by Nora Flite
Closing my eyelids, I endured a memory; Drez, offering me a forkful of food. And me, as I imagined myself from the outside, leaning in to take it like some pathetic dog.
What made me do that?
I couldn't make sense of anything anymore.
My lungs burned, I breathed out quickly. There was a gentle buzzing of people just around the edges of the building. I could see some of them, and the closer I got, the more their shadowy bodies stood out on the horizon.
On shaking legs, I walked until I was among the throngs of groupies and roadies, everyone that couldn't fit inside the restaurant. Would the recognize me and rush at me, like I was Drez or Porter or Colt? They won't, I realized. No one knows me as a member of Four and a Half Headstones. Not yet.
To these people, in the dark of evening lit only by some lamps and small tin-can fires, I would be a blank face in the crowd.
Maybe, after they see me on stage...
Did I want that kind of attention? Part of me was thrilled by the idea. If—when—I get on stage, if I fuck up like I was doing earlier, these people will remember me for all the wrong reasons.
My teeth hurt from clenching my jaw.
Tonight was so weird. Drez was cold, then he was a magnet, then he was off of me again. Flirting with that girl, talking about Sean like they had some awful history or something.
Reaching for my pocket, I felt for my phone. Sean had told me to talk to him after practice. I was sure he was somewhere nearby, possibly even in the restaurant, hoping to run into me.
Clutching the cold device wasn't comforting. I was tired, a bit drunk, and not sure what to even tell him. Yes, Sean. I fucked up today at my first practice. Why? Because I turned into a sloppy mess around Drezden. I really fucked up. Oh don't worry, I got better. How? I just chewed up my own tongue!
Sean would be pissed, or worse, disappointed if he found out I'd hurt myself just to get some control. After everything I'd worked so hard to get over in the past, I couldn't handle seeing his face scrunch up in shame.
Tomorrow. I'll talk to him tomorrow.
Weaving through the laughing, drunken crowd, I headed towards the tour bus. There were a few men standing near the front door, men I hadn't seen before. They took one look at me, arms folding to transform them into standing walls of muscle. “What is it, little lady?” one of them asked.
Little lady? I almost told him to eat a dick. The edges of my lips felt dry, licking them did little. My near-to-drunk state made my brain muddled. “I need to get inside.”
Their laughter cut deep. “Yeah? Sure you do. Get lost. Unless you want to have some fun with me?” The guard who'd asked that had a jack-o-lantern smile.
Shaking my head, I fought down a wave of frustration. “Let me the fuck inside,” I growled, pushing forward. “I just want to go to sleep!”
I didn't see anyone move, but my back hit the hard cement, all of the wind fleeing my lungs. The spray of starlight overhead felt like I could reach it if I just stretched my arm up. Everything was echoing as if I was underwater. What the hell? Did someone just push me down?
Sitting up on my elbows, ignoring the dull burning on my raw skin, I stared at the guards. “What the hell?” I coughed, forcing in delicious air. Rocking on my side, I stumbled to my feet. “What was that for?”
No sympathy existed in the eyes of those men. Behind me, the sea of people was a background of emotionless ignorance. No one cared about what was happening to me, no one gave a single shit.
Swaying forward, I went to shove one of the guards. I didn't have a plan; I was just bursting with rage that had nowhere to go and enough alcohol to smother my good sense. But I wanted to get even with them—they'd actually pushed me down! This was my tour bus, too. Didn't they understand?
Easily, the guard dodged me. Another pair of hands grabbed me and yanked me sideways. All around me the men roared with laughter. It felt too much like I was being spun on a roller coaster with no end in sight.
Then it did end; I hit the ground, grunting. The motion jolted into my guts. Hunched over with my palms splayed wide, I wasn't proud when I threw up. On hands and knees, shivering in shame, I stared down at my puke and coughed.
My brain itched, recalling a time when I was in middle school. I'd been in a fight with some kids, and I'd ended up just like this; broken, a weak mess.
Pathetic.
Back then, the only person who cared was... was Sean. Lifting my eyes, I fought through my daze and expected to see the face of my older brother. It was a poor wish that went nowhere.
I was alone.
Well, not alone—the guards were a hellish kind of company. One of their hands came down, curling in my scalp. Ripped to my feet, I jabbed an elbow into one of them and shouted, “Let me go!”
"Little bitch actually hit me!" the man growled. My head was yanked back. I couldn't see the sky that time, my vision was spinning too much, but it didn't matter. Behind my eyelids, stars of color bloomed.
I fell again, crumbling in a heap on the asphalt. Bile slid down my chin; I was relieved it wasn't blood. Over me, the voices were loud, the men laughing at me where I was crouched.
They're going to throw me aside, now. And no one will do a thing about it.
The metallic sound of the bus doors opening cut the laughter apart. “What the fuck is going on out here?”
I gazed up at the silhouette of a man who was crafted from sharp edges and wicked shadows. A man who, in just a tank-top and jeans, was more intimidating than the group of guards surrounding me.
Drezden's eyes scalded like acid.
My stomach tightened, I nearly retched again. Drezden seeing me sitting over my own vomit was just what I needed. My shame was complete.
“Sorry, sir,” a gravelly voice said. Hard fingers gripped my upper arm, yanking me to my feet. In spite of my desire to be strong, I gave a pained cry. “Just another drunken whore starting trouble. She was trying to get inside. We'll get her out of the way for you.”
My chin swung, I caught a glimpse of the black clouds that had started to roll in and cover the twinkles of starlight. Walk away and you won't bleed, walk away and I am freed. No more stars, I thought bitterly.
Someone was grabbing me around the middle, hoisting me against their chest. Musk and tobacco filled my world. “You damn idiots,” Drez said over me. “Are you blind? This is Lola Cooper, our new guitarist. Fucking hell, what did you do to her?”
Soft cloth pressed on my cheek. I'm leaning against Drezden's chest. It was a stunning realization. No, even better, he's holding me against him. Looking up, I saw the slightly rough stubble on his lower jaw. I couldn't see his expression, but the raw disgust in his voice said enough.
The guards stammered, speaking over each other. “But she—”
“Shut up, just stop,” Drez snapped. Gently, he guided me to follow him up the steps into the bus. “I'll have Brenda talk to your boss. I should have guessed some a bunch of wanna-be cops wouldn't have a clue who to keep out and who to let inside.”
My shin scraped the top step of the bus as I stumbled. Drezden coaxed me on, helping me into the vehicle. The soft 'whoosh' of the doors shutting behind us was comforting.
Jostled, I let myself be set on one of the seats. My eyesight was blurry, not focusing on anything. Drez's hand took my jaw, forcing me still. Green eyes bore into mine.
Then, I felt clarity.
“Are you alright?” he asked, his forehead crinkling with worry.
I blinked. Then, I blinked again. Am I alright? I wasn't actually sure. My skull felt like someone had used it to play kickball, my insides were painfully empty.
Remembering how I'd vomited outside the bus, I blushed hotly. My mouth still wore the sour taste. “I need a glass of water,” I said, moving to stand.
He pushed me back, not rough, but without any room for question. “Sit. I'll get it for you.”
The singer left me, freeing me from his intoxicating aura. Looking after him, my alcohol-soaked brain began to
work. Studying the burning sensation on my arms revealed that the fall I'd taken at the hands of the security had torn the elbows off my shirt. The skin there was red, exposed.
Drez returned, offering me a cold glass. I took it, the both of us clearly seeing my fingers trembling. Drinking hurt my throat, it made me worry I might vomit again as the cold water hit my empty stomach. Flinching, I wiped at my mouth.
Ultimately, I was fine—a few scrapes at most. The only other damage was to my pride.
That couldn't be fixed with a glass of water.
He sat across from me, squinting so fiercely I couldn't stop myself from squirming. “You're really okay?”
“Yes,” I said softly, eyeing the scrapes on my palms. It was all minor stuff. So why do I feel so awful? Glancing at Drezden, I sipped my water. I was being bullied out there. That must be why I feel so rotten. I was getting assaulted and no one gave a shit.
My fingers squeezed the glass. No, that's not true. Peeking through my eyelashes at Drez, I felt blood surge to my cheeks. Someone did care.
Shaking my head, I looked at the singer, keeping my voice steady. It still sounded like I'd been eating rocks. “Listen, I need to thank you.”
“They'll be fired for this,” he said, showing me his profile; that sharp nose and strong jaw. It was as if he hadn't heard me, he was busy talking to himself. “Bunch of fucking idiots. I've told Brenda, if we're going to hire freelance security, prep them so they don't do shit like this!”
In my chest, my heart slammed against my ribs. “Did you hear—I said thank you. Thank you for saving me out there.”
Turning back, Drez considered me for a long moment. “It was nothing.”
“You could have easily not bothered.”
His palm hit the table, startling me. “Do you honestly think I could have easily ignored what was happening? Fuck, the sound of you throwing up alone was...”
Biting my tongue, the bloom of pain contorted my face.
Drezden's frown created deep rows in his skin. “Stop doing that—hurting yourself. Anyway, forget about what I did. Maybe next time, though, drink a little less.”
Pointedly, I banged the empty glass onto the table. “Thanks! Hey, while we're giving advice, maybe next time don't force me into a drinking contest with you.”
"I didn't force you to do anything," he snorted.
"You were trying to get under my skin all night! Challenging me with your 'tough' beer chugging, forcing me to take that champagne. You're not blameless."
Drez looked away; I regretted my accusation. I was the one telling everyone to stop treating me like I was a fucking child. I was on control of my choices—I'd ordered the damn beer.
I just wanted this night to end.
We sat in tense silence. I would have gone outside if I wasn't worried about facing anyone who'd witnessed me falling apart out there. New guitarist of Headstones vomits on tour! I really prayed no one had gotten a photo. Funny, earlier I was angrier that no one noticed what was happening to me. Now, I want that to be true.
“So,” I started, “You're going to tell Brenda?”
“In the morning. She'll be useless tonight.” Reaching out, he grabbed my forearm. I was too surprised to fight him as he turned my limb over, spotting the blazing crimson scrape and torn fabric. “Shit, let me get something so this doesn't get infected.”
I yanked my arm back, but the damage was done. His touch had my veins pumping. “It's nothing. They're just scrapes.”
“They?” he asked, looking pointedly at my other arm. “You've got more? Come on, come with me to the bathroom.”
I squeezed the edge of the table like it could keep me from having to stand ever again. “Calm down, it's nothing.”
Drezden was not a man to argue with. Reaching out, he tangled his long fingers in the neck of my shirt and pulled. “Get up. Now.”
The cloth stretched, pressing into my skin and coming close to tearing. My gut said to fight, but one look at the heat in his eyes melted my resistance. I was lightheaded when I stood. “There,” I said. “Happy?”
Rolling his eyes, Drez didn't let go. His strength demanded that I follow him as he led me down the aisle like I was on a leash. If the sweater hadn't been ruined by holes already, Drez had now wrecked it by stretching the neck out.
The bathroom was just up the hall from the studio room we'd practiced in. Thinking of our session made me fight him even less; it was a reminder of my failures, of my slow evaporation in Drez's presence.
Who was I anymore?
He pushed me into the bathroom, finally releasing me. “Lift your arms,” he said.
Unsure what else to do, I held up my hands. Grabbing the cuffs, Drezden tore my sweater and my shirt right off of me in one go. My hair fluffed from the motion, brain dazzled by the sudden exposure. In only my white bra, I gaped at his bold action.
Drezden didn't seem to be as amazed. Digging into a cabinet, he set some cotton and bandages on the edge of the sink. “Sit down for a minute.”
That was an easy request. Nearly dropping onto the toilet lid, I shivered in the pallid light from the basic white bulbs. I'd been shirtless around other people before, but this felt... different.
There, sitting under Drezden's shadow, I was vulnerable. His eyes studied me casually, not seeming affected by the same baffling emotions I was. Could that be possible? Was I alone in fighting this back and forth temptation that screamed 'Kiss this man, touch him, just do it!'
I'd had a shower earlier... I felt like a needed another one.
A cold one.
Water ran briefly in the sink. He crouched in front of me, a damp rag in one hand. “Hold still,” he said, so brisk he clearly didn't expect me to argue.
Like a deer in front of a car that was about to smash it to bits, I froze. His strong fingers lifted my arm, dabbing the cloth on my raw flesh. Pain jolted into my nerves, searing and making me hiss.
“Hurts, right?” he asked.
“No,” I said over my numb tongue. “Not at all.”
His sideways smile grew a bud of heat in my blood. “Always acting so tough.”
I watched the way his jugular pulse along his long neck. When he rubbed my wound, I inhaled—and his pulse quickened visibly. “It isn't an act," I said.
“No?” Meeting my gaze, not blinking, he dug the hot cloth into my other arm. It wasn't hard, just enough to make me yelp and give up my act. His throaty chuckle was worse than the pain.
He whispered, “People who put on an act piss me off.”
But I need to be tough. Leaving it unsaid, I watched him bandage my elbows. Around you, I need to be... Callous. Strong.
Without fronting some kind of a wall, who knew what would happen between me and Drezden? I certainly had no clue. That was why I was so fucking nervous. This thing between us, whether it was fanatical adoration or idolization or... or something else I didn't want to name...
I just had no plan on how to deal with it.
My only option was to put up a barrier and hide.
Drezden still held my forearm. Leaning near, the long fibers of muscle in his shoulders flexed. It reminded me of his strength, how easily he had helped me inside of the bus. How he'd saved me from the guards, faced them without a fragment of fear.
The thrum in my heart was distracting. It threatened to climb right up my throat and out of my mouth. I thought, if I spoke, I'd just stutter.
“This tattoo,” he said abruptly, “What does it mean?”
Focusing on my own arm, I scrutinized the beautiful and intricate design he was referencing. It was a castle, a single stone tower wrapped in veins of ivy. Stark black and grey, I'd had to sit for a few hour long sessions to finish it. “Nothing.”
Drezden barely moved. His tiny smirk was a road map to his doubt. I was never a great liar. “It clearly means something.”
Of course it did. It meant everything about my life, about that space of time where I'd let everyone hurt me. When school had been filled with cruel bull
ies and crueler teachers.
The depression that had made a razor my best friend.
I'd been a hollow chunk of myself. This tattoo, though... it represented my restoration. It was the walls that I'd built to keep me from feeling fragile, the ivy a symbol of the music that had brought me back and kept me together.
But I could never explain all that to Drezden.
“You don't look well,” he murmured. His words moved a strand of hair on my forehead. Then, he straight up placed his palm on my skin. He was warm, I was a broiler.
Sucking my teeth, we both heard my throttled whistle. “I'm—I'm fine!” I blurted, twisting away in a panic. Shit, he touched me. Fuck fuck fuck I felt that between my thighs! It had been like he'd reached right inside of me and stroked my center. Except... except more pleasant.
More raw and wild.
I was worked up, sweating and pale. I saw myself in the mirror; my skin was the color of milk. Drezden went to hold me down, saying something about not moving so fast, not to panic. How could I listen to him with my ears thumping?
I wrenched upwards, shoving at his chest and swaying off balance. One of us kicked the other in the ankle; it didn't matter who was to blame. I went from fighting him to grappling with his arms, my world flipping under me as I lost my balance.
“Look out!” he cried, grabbing out for something to stabilize us. Together we tumbled, my legs over my head almost comically. The porcelain of the nearby bathtub rattled as we landed inside, stunning me.
Drezden crashed down on me like a landslide. I coughed, coughing in pained shock, the sickening thud of a skull hitting the wall beside me demanding I focus. “Shit,” I groaned, “Drezden? You okay?”
Fluttering my eyes, I stared into the peaceful face of the singer of Four and a Half Headstones. His weight was heavy, but somehow comforting on me. The red mark on his temple showed where he'd banged his head.
I was too nervous to move or breathe. There was a chance Drezden was hurt. Yet, for me, it was the first time we'd been so close without him paralyzing me with those intense green eyes of his. He wasn't yelling or growling, he wasn't sending iron burrs into my limbs.