by Lauren Rowe
“So, tell me the truth, guys,” Sasha says, putting down her wine glass. “Are you two really engaged or did you tell Mimi a beautiful lie?”
Savage takes the joint from me. “The engagement part was a beautiful lie, but we really are together and totally committed.” He looks at me, his expression saying, Please, let that be a true statement. And when I smile and nod, Savage grins and exhales in relief.
Sasha takes the joint from Savage and sucks on it. “I figured the engagement had to be a lie for Mimi’s sake. If you’d actually proposed to Laila, you would have spammed me beforehand with a thousand texts. ‘Sasha, how should I ask her?’ ‘Sasha, where should I ask her?’ ‘Sasha, what should I wear when I ask her?’”
Savage chuckles. “I was sixteen and had never asked a girl on an actual date before, dude. You always give me hell about that.”
“It was cute the first ten times.”
“It wasn’t ten times. Three or four, tops. And that was back in high school when I had no game. I’m a grown-ass man now. A rock god, if you haven’t heard.”
“Wait, what?” Sasha deadpans.
“I’m on magazine covers and everything.”
“Wow.”
“I’m also a judge on Sing Your Heart Out.”
“No.”
“True story.”
“Impressive.”
“If I wanted to propose nowadays,” Savage continues, “I wouldn’t need to ask for your or anyone else’s help to do it, any more than I need help walking onstage and performing for tens of thousands of people who’ve paid good money to come see me.”
“Gosh, you’re so fancy.”
“I am. If I wanted to propose, I’d slay that shit, dude, all by myself.”
“Well, pardon me, Mr. Famous. My bad.” Sasha looks at me, her dark eyes sparkling. Clearly, bantering with her cousin is one of the great joys of Sasha’s life. But I can barely function in this moment. Does the cheeky speech Savage just gave signal he’s thinking about proposing to me in the finale, in order to grab that bonus the producers offered him? I mean, assuming I’m still around by then. Frankly, I wouldn’t blame him if he did it. In fact, I want him to do it to earn himself some easy money. Plus, I can’t deny the idea that I might get to look into The Beast’s eyes and hear him say those magical words—”Will you marry me, Belle?”—is incredibly exciting to me. Even though my brain would understand the fakeness of the moment, my heart would nonetheless enjoy getting to feel, if only fleetingly, like a princess in a fairytale.
Sasha picks up her wine glass again, while I pick up my whiskey. “Well, I’m glad you told Mimi such a lovely lie. I can’t remember the last time I saw her smiling that big.”
Savage replies to his cousin, and an entire conversation ensues, but my attention is flickering in and out. I’m bursting at the seams to tell Savage about my epiphany on the staircase—namely, that I saw him with Sasha in Las Vegas, and every action and reaction of mine since then has been tainted by that misunderstanding. I should wait to tell him everything in private, I decide, since my revelation about Sasha will undoubtedly make a whole lot of other dominos fall—dominos that will surely whip up quite a bit of emotion inside me. But, still, I can’t resist asking Sasha a few pointed questions about that fateful day.
I wait for a lull in the conversation between Savage and his cousin, and then ask, “Sasha, did you ever visit Adrian during our tour?”
She nods. “Once. Your show was brilliant, Laila.”
“Thank you. Which show did you see?”
“Las Vegas. It was Adrian’s birthday weekend. Our birthdays are five days apart, so he flew me and a couple of my friends to Las Vegas to celebrate, as a birthday gift to me.”
“No, flying you to Vegas was my birthday gift to me,” Savage corrects.
Sasha rolls her eyes. “See what I’m dealing with here? This year, he flew me and my friends to Vegas. Last year, he bought me a house for my birthday. And all I ever give him as a birthday present is the same thing, every year: a bottle of his favorite whiskey and an extra-long massage.”
“That’s all I ever want,” Savage says.
“Speaking of me giving you a massage,” Sasha replies. She raises her palms and kneads the air, like she’s massaging invisible shoulders. “Let me at that famous body!”
Savage chuckles. “I think I’ll take a rain check, actually.” He looks at me and his dark eyes flicker with heat. “No offense, but I’d rather get my knots out a different way tonight.”
“Oh,” Sasha and I say at the same time.
Savage stands and extends his hand to me. “Come on, Fitzy. Time for bed.” As I take his hand and rise from the couch, Savage says to his cousin, “I don’t care what time it is, or what X-rated noises you might hear coming out of my room, if Mimi takes a turn or wakes up and needs me—"
“I’ll get you,” Sasha interrupts. “I’ve already told Stuart the same thing. If Stuarts knocks on my door, then I’ll immediately knock on yours.”
“Thanks.” Savage grips my hand. “Goodnight, Sasha.”
“Goodnight. Thank you for coming, Laila. Mimi was so excited to hug you.”
“There’s no place I’d rather be,” I say. I smile at Savage, letting him know my words are sincere, and then we walk hand in hand through the large house to the bedroom where Savage stowed his suitcase earlier.
“Wait here,” he commands, guiding me to sit on the end of the bed. When I’m situated, he wordlessly leaves the room, leaving me whispering to myself, “Okay, then, goodbye.” But a moment later, Savage returns, carrying my suitcase, which he pointedly sets down in a corner. It’s his way of telling me I’m staying with him during this trip, obviously. And he’ll get no argument from me.
“Thank you,” I say.
“No. Thank you,” he replies, taking a seat next to me.
He reaches for me, obviously intending to kiss me. But I stop him with my palm.
“You’re not going to ask me why I’m not mad at you anymore?”
“No,” he says flatly. “I don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth.”
With burning eyes, he begins fiddling with my shirt, clearly intending to remove it, but I touch his hand, stopping him.
“Hang on,” I say softly. “I need to explain myself to you. There’s something important I figured out when I saw you walking down the staircase with Sasha.”
Savage looks confused by that comment, but he whispers “okay” and waits for whatever is coming next.
I clear my throat. My heart is racing. “When you texted me your room number in Las Vegas and asked me to come to your room after the show—”
“More like I begged you to come.”
“I did, Savage. I came to your room. And not after the show, but within minutes of receiving your text. In fact, I practically sprinted to your room.”
“What?”
“When I got to your floor and started walking down the hallway toward your room, you happened to get off an elevator in front of me. You had your arm around a beautiful brunette, who I thought was a groupie—"
“Sasha,” he whispers.
I nod. “I assumed you were bringing her to your room for sex, the same way you’d brought those groupies to my dressing rooms.”
He palms his forehead. “Oh, God.”
“Only this time, you couldn’t possibly be flaunting her in my face to get a rise out of me. This time, there was no mistaking your intentions. It was the real deal. Or so I thought. In my mind, you were taking a woman to your room for sex, mere hours after having amazing sex with me, and mere minutes after you’d begged me to come to your room.”
Savage exhales loudly and groans out, “I can’t believe it.”
“I wanted to believe it was some kind of misunderstanding,” I say. “So, I tiptoed closer and eavesdropped on your conversation. And that’s when Sasha said, ‘Let me get my hands on that body!’ Or something along those lines. And I lost it. I sprinted away and texted Charlie to meet me i
n the gym. And then, during my workout with Charlie, I got a second text from you, telling me you couldn’t stop thinking about me—that you were lying there thinking about me.”
“I was! I sent that right after my birthday massage!”
I groan. “When I got that second text, I was so grossed out. I thought, ‘Okay, this guy is a sex addict or a sociopath or both. Did he text me while that groupie was riding his cock, or did he have the decency to wait for her to go into the bathroom?’”
“Oh my God. Finally, everything makes sense!”
“I blocked your number after I got that second text, and I promised myself I’d never speak to you again. That’s why I got so mad about Charlie yesterday. I’ve been turning myself into a pretzel, trying to forgive and forget about that ‘groupie’ in Las Vegas. Trying to reconcile the Savage I’ve come to know with the asshole who brought a groupie to his room, mere minutes after begging me to come there. I was angry you—a hypocrite who’d fucked a multitude of groupies on tour—couldn’t handle the thought of me having a nice little tour fling with the fitness trainer on tour!”
Savage looks absolutely floored. “Everything would have been so different, if only you’d come to my room two minutes later. I would have already been in there with Sasha. I would have introduced you. I would have told Sasha to leave.”
“She said she wanted to get her hands on you! She squealed and said she was excited to be there. After all the groupies I’d caught you with prior to that, there wasn’t a shred of doubt in my mind what I was seeing.”
Savage runs his hand over his chin. “Laila, I waited up all night after that Vegas show, positive you’d come to your senses and come to me. Every noise I heard in the hallway made me leap out of bed and peek through the peephole. Every time, I was positive you’d be standing there. But you never were. Rinse and repeat, in each new city. I’d lie awake in bed, alone, every night, praying you’d finally show up. When you seemed so cozy with Charlie, I figured that had to be the reason you didn’t want me. Otherwise, I couldn’t understand. How was it possible that night in Phoenix hadn’t rocked your world the way it’d rocked mine?”
My heart is crashing my chest. “I’m so sorry.”
“I’ve been a madman, Laila. Totally and completely obsessed with you, and trying to understand the enigma that is your brain. I’ve been so confused. Feeling so rejected.”
“Oh, baby.” I touch his face. “You sat alone in your room every night for the entire last month of the tour?”
“Not only the last month. I did the same thing the first two months of the tour, as well.” He smiles. “Sweetheart, I haven’t been with anyone but you since I laid eyes on you at Reed’s party.”
I gasp. “But . . . what about that waitress in New York?”
“I didn’t even call her. And all those groupies were a set-up, too. I sent them packing right after you caught me with them. I was an asshole, Laila. Pissed I’d decided to step aside for Kendrick. Jealous you wanted an asshole like Malik, instead of me.”
“No. I only wanted you, from the second I saw you at Reed’s. I lied about Malik. We never had an actual relationship. Just one date before the tour and some texting. We never even came close to having sex. You’re the only one I’ve been with since I first laid eyes on you at Reed’s. The only one I’ve wanted for so long.”
Savage looks like his brain is melting. “But . . . you and Malik couldn’t keep your hands off each other in New York—and you were constantly on the phone with him after that.”
I shake my head. “My ‘relationship’ with Malik was a lie that kept snowballing on me. On day one of the tour, I could tell Kendrick was interested in me, but I already had my sights set on you. So, when he mentioned he’d seen a photo of me at Malik’s game, I went with it. I said Malik was my boyfriend. But it wasn’t true. That game was our only date. During the tour, Malik texted me pretty persistently, but I wasn’t interested. And then, he told me he was coming to the show in New York—and not because I’d invited him, by the way. So, I said he could be my plus-one at Reed’s dinner party afterward. But I only brought him there to get a rise out of you. I couldn’t understand why you always ignored me. Why you never hit on me. I thought maybe if you saw a guy like Malik all over me, it’d finally spur you into action. But all you did was get that waitress’s number and scream at me to give Kendrick a shot.”
“Oh, fuck.”
“Babe, I kicked Malik to the curb right after dinner—literally, during the car ride from the restaurant to our hotel.”
“No!”
I nod furiously. “I told Malik to fuck off and never contact me again. And I haven’t spoken to him since.”
“You faked all those phone calls with Malik after New York?”
“Every single one. The same way you faked all those groupies, apparently.”
“Holy fuck,” he whispers. “Kendrick said we’re the same person in male and female forms . . .”
“I thought for sure you had sex with that waitress in New York!”
“Nah, I only got her number to piss you off. After our fight on the sidewalk, I stumbled back to my hotel room, punched a hole in the wall, barfed my guts out, and passed out.”
“And then dragged your sorry ass to Alessandra’s music video shoot the next day.”
“Only because I knew you’d be there, without your asshole boyfriend. That’s the only reason I showed up, Laila. Not for Reed. Not for Alessandra or Fish. But to see you, without Malik hanging all over you. I kept my word and showed up because I wanted you to like me.”
“How was I supposed to like you when all you talked about when you got there was the hot sex you’d had all night and day with the waitress?”
“I was fighting fire with fire! You went on and on about your hot night with Malik!”
“Because I was jealous about the waitress!”
“Well, I was jealous about Malik.”
“I’m positive you bragged about the waitress first.”
“No, it was the other way around.”
We both burst out laughing.
“Wait, what were you doing in that hot tub in Phoenix at three in the morning? I assumed you were drowning your sorrows about that video of Malik getting head.”
“I was drowning my sorrows,” I admit, “but not about Malik. I mean, yes, that video of him did embarrass me. I’d been romantically linked to Malik online, thanks to that photo of me cheering him on at his game. So, yes, it was embarrassing to think the world was wondering if he’d cheated on me. But, mostly, I was sitting there thinking about you. Kendrick had invited me to your birthday party earlier that night, and I was sitting there feeling bummed that things had gotten so bad between us, I didn’t even feel like I could come to your birthday party. I was drowning my sorrows that my hot crush had turned out to be a rockstar cliché asshole who hated me, and I couldn’t understand why.”
Savage smiles wickedly. “You sneaky little freak. You let me think we had revenge sex that night.”
I return his smile. “That was your assumption, so I let you keep thinking it. It made the sex extra hot, didn’t it?”
His dark eyes flash with heat. “It sure did. Hot as hell.”
I run my fingertip up his forearm. “If it makes you feel better, we really did have hate sex that night. I didn’t fake that part.” I wink. “Or any of my three orgasms.”
“Well, duh.” He bites his lip. “I’m so hard right now, baby. I feel like a five-hundred-pound elephant has finally gotten off my chest.”
“Me, too.”
“Laila, I’m so sorry I punched a hole in the wall in your dressing room. It’s no excuse, but I’ve been slowly going insane since the tour, trying to understand why you didn’t want me the way I wanted you. Trying to understand pieces of a puzzle that just didn’t fit together. When I saw you with Colin, I thought I’d lost you for good. I promise I’ll never do that again, or anything else to scare or hurt you.”
“I know you won’t. I trust you
, Adrian. But I do think you should get some therapy, like I said to Mimi. There’s no shame in that. You’ve been through a lot. Maybe a professional could help you work through some stuff.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.”
“So will I.”
“Please forgive me for all the ways I’ve screwed up,” he says.
“We’ve both screwed up. Please forgive me.”
“You were fighting fire with fire. I was the bigger asshole.”
“We were both assholes,” I say. “Can we please press the reset button, for real now?”
Savage nods and leans in and kisses me. And that’s all it takes to light our fuse. In a frenzy, we begin pulling our clothes off, both of us desperate to consummate our new beginning by fusing our bodies. Once naked, we tumble onto the bed and kiss passionately. We grope and grab and caress and stroke. Until, finally, Savage sinks himself inside me, all the way, and begins gyrating enthusiastically on top of me in a way that feels totally new. Now that we’re finally free of the past, it’s clear to me how much it was weighing us both down. How much it was holding us back. Speaking for myself, all my walls are down now. I’m no longer protecting my heart. In fact, I’m giving it to Savage in this moment, with both hands. Take my heart, Savage. Take me. I’m all yours.
“You’re the only one I want, Laila,” he whispers into my ear, as his body invades mine, over and over again. As our chests rub together with each thrust.