *

  It’s back to the bus, back to the tour. Without the refuge of our hotel room, I feel like I’m constantly glued to Colin’s side. Sitting with him at the table while I do a crossword or on the little couch just talking with the guys, close, always so close. I’m finding it easier to lean into his touch, to wrap my arms around him, hold his hand. I look forward to his little hand squeezes and the light kisses on the cheeks when we part.

  He and I work on the song—usually right after we first wake up, before the rest of the guys have stumbled out of their bunks. The bus is quiet except for the sounds of sleep and the soft purr of the engine below foot. It’s funny—I keep finding myself waking up earlier and earlier to walk out to the common space, and he’s always there waiting. I don’t know why he keeps saying he needs my help, he’s written almost every word. Mostly, we just talk about the images and emotions he wants the song to evoke. I’ll say something fairly unextraordinary and he’ll look at me and say, “Hmm,” then he’ll write down a line that’s amazing. He’s much better at songwriting than me. I suppose that’s to be expected.

  Every line has a rhythm, a cadence that pulls me in when he recites them. And when he starts to sing them, even though his voice is barely louder than a whisper, it feels like I’m melting from the inside out.

  We don’t work on the song when the guys are around, though. Logan, Dean and I have been playing a fair share of poker. They’re trying (unsuccessfully) to teach me tricks and techniques to winning. It still seems like mostly luck to me. I’ve also been teaching Joey how to play Sudoku. He spent the better part of four days squinting at the little squares in distrust, like it was a trick or something. But he now has the hang of it, mostly. He can complete the majority of the easy puzzles but says he’s not ready to move on to the medium level ones yet.

  I don’t spend much time in my bunk other than sleeping, but I sometimes look out the little window and try to write. I want to finish this poem about gravity and tidal waves, the sun and the moon—but the idea behind it isn’t solid enough and the words keep dissolving like mist.

  I text Kyla every day and send her pictures to prove I’m still alive and not a catfishing kidnapper. I haven’t told her anything about the Colin arrangement. I don’t want to lie to her or answer a billion rapid-fire questions. Her suggesting I “carpe the dick” almost every day is enough.

  The last several days have been nothing but shows and travel and random gas station stops so I’m ecstatic that the next two shows are in neighboring towns and we get to stay at the same hotel for a few nights in a row. It’s nice to not always be moving.

  * * *

  “You in?” Logan yells at me from across the table.

  The restaurant is crowded and noisy. People are packed around tables, having loud conversations, standing over by the bar, jumping and shouting at the game on the giant television screens, and the sound of dishes clanking, glasses tinging, and silverware scraping fill in all the gaps.

  “For what?” I practically scream back.

  “Poker game. Jace’s room.”

  “Nah, man, we’re out,” Colin calls back, his arm tightening around my waist so that we’re hip to hip.

  Logan pushes out his bottom lip in an exaggerated pout.

  “I’m totally in,” I yell.

  He smiles and gives me the thumbs up. He turns to Joey to his left. “How ’bout you?”

  Joey turns a bright shade of salmon and shakes his head.

  I reach for my drink and I can feel Colin glowering next to me before I even look at him. His mouth is set, jaw tight, eyes trained on me, unblinking.

  I roll my eyes at him as I sip from my straw.

  “What? You can go be a downer in the room all you want. I’m going to go have some fun.” Like, bye, Felicia. I came here to be Fun Gracie, remember?

  His face stays calm and controlled. “Can we talk about it, at least? In the room?”

  “Fine.” But if he starts dictating what I can or can’t do, I’m going to have to put in a request for that amicable break-up. Hey, if he’s going to be a dick, I don’t even care about the amicable part.

  I stuff my hands in my jean shorts pockets as we walk back to the hotel and I’m pleased to notice Colin’s frustration when he goes to hold my hand and can’t.

  I stand in the room with my arms crossed and my hip popped as I wait for him to speak.

  He latches the door and stands in front of me. “I’m sorry I spoke for you. I just... I don’t know. I didn’t think you’d want to do that.”

  I scrunch my face up in confusion. “Do what? Play poker? Why would you assume I wouldn’t want to do that?” I’m more flustered and annoyed than I was two seconds ago before he opened his mouth.

  He scratches along his jaw. “Do you know what kind of poker they’re playing?”

  “Hopefully Hold ‘Em—”

  “Strip poker,” he says, and it seems like he’s standing closer to me now.

  “Oh.” I missed that part of the conversation. Strip poker. I definitely haven’t done that before, but it could be fun. New. I could put it on my Fuck-it list. And he didn’t think I’d want to play.

  Of course not. Not innocent, prude little Gracie Gallagher.

  “Well, you were wrong. I want to play. I think it will be fun.” I stand tall. “And if you’re this controlling as a boyfriend, I think that’s something you need to work on.”

  He quirks an eyebrow at me. “Controlling?” He takes a step toward me.
“You’re free to do whatever you want.” Another step. “I wouldn’t dream of stopping you.” Another step closer. “But if you were actually my girlfriend, I wouldn’t be too keen on the idea of you stripping in front of other guys.” His eyes are spearing into me as he closes the space between us so we’re standing so close I have to tilt my head up to look at him, his chest is almost touching mine. “And if I was your boyfriend,” he says it low and slow, his eyes flickering to my mouth, “I hope you’d only want to strip for me.”

  My chest is heaving with shallow breaths. Holy crap. Are my clothes still on? Because I swear the heat in his stare could easily melt them right off. I swallow hard to stifle the little whimper trying to escape my lips and maybe steady my heart-rate.

  “Good thing I’m not actually your girlfriend, then. Because I’m going to go.”

  “Okay.” He dips his head and steps aside so I have a clear path to the door.

  I throw the door open and huff into the hall. The door clicks behind me and I turn to see Colin standing there.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.

  “If you’re going, so am I.”

  CHAPTER 14

  I slam my cards down. My pair of sevens doesn’t cut it.

  Crap.

  After several rounds of play, I’m down to my bra and shorts. I guess I’m faring just as well as Logan and Jace who, are both in their T-shirts and boxers, and better than Boner Three and the other two girls who are playing with us. He’s only in ill-fitting boxers while the girl next to him is in bra and panties and the girl sitting between Logan and Jace is only in the tiniest of thongs. I think her name is Sheila, and she is not shy at all about sitting there, boobs out. In fact, she’s not shy about telling us how much she paid for them either. They are pretty nice. Not too big, perky.

  Oh my god, I need to stop staring at them.

  “That’s another item off.” Logan smiles as he passes the half-drunk bottle of tequila to Sheila.

  Here goes. I stand up, fingers grasping at the button of my shorts. Colin is watching from the floor next to me as I slide down the zipper and shimmy them down my hips. He’s fully dressed, of course. But he looks away as my shorts fall to the carpet, staring at the bottle of beer sitting between his legs. And when I sit back down next to him, he puts the dark bottle to his lips and guzzles it down, slinging his head back until it’s empty. Muscles flexing in his jaw.