Hooked

by Nicole Howard

  “Kids are kind of a make it or break it clause.” Sarah sobbed.

  “Oh, fuck.” Justin cursed under his breath, his arms wrapped around me, muffling his words in my hair.

  “No, they aren’t. Not for us. If you don’t want kids, then we won’t have kids.” If using my hands to cover my ears was even possible, in the tiny closet without making a racket and giving away our hiding spot, I would have. Their words weren’t meant to be heard. Especially not by Justin and me, two people who knew nothing of emotional connections and everything about immediate gratification.

  “Ian, if you want children, you should have children. And if I don’t want children, then I shouldn’t feel obligated to have them to make you happy.”

  “Shit, this is painful.” Justin whispered in my ear.

  “I want us more. Whatever happens down the road, I will be fine as long as we’re in it together. I mean it, baby, this isn’t coming between us, okay? I love you, Sarah.”

  “I love you too.”

  Justin and I stayed still in the cramped closet, despite the hangers digging into the back of my neck and the fact that my legs ached. We waited for what seemed like forever until we heard Ian and Sarah leave the room. When I made a move to leave, Justin stopped me.

  “Let’s give it a few more minutes. Make sure they are upstairs and distracted before we make our way up? I don’t want them to realize that we just overheard everything.”

  “But my legs are killing me.”

  “Let’s see what I can do about that.” Justin pushed the hangers away before moving his hands down my body, resting them just below my ass cheeks. He lifted me up, forcing my legs around his hips. “I’ll have you know, I’m a pretty good distraction.” His lips pressed against mine, asking for me to let me in and he proceeded to kiss me breathless. By the time we left the closet there was no doubt the conversation was behind Sarah and Ian and that Justin and I were a second thought.

  The rest of the day proceeded as planned and as far as we could tell, Sarah and Ian were unaware of our spy session. Tim and Ally revealed the gender of baby number two when we all launched water balloons filled with paint at a large, blank canvas. The bright pink paint was perfect proof that Tim would be outnumbered in a house filled with girls. Hours were spent munching on catered food and sipping on glasses of champagne, but the events proved to be too much for my waddling best friend, who was exhausted before the sun even set.

  Thank God Sarah and Ian suggested having a couple of drinks in the basement to keep our night going after the party. I was sleeping upstairs in the guest room and with Tim and Ally calling it a night, I would be left to my own devices, bored out of mind up there with no excuse to spend time with Justin. At least by staying up, if we managed to outlast Sarah and Ian, we stood a chance at sneaking in one last romp before we went back to our normal lives.

  I lifted a blender from the kitchen, while Justin gathered liquor, ice, and mix. He took on the role of the bartender mixing random concoctions. I had finished filling four glasses with Justin’s creation, when Sarah announced she’d found ‘Never Have I Ever’ in the pile of games.

  “You guys up for that?” Sarah asked, holding the box.

  “Oh my god, I am!” I exclaimed. This should make for an interesting evening.

  After two full rounds of mundane questions, I was starting to think Tim and Ally had bought a botched version of the game. A PG version if that was even possible. Where were the embarrassing and kinky questions? The game was a prime way to dig into Justin’s history without having to ask, and it was letting me down. Big time.

  I pulled my third card, disappointed once again with the words in front of me. “Never have I ever gotten a piercing other than my ear.” How boring! I took a sip from my glass, as did Sarah, as expected. What girl hadn’t pierced their naval during their teen years? I tucked the card back into the box.

  “Oh my God. Where?” Sarah exclaimed. I looked up, surprised by her interest until I realized Justin had taken a sip.

  “Well, if you want to find out…” Justin winked at Sarah, leaving me confused. I had seen Justin naked at least a dozen times and never once had I noticed a piercing. I raised my eyebrows at him, challenging him. “It was my tongue and only for about two weeks in High School.”

  Sarah drew the next card. “Never have I ever gotten so mad that I threw something through a wall.” The boys both took large gulps.

  “Okay, my turn.” Justin grabbed three cards, reading through them before deciding on one.

  “That’s not how it works.” I argued.

  “Ya, but I don’t want to end up with a lame one.” Justin slapped two of the cards face down on the coffee table. “Never have I ever looked through my boyfriend/girlfriend’s phone without their knowledge.”

  No one made a move to lift their glass, so I did. Justin had cheated, so what was the harm? Plus, I had barely drunk any of my drink and it was delicious.

  “Seriously, Mags? Not one to trust?” Justin questioned.

  “Hell no.” My grin was unnaturally evil. Hey, if I ever had a boyfriend, I could guarantee I’d be guilty of looking at his phone.

  The game ended abruptly with the next question. Unfortunately, the card mentioned something about pregnancy. Ian should have chucked that one out and picked another card after their conversation earlier. I’m guessing he didn’t think that one through. Regardless, our impromptu games night was over.

  “You know, I think I’m ready for bed.” Sarah faked a yawn.

  “Um, ya, okay.” Her acting skills were lacking. I wanted to call her out, but neither of them knew we knew about their private conversation and I wasn’t bursting open that egg of knowledge. “Maybe Justin and I will stay up for a bit and finish off the pitcher.” The pitcher was empty, but they didn’t seem to notice.

  “Okay, sounds good.” Ian stood up and reached for Sarah. “Good night guys.”

  “Night.” Justin called after them. He waited until the bedroom door shut before speaking. “I say we keep playing this.” Justin pulled out a handful of cards. “But we’re only reading the interesting ones.”

  “I’m game. Want me to make more drinks?” I questioned, finishing off my glass.

  “Absofuckinglutely.”

  I blended another random mixture and carried the pitcher back to the table while Justin sorted through the cards, eliminating the ones he deemed ‘boring’ and shuffling the remaining deck for us to choose from.

  “I’ll go first.” I stated, reaching into the pile and pulling out a card. “Never have I ever sucked my partner’s toes. What the fuck, Justin?” I snorted. He moved to lift his glass my mouth dropped open.

  “I’m just fucking with you. That’s disgusting.” He laughed and pulled his card. “Never have I ever had to fake it.” I lifted my glass and took a drink, and then a second for good measure. “You’ve faked it?” He questioned.

  “Not since College. But there were a couple of times when I did.”

  “Never, ever fake it with me.” He demanded.

  “Like you wouldn’t know.”

  “True.” He winked. “You’re turn.”

  “Never have I ever had a threesome.” My glass remained firmly on the table, while Justin took a healthy gulp. “Justin!”

  “I’ve tried it. A couple of times. Honestly, not my thing.” He shrugged.

  “I’m not surprised.” Even though I kind of was. It made sense, given his lifestyle and how much he liked to play the field, but I just pictured him a one girl at a time kind of player.

  “Okay, my turn.” Justin plucked out a card. We played until all the cards in Justin’s selected pile were read and the pitcher was empty.

  “I’m going to take this upstairs.” I pointed to the pitcher on the table.

  “Not yet.” Justin responded, standing long enough to undo his shorts and spring free his erection. Bending at the waist, he fished a condom out of the pocket of his shorts before kicking them off.

  “Presumptuou
s.” I raised my eyebrows. Justin didn’t respond, just rolled the condom over himself and waited for me to get with the program. Sighing in surrender, I pushed down my tights, kicking them off before straddling Justin’s lap. “Make it quick. I’m tired.”

  “I’ll make it quick if you keep it quiet.” Justin countered, entering me with one thrust of his hips. I gasped at the sudden fullness as he stopped allowing my body to acclimate. I grasped at the couch and found a rhythm, taking control, knowing it wouldn’t last long. As expected, Justin tightened his grip on my hips and took control of the pace, directing my body over his. Unable to trust my ability to remain quiet, I bit his shoulder, which drove him to take control. Our bodies were making so much noise, my moans weren’t the sounds we needed to worry about.

  “Justin.” I groaned into his ear, intending for it to be a warning but knowing it came off as more of a wanting.

  “Almost there, Mags.”

  “God.” I moaned, falling apart only seconds before Justin. My legs burned from the friction with the couch. I’d definitely have rug burns on my legs for the next couple of days, but it would be worth the sound sleep I was bound to have once I crawled my way up the stairs. Justin held me close for a few minutes, before coming to his senses and lifting me off.

  “I’m going to bed.” I announced, finding my pants and sliding them back on.

  “Me too.” Justin removed the condom and tied the end. “After I figure out how to get rid of this.”

  “You have fun with that.” I smirked. “Night.”

  Justin stood and took a step toward me, leaning down to press his lips to mine. “Night Mags.”

  Chapter 6

  Reeling

  Justin

  Building Hazed took years of blood, sweat, tears, and surviving off pocket change. We had our fair share of horror stories, being booed off stages and rejected by labels left, right, and center. With those years of growing pains came a bond stronger than blood, or at the very least a bond that transcends relationships with women. Turns out, that wasn’t the case. Have you ever had everything you’ve put your heart and soul into fall apart? Do you know how frustrating it is to watch your dreams start to slip from your grasp and be powerless to stop it? I wish I didn’t.

  I might be exaggerating, but if I am, it’s only slightly. Sure, we’re still working. Music is being written, the newest album is complete, and the release date has been announced. On the outside, things are business as usual. Inside, cracks are forming. The tracks on the latest album are a weird combination, a mixture of Ian’s new style and Tim’s softer lyrics. It’s not Hazed. Just a half-assed attempt at blending being musicians and playing house. It’s not working. The tour dates are limited, covering just enough of the North American map to convince our fans we’re still relevant and appease the label.

  I’m not happy. When we chose this life, a career as musicians, it was for the long haul. This wasn’t the life I had signed up for and it pissed me off that my life was being dictated by Tim and Ian’s choices. My future was dependent on them. Leaving Hazed wasn’t an option. Not one I wanted to explore anyway. Although the guys might be leaving me in the dust, I wouldn’t turn my back on them. It was up to me to find a way to pull us out of this rut.

  “You ready, J?” Ian asked, opening the door of the dressing room. The sound of the crowd roared through the building, bringing me back to the present.

  “I’m good to go. The real question is, where the hell is Tim?” My question was rhetorical. Tim was next door with Ally, doing God knows what. It’s not like he was getting any before the concert, the girl was only weeks away from popping out their second daughter.

  “It’s Ally’s last concert before the baby comes. Give him a break.”

  Another break? Didn’t he realize how many ‘breaks’ they’d be given? Every time their life outside of Hazed took priority, it widened the cracks and someday, the foundation wouldn’t hold up and I would be the one to pay the price.

  “What happened to the days when we got ready for a concert together? When it was just the three of us, focused and ready to go. I fucking miss those days.” It took every ounce of self-control to stop myself before I flew off the handle. There were too many things bouncing around in my head, too much anger to unleash without doing damage.

  “Hey, man. I get where you’re coming from. I really do, but this is her last concert for a while. After tonight it’ll just be the three of us.” Ian countered. “It’s not like Sarah ever shows up, so it’ll just be us.” His expression faltered. Ian might not complain about his girlfriend’s disinterest in watching us, but based on his reaction, it obviously bothered him.

  “You and Sarah okay?” Not that I cared about their relationship, but I did care about Ian. The guy had been through the wringer, and the last thing he needed was another woman ripping his heart from his chest.

  “Yep. We’re good.”

  “That sounds convincing.”

  “We’re working through some things. But we’re good.” Ian still hadn’t sold me, but I wasn’t going to pry further. It’s not like I’m the one to turn to for relationship advice.

  The door of the other dressing room opened, and Ally waddled out, followed closely by Maggie and Tim.

  “Ready?” Tim asked, watching the girls walk toward the stage. Ally would be watching from a seat in the wings, guarded by security. Tim wasn’t taking any chances when it came to the safety of Ally or their unborn child. The only silver lining to this arrangement was Maggie and the fact that she would be within my sightline for a couple of hours. Focus on the positive, or some shit like that. Right?

  “Let’s go!” I responded, leading the way to the stage, adrenaline pumping through my veins.

  ***

  “Mags?” I questioned, walking into the hotel room. At least it better be Maggie, because otherwise, our security sucked ass. One person, and one person only, had the clearance to enter my room. Having Maggie in the clear with security allowed us to hook-up while I was on the road without anyone discovering us.

  The guys usually left me alone after performances, both locked away. Ian spewing sweet nothings to Sarah on the phone and Tim holed away with Ally. Regardless, the guys assumed that I spent my nights with fangirls or groupies and kept their distance, leaving Maggie and me to screw like rabbits until the sun rose. The arrangement was convenient and maybe a little on the predictable side, but whatever. Nothing was predictable when you were sneaking around.

  “Did you eat all of the blue ones?” Maggie demanded, holding up a half-eaten purple bag of Skittles.

  “Does a bear shit in the woods?”

  “Those are my favorite, asshole.” She pouted, dumping the remaining candy on the nearest table.

  “I don’t buy them for you.” I shrugged, watching her poke through the colors, plucking out the green ones and tossing a few in her mouth.

  “To think I was going to blow you tonight, too.” She garbled while chewing the mouthful of candy.

  “You still will, princess.” Her eyes tightened as she glared, but her threat was empty, and she knew it.

  Maggie got off on it as much as I did. Depriving me only meant depriving herself and Maggie wasn’t about just my pleasure.

  “Don’t call me princess.”

  “Don’t call me God.” I rebutted, moving toward the table to grab a handful of mixed colors.

  “I don’t.”

  “You will.”

  “Cocky much?”

  “Always.” I threw the handful of candy into my mouth, chewed and swallowed, before moving in on Maggie. “And it must be good because you keep coming back for more.”

  “So good.” She laughed. “Best four inches in the country.”

  “I’ll show you four inches.” I picked Maggie up with ease, throwing her over my shoulder, slapping her ass on the way to the bed. She bounced on the bed as I tossed her down. “Only want four inches tonight, Mags?” On my knees, I straddled her legs, unfastening my belt and then the butto
n of my ripped jeans.

  “Fuck no. I want it all.” She propped herself up on her elbows, watching me push down my jeans and boxers, releasing my dick.

  “Oh, but you like to joke about it so much. Maybe you only want…”

  “Enough talking Casanova.” Maggie bent one of her legs and used her foot to push against my jeans, forcing me off balance. I lowered myself, stretching my legs, allowing her to push my pants to my ankles, before shifting to remove them the rest of the way. While I finished removing them, Maggie had wiggled herself out of her shorts. My favorite thing about Maggie, there was no messing around. No need to get her in the mood. She was always in the mood.

  ***

  I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, I love performing. I live, eat, and breathe for it. It’s the only authentic part of my life. The caveat, I only love performing live, for an audience. Not this whole fake-ass music video shit we are subjected to every couple of months. Our manager waits until the last minute to add the filming dates to my schedule, because every time it pops up, I fight it tooth and nail. They could handle it without me. Throw in a couple of still shots and who would even know the difference. Any guy with long, brown hair could sit in and pretend to play the drums. Who watched music videos anymore anyway? But no, a million and four takes of the same five seconds will be my life for the next six days. Contractual obligation, or some legal babble like that. So, there I sit, behind a foreign drum kit, trying to act like I’m into the whole thing, while half-naked girls dance around the room.

  That would be the only positive about the hell hole of a production studio. The director had hired dozens of dancers and while I wasn’t going to pull a Tim and fall head over heels in love with one, spending the night inside of one of these flexible beauties might not be so bad. It had been far too long since I had gotten laid anyway.

  Between takes I surveyed the girls, analyzing their appearance, their flexibility, their interactions on the set. I was looking for one who could not only handle a one-night stand but could do so without expectations. Focused on a brunette, with short, spikey hair, a lip piercing, and a full sleeve tattoo, I was anxious for us to finish for the day so I could make my move. A few directors were known to warn the girls to keep their distance from us but that never stopped them. Not if they were interested, and my money was on the fact, that warning or not, sex would be happening. Four and half hours later, I had evidence to prove I wasn’t wrong.