I eat my cheeseburger and fries while I scroll on my phone and drink beer after beer. Finally, the TV makes a noise—a beeping sound that signals the countdown is coming to an end—so I lift my head and direct my attention to the screen.
The screen that had been pitch black is now showing a dark stage. I can see what looks to be hundreds of people lined in front of the stage in the darkness. The curtain in the background moves and sways, and slowly, dark figures start making their way on stage. The guitar picks up and I hear her fingers sliding across the strings. Goosebumps pepper my skin as I wait for my first look at her.
Those first few chords turn into an opening of a song, and fire shoots into the air. At the same time, the stage lights come on, lighting up the band. There she is, center stage. She’s dressed in a cropped black lace shirt and a tight black tank top that shows just a sliver of her stomach. She’s wearing knee-high socks and her favorite worn Vans. Her hair is no longer black and purple. The purple’s been stripped out and has changed to green—a bright lime green that seems to blend perfectly into the black with a slight gray color. The camera zooms in on her face and her eyes are wide and shining, lined heavily in black. She’s wearing fake lashes that are super-long and thick, and her plump lips are a deep, dark red. She’s absolutely breathtaking. The sounds coming out of her mouth are perfectly on key, never missing a note as she belts out the song lyrics. She spins and dances around on the stage, her skirt flying up around her to show her black boyshort panties. I bite down on my bottom lip as I watch her shake her perfect ass for all to see, knowing it’s meant only for me.
They sing a total of five songs before making their way off the stage and introducing the headlining band, but I close my computer, because I have no desire to watch the other band. I only wanted to see my girl. Feeling weak, I grab my phone and type out a quick message.
Watched the live stream. You were beautiful. Wish I were pulling off those black panties with my teeth right now.
I drop the phone onto the bed and pick up the remote to fill the room with some kind of noise. Forty-five minutes go by before my phone chimes beside me. I grab it as quickly as I can, like a teenage girl waiting for her prom date to call.
I wish you were too. Miss you.
Her words make my heart flutter in my chest. She’s only been gone a couple of days, and I already miss her like mad. I wonder how I’ll survive this whole tour—or any tour for that matter.
A couple minutes later, my phone rings and her name is on the screen. I grab it quickly and answer it.
“Hey.”
“Hey, I missed your voice,” she says softly into the phone. I can hear a lot of background racket, but it’s muffled like she’s holed up in a closed-off room.
“I’ve missed your voice too.”
There’s a long pause so I decide to fill it with meaningless chitchat instead of saying the words that are begging to be released. “So . . . green, huh?”
She giggles. “Yeah, I had too much free time on my hands. What do you think?”
“I like it. Although next time I think you should try red.”
“Red?”
“I’ve always had a thing for redheads,” I confess.
She laughs. “Okay, red it is. So what are you doing right now?”
“I’m in the countryside for a week. Just helping Calvin get some things hammered out in the new office. So right now, I’m sitting in our hotel room all alone.”
“I’m alone too. The bus has one private bedroom and one area with four bunks. The guys gave me the room, so I’m just lying in bed.”
“Mmm, what are you wearing?” I ask as a joke.
“A black tank top and those black panties you seem to be so fond of,” she says, letting a teasing giggle slip out.
“When I saw those, I couldn’t think of anything but biting into your round ass like it was an apple.” I feel myself growing hard and I let my hand slide under the blanket and wrap around my shaft.
She must be picturing the same thing I am, because she lets out a little puff of air that sounds like a whimper. “I wish you were here.”
“Me too.” My hand starts moving up and down while I picture myself crawling into that bed with her and tearing off those black panties. She gasps and I know she playing with something that’s mine. “Are you touching yourself right now?”
“Mm-hmm. Are you?”
“Absolutely. You think I could hold back after seeing your sexy ass on stage and hearing your voice? Tell me what you’re doing.”
“I’m sliding my hand down my stomach and into my panties. I’m so wet.” Her words are hushed and erotic. Hearing how wet she is only makes me harder, especially when I remember her smell, her taste.
“I’m massaging my clit, pretending it’s your mouth on me.”
“Mmm, you taste so good,” I say, closing my eyes as I picture my face between her legs as my hand begins to move faster.
“I need you, Daniel,” she breathes out.
“I’m right there with you, baby. Picture me sliding into you, filling you up completely. You’re so tight and hot . . .”
“You’re so big, but God, you feel so good.”
“So do you, baby. Imagine me picking up speed and thrusting into you as hard as I can. You’re sliding up the bed. All we can hear is the bed squeaking under our weight, and the headboard hitting the wall every time I push into you.”
Her breathing gets louder and faster. I can tell she’s only moments away from coming undone. My hand works faster, catching up to her.
“I’m going to come, Daniel.”
“Me too, baby. Come with me.” My hand is now erratic as it pumps, pushing me over the edge. Her soft moans and whimpers only add to my pleasure and she lets out a squeal as her release hits her full force. My own release bubbles over the surface, causing me to spill every last drop.
I let out a low moan as my body starts calming back down. My breathing is rushed and labored, matching her own.
“God, I needed that,” she pants out.
I let out a chuckle. “Already having withdrawals?” I tease.
“You’re a hard one to quit.”
“Then don’t quit,” I state. “I’ve decided. I’m not quitting. I can’t.”
I can practically hear her smile. “You’re waiting for me?”
“I’ll wait for you, I’ll walk across this country for you, I’ll do anything for you, Luna.” I want to profess my undying love for her, but now’s not the time.
“I’ll wait for you too,” she agrees.
“Good, then it’s decided. We’re official.”
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow and every day after that.”
“Bye, Luna.”
“Bye, Daniel,” she says, just before the phone disconnects.
I let the phone fall from my ear where my shoulder has been holding it, and go to clean up. For the first time since she left, I feel good, happy—excited even. We’re not over and never will be. This is only the beginning of our story.
Fifteen
Luna
Hearing Daniel say he wants to wait for me is the highlight of my week, but it also leaves me feeling a little guilty. I’m out here living a life most people envy, and he’s there, left waiting for my return. I’m happy to know that we’re together and not over, but the fact that he’s missing out on life doesn’t sit well with me—not while I’m out here living my dream.
I fall into a deep sleep but wake a few hours later, needing a snack and something to drink. This tour is taking a toll on my body. Sleep doesn’t come easy, there’s hardly any time to eat and it’s never a proper meal anyway, and I just end up feeling exhausted all the time. I get up and move through the bunk cabin into the living quarters. Van is still up, sitting at the table with his phone in his hand.
“Hey, what are you doing up?” he asks, looking over his shoulder at me.
“I needed a drink and a snack.” I grab a bottle of water out of the fridge and a box of Wheat Thins to
snack on, taking both items back to the table to sit across from him. “I guess I’m feeling a little guilty.”
“Guilty about what?”
“I talked to Daniel tonight. He said he’s waiting for me.”
“Well, that’s great, right?”
I shrug. “It is, but it just means that while I’m here, living the life I’ve always dreamed of, he’s there, missing out on his fullest life because of me.”
“You can’t control everything, Luna. It’s his life and his decision.”
“I know,” I admit. “And even though I don’t want things to end with Daniel, I just have this gut feeling that I need to let him go. My life isn’t fair to him. He deserves someone who can be with him every single day—who can help him fight against outside forces and all that.”
“So let this short tour be a test. Leave things alone and see how you feel when you get back home. If at the end, you feel this long-distance thing didn’t work, call it off before we leave for our big tour. This could just be a little sample of what your relationship might look like.”
I nod. I guess that’s a good idea. “What are you doing up so late and why have you been on your phone so much?”
He rolls his eyes and shows me his phone. There’s a picture of a woman with long, blonde hair. She’s cute and sweet-looking—definitely not Van’s usual type.
“Who’s that?”
“Her name is Abby. She’s a girl I started seeing a couple months ago.”
My mouth drops open. “You mean you gave Daniel and me all that shit and you were doing the same thing?”
He nods. “I think I focused on you guys so I wouldn’t have to focus on my own shit.”
I nod in understanding. “So who is this girl? How’d you meet?”
“She’s the artist who did my last tattoo. She runs her own shop back in Chicago. We’ve spent most of the last month together.”
“This girl is a tattoo artist?” I ask, looking at her pink lips, long blonde curls, and perfect skin. She looks more like a model you’d see in an all-girl Catholic school brochure than someone who permanently brands people’s skin.
He nods. “Damn good too.”
“She looks so innocent,” I joke, but am also completely serious.
He snickers. “Yeah, that’s what drew me to her in the first place. She has that dirty librarian vibe. You know, strait-laced and sweet until the library closes. Then she strips down to this sexy dominatrix type.”
I laugh and shake my head. “There’s something wrong with you.”
“What? You can’t tell me it isn’t the same with Dan! He’s a lawyer who spends his days in a suit and tie for crying out loud.”
I laugh. “I guess you’re right. I never thought of it like that though. And my guy can be dirty, that’s for sure.” I can’t hold back the smile that thought just brought on.
He scoffs. “Gross.”
I hold up my middle finger before shoving a cracker in my mouth. “I guess we’re both screwed, huh?”
“Not both of us—all of us.”
“What does that mean?”
“Lane and Ridge are screwed too. Lane started dating this college girl and Ridge fell in love with a bartender. They’re been on their phones the whole time too.”
I laugh and shake my head. “Fate has damn good timing, you know that?” I joke.
He laughs and nods. “Yep, fate and karma are both bitches in my book.”
I shake my head as I stand to put away the crackers. “I’m going back to sleep. Talk to you in the morning.” I take my water and go back to my bedroom, ready to be alone as I try to get some sleep.
We spend a lot of time on the bus, traveling from place to place. Van and I work on writing new music and just practicing some of the new songs from the album. We spend a lot of time on our phones, keeping in touch with our friends and family, and checking social media to watch as our band’s pages slowly start to grow. Most of the time, we have a massive surge of followers after a show, and we’ve watched our first single climb the charts every day. It’s currently sitting in the number six spot. All and all, this tour has been good for the band, however, it’s nothing like what I thought it would be.
When I was back home and picturing myself on tour, I envisioned awesome shows, new adventures, getting time off the bus to just wander around whatever city we’re in, big parties, and lots of fun. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The shows are pretty awesome, but there’s no venturing out on our own. We’re on the bus, then we go to perform, and afterward, we’re right back on the bus to make it to the next gig. There are no adventures, no fun, no parties. But most of all, I miss Daniel.
We talk every night, and we text a lot throughout the day. It feels like nothing has changed between us, except for the fact that we can’t be together. We FaceTime as often as we can, but it’s not the same. It sucks not being able to reach out and touch the person you love. I can’t run my fingers through his hair or my hand across the thick stubble of his jaw, and I miss following the hard lines on his six-pack. I don’t get to feel his strong arms wrapped around me or breathe in his scent that gets left behind on my pillows. There’s so much more to a relationship than just talking and sex. I love the little things like turning around to catch the other person checking you out, seeing small smiles and grins when they think you’re not looking, and all those small touches, tickles, and kisses we too often take for granted.
Really, the only time I’m able to stop thinking about him is when I’m on stage—in front of thousands of people cheering us on. But that doesn’t last long enough. He’s on my mind constantly and that leaves me wondering how he’s really doing without me. Is he having to fight away thoughts of me constantly like I am of him? God, I hope not. Feeling this way only makes me want to release him more—let him move on with his life so he doesn’t spend it waiting. But that thought alone is enough to have acid bubbling up my throat and my heart quickening in panic.
We’ve officially made it to New York. It’s our last show before making our way back to the Midwest. We have a few shows along the way, but in one week, I’ll be able to hide away from the world in Daniel’s arms.
The more shows we do and the more popular we get, the more I’m seeing of us on YouTube and Instagram. People are making videos and taking pictures of not only me and the band, but of the places we used to work and the people we spend time with. I’ve seen so many short features on myself already. They show the music store and tell the story of how as a young girl, I frequently visited it with my father. They paint a picture of a girl who was lost in the world until she found that store, and to the reporters, it’s like a key to the world I’m living in now.
The old pictures that were snapped of Daniel and me are plastered up everywhere with titles like Who is this mystery man? Is Luna keeping secrets? Is the lead singer and guitarist of The Wonder Kings in a secret relationship? It drives me crazy. I signed up for this and I know it comes with a certain amount of exposure, but Daniel didn’t, and I wish they’d leave him alone.
He’s told me stories over the past couple weeks of being chased into buildings to avoid people taking his picture and asking questions about me. He’s even had to chase them out of his law office. It’s like people aren’t happy with the pieces of ourselves that we give. They always want more. I’ve apologized to Daniel many times, but he knows this isn’t my fault and there’s nothing I can do about it. It does leave me wondering if he’s starting to give us a second thought, like is Luna really worth losing my own privacy over? Hopefully, I’ll get the answer to that next week.
When our bus arrives at the theater, the parking lot is already packed full of cars. The bus has to drive through a screaming horde of fans dying to get an autograph, a picture, or just a look at us. At this point, they seem happy with anything.
I take a deep breath to prepare for the fans waiting outside the bus. I couldn’t be more thankful for the barricade keeping them back. When the bus stops, I get to my feet and m
ove toward the exit. The doors open and our ears are blasted with loud screams. It’s deafening.
I take a step off the bus and my smile spreads wide. As crazy as all of this is, it’s also exciting. I wave as I make my way to the venue doors, stopping every few feet to sign something or take a picture. The amount of black and green hair in the crowd makes me laugh. I pull out my own phone and take a video to send to Daniel.
“Say hi to Daniel!” I tell the crowd of girls who all have the same hair color as me. They scream it loud and add on some waves, jumps, and squeals. I end the video and wave to them. “Thanks for coming! See you in there!” I hurry into the building and send him the video.
I’m shown to my dressing room and my phone chimes. I look down at the message to see Whoa! That’s a lot of green hair!
I laugh. Want me to send a few of them home for you?
Hahahaha, no way. I don’t want a clone. I want the real thing. Counting the days.
Me too. Miss you.
I drop my phone onto the table and lie down on the couch. Van sticks his head through the open door. “Sound check in an hour.”
I wave, not bothering to reply. I take a little nap before sound check, then after we’re done, I get ready for the show. I take a shower, do my hair and makeup, and get dressed.
After what feels like forever, it’s time for the show to start. We go out on stage and the crowd comes alive. There’s screaming and jumping—including people throwing things on stage like stuffed animals, flowers, and I think even some panties. I hope those are meant for the guys. We play our single first, and the crowd goes wild. They all know the lyrics to the song and they sing it like they wrote it themselves. It really makes my heart warm to see the impression our little band has left on these people. We play the song that will be our next single, and while they don’t know this one yet, that doesn’t stop them from rocking out. The third song’s a bit slower and it’s more for the couples. Something comes over me and I step up to the mic.
Rocking His FAKE World: A Fake Boyfriend, Opposites Attract Romance (Love You Forever Book 3) Page 16