Founded on Goodbye: A Rockstar Romance

by Kat Singleton

  He wastes no time answering me. One second, I’m still living in my own fantasyland where Nash and I are just friends and my own personal feelings haven’t gotten involved. In this moment, I’m still able to pretend I’m not falling for Nash, ignoring the fact that one day I’ll have to break both our hearts by breaking his.

  I’m no longer toeing the line between my heart and my head. My heart has taken the lead and said, to hell with the wreckage guaranteed to happen.

  Because in the next moment, the lips that serenade countless fans every night are uttering the words that ignite fireworks in my stomach.

  “I’m going to kiss the hell out of you, Rose,” he tells me.

  And I let him.

  His lips, that sing the sweetest melodies, are on mine. And as our lips finally collide, the last thought in my mind before I lose myself in him is wondering how I’ve waited so long to feel his lips on mine.

  I don’t hesitate for a second longer. I’ve been wanting to kiss Nora’s pouty lips all damn day. Watching her stick that cotton candy in her mouth, her lips wrapping around her fingers, has been sending my head spinning. I can’t wait any longer. All the reasons I shouldn’t kiss her just disappear, and the only thing left on my mind is if I can taste that cotton candy on her lips.

  So I try. Our lips crash together then. It’s slow at first. A beat that builds and builds until we hit the crescendo. Then the beat drops and we’re all lips and tongues and not holding back. My forehead knocks against the ballcap on her head, blocking me from being as close to her as possible.

  I momentarily pull away from the sweet taste of her, twisting the hat until the brim is out of my way. She smiles, a blue tint to the lips that have probably left my balls the same color all day. Now that her hat’s been adjusted, I pull her in close again, my body folding into hers until I’m damn near lifting her tiny body off the ground to be as close to her as possible.

  My one hand stays on the small of her waist, a place my hand has been many nights on tour, but never like this. My other hand leaves her neck to brush her long hair off her shoulder. Now that I have free access to her pale skin, I lean in, anxious to memorize the taste of it.

  The feeling of my lips against her skin is something I want to write songs about. The lyrics fly around in my head as I kiss a trail from the shell of her ear all the way down to her collarbone. Her skin tastes salty from the day in the desert heat. I can feel the thrum of her pulse beneath my mouth. I nip at the soft skin at the base of her throat, reveling in the way her heartbeat creates its own rhythm against my lips.

  “Nash,” she says breathlessly. The cotton candy falls at our feet, long forgotten as Nora’s hands wrap around my neck. She applies pressure to the spot where my hair meets my neck, coaxing my head even further down. “Oh my god.” Her fingers tighten around my neck. Anxious to taste her once again, I make my way back to those cotton candy stained lips.

  Her mouth anxiously awaits mine, and as soon as my lips are in the vicinity of hers, she’s opening hers, letting me in instantly.

  Her fingers are hot against my neck as she plays with the stray strands of hair peeking out under my beanie. I’m semi-aware of the concert going on around us, the bass of the speakers bumping erratically like the beat of my heart.

  I don’t know if our mouths stay fused for one song or five. All I can say is, now that I’ve felt Nora’s mouth on mine, I can’t go back to what we were before. I won’t be able to look at her without wanting my lips on hers.

  I’ve kissed more women than I could ever begin to keep track of. And none of them kissed me like Nora is right now. And none of them were Nora. And I wish they all had been Nora.

  She’s standing here, pulling emotions from my cold black heart that I haven’t felt in years.

  Part of me loves it.

  Part of me hates it.

  As I pull away, resting my forehead against hers, I can’t help but wonder what we’ve started.

  I want her. I want her so fucking bad. But I’m very aware of the promise I made myself the last time I developed feelings for a woman. I vowed I would never let someone take an axe to my heart like Taylor did. I didn’t want to become obsessive again.

  Peering at Nora, I hope she’s different than Taylor. Part of me wonders if she is even capable of doing the awful things Taylor did to me. Looking at her now, I can’t see her doing any of the things that led to the demise of me and Taylor—the fallout leaving me with a broken, shattered heart.

  Nora’s chest rises and falls quickly as she greedily takes in air. My own body does the same, my eyes examining her. I want to keep her lips on mine. Anger bubbles inside me at the thought of someone else’s lips on her. Jealousy is not a feeling I’ve been familiar with lately. I lean down, giving her one more peck on the lips before throwing my arm over her shoulder and tucking her into my side.

  Nora’s tiny hand lands on my stomach, her head coming to rest against my chest. The two of us stare at the performers on stage, getting lost in the talent of the band before us. For a long period of time, we don’t speak. I love that she looks just as lost in the music as I am, not trying to fill the space between us with idle conversation.

  Tonight, I won’t overthink whatever the hell we’re doing. I’m having a good time without the use of substances for the first time in—well, I don’t know how long. I want to keep her close to me without thinking of what happens next.

  If I could pause time and live in this moment where neither of us are asking for more, I would.

  And maybe I can.

  It’s later in the evening when the last band is finishing up their encore on stage. My arms are wrapped around Nora, her arms the same around me. Her face is pressed against my chest, her breath hot against the thin fabric. We’ve been swaying with the wind as the band performed their last few songs. My chin is perched on her ballcap.

  “Nash?” Nora says, her doe eyes looking up at me. When I look, I swear I see something like worry in them.

  “Hm?” I ask, my arms tightening slightly around her. The people around us start to make their way away from the stage, the stage now filling with crew members to pack up the band’s equipment.

  Nora busies her fingers, toying with the waistband of my jeans. “Can you promise me something?” she asks.

  Anything. Nothing. Everything, I tell myself. Only time will tell.

  “What?” I answer, my heartbeat picking up with fear of what she’ll ask of me.

  Ask for anything but my heart, I want to tell her, my heart far too jaded to fit in her hands.

  “Promise me you’ll always remember this moment and how you felt when you think of me.” Her words are slow, and well thought out.

  My eyebrows pull together, wondering where that comment even came from. It seems random, but I don’t question her. The look on her face makes me think twice of saying something sarcastic.

  “There’s so many moments I could remember you by, Rose,” I finally answer. Which is true.

  There’s the moment that she first got that nickname from me, the color of her cheeks in that small studio office a shade that reminded me of a rose.

  Or the first rehearsal we had for the tour, the way her breaths would turn shaky as my hands roamed across her body.

  The time I took her to an empty arena, the two of us sharing random confessions, the night becoming one of my best nights in a while.

  I can’t wipe the memory of the first time we performed together in front of tons of people. Or the smile on her face as the mass of screaming fans in the audience shouted her name.

  And then tonight—a night I’ll never forget. I’m not sure I’ll ever look at cotton candy again without my dick stirring, the memory of her cotton candy lips on mine now branded on my brain.

  “But no matter what happens,” she begins, her hands twisting around my shirt, “I want you to remember me this way. I want to remember us this way, the way we are tonight.”

  “What do you think will happen?” I glance down at
her curiously.

  By now, the crowd has thinned out substantially. Looking over her shoulder, I can see the vendors packing up their booths and people making their way back to the parking lot. I try to avoid eye contact with both Sebastian and Matt, not wanting to explain myself about what transpired tonight.

  “You’re you,” she finally answers, slightly pulling away as she talks. “Something is bound to happen,” she says, a faraway look in her eyes.

  “You can’t predict the future,” I remind her, wondering why I even want to argue the subject. Letting it go, I give her what she wants.

  I wrap her hand in mine and give her a quick kiss on the top of her head before pulling her toward the parking lot. We’re having idle chatter when the first camera flashes.

  My stomach drops, the blinding flashes all too familiar to me.

  “Nash! Nora! Are the two of you dating?”

  Pulling Nora to my chest, I try to shield her from the storm of people with cameras racing our way. I yank the ballcap off her head, quickly positioning it so the brim covers her face as much as possible.

  “Nora! What is it like being with Nash?”

  “Nash, look this way.”

  “Is this the first date?”

  “Nash! Nash! Over here.”

  “Nora, can you tell us more about your relationship with Nash?”

  Nora turns her head, looking toward the throng of paparazzi following our every move.

  “Don’t answer them,” I demand, looking over my shoulder to find Matt herding a person away from us. Sebastian flanks Nora’s side, making sure no one can get close to her.

  “Nora, honey, care to answer some of my questions?”

  A man with a T-shirt two sizes too small for him tries to inch his way toward Nora.

  Sebastian stops the dude in his tracks instantly, but it isn’t good enough for me. I’ve made it a point not to talk with paparazzi for years, let alone look directly at them. But this guy asking Nora intrusive questions and trying to get close to her doesn’t sit well with me.

  “Back the hell off,” I warn him, staring the guy dead in the eye.

  I instantly regret lashing out, because his eyes light up like a fucking Christmas tree. “Territorial, I see,” he shouts, Sebastian’s large body now blocking him from view.

  It takes us five times as long to get to our car as it should, navigating the thirty-or-so cameras flashing in our eyes. The whole time, the paparazzi yell questions at the two of us. My blood begins to boil, pissed that Nora is having to learn about the paps the hard way. Some of the questions they ask her make me want to turn around and punch them square in the nose.

  They’ve pissed me off numerous times throughout the years, asking things they’ve had no business asking me. But now that they’re aiming that shit toward her, it’s not okay with me.

  I should’ve paid more attention to our surroundings, making sure we weren’t put in this situation in the first place. I was too lost in spending time with her to even worry about the paparazzi. I let my guard down, and I’m pissed at myself for it.

  Matt has the door open for us in no time. I don’t hesitate to gently push Nora into the backseat. I quickly follow behind her, sliding into the seat while still trying to shield her from the cameras now pressing against the car windows. The door slams behind us, and Matt and Sebastian get in the car only moments later. Matt has the car started with his next breath, then he quickly revs the engine and drives us away from the flashing lights.

  It takes longer than desired to get out of the parking lot, the paparazzi blocking the car from the dirt road that’ll lead us out. Once we’ve made it to the road, Matt weaves in and out of side streets and various highways, finding the quickest path back to the stadium.

  No one in the car speaks the whole ride home. I’m still pissed at myself for not being more observant of my surroundings, wondering how or when we were even recognized. Matt is silent in the front, probably biting his tongue to so he can’t say he told me so.

  Nora must be thinking the same thing I am, because as the car slows down and stops, she looks at me. “There was a girl at the alcohol booth when we first got there. I noticed her looking at us weird, but I didn’t think she recognized you. Do you think she told someone? I should’ve—”

  I stop her from continuing by squeezing her thigh, her skin butter soft against my fingertips. “There’s no use in playing what-ifs. Those fuckers can find me anywhere.”

  Matt laughs from the front seat, turning the keys to stop the engine. I’m already fully aware that I will get a lecture from my whole team as soon as I’m back on my bus. I hate that they’re probably right. Today was a bad idea. But damn was it a perfect day—until it wasn’t.

  Sebastian and Matt both exit the car, most likely making their way to debrief the rest of the team on the shitshow that just happened. I’m sure pictures of me and Nora are already plastered all over the gossip sites.

  “Well…” Nora breathes out, her hand landing on mine.

  “That was a clusterfuck,” I respond, finishing her thought.

  She laughs, her head falling back against the headrest. “Definitely a clusterfuck. I can’t believe that’s what you deal with every time you go somewhere.”

  I angle my body toward her, brushing my thumb against the soft skin of her wrist. “You get used to it.”

  Her free hand finds my cheek, and even in the darkness of the car, I can see her eyes studying my face. “No, you don’t,” she finally answers, indirectly calling me out on my bullshit.

  Leaning into her hand, I utter words that I hope don’t scare her away. “They’ll follow you now. They’re vultures, and you’re their newest fascination. You’ll have to be careful wherever you go. If they think there’s the smallest chance we might be dating, they’ll go nuts. It’s odd, why people have such a sick fascination with who I spend my time with.”

  “But we aren’t dating,” she says, her voice low but direct.

  Her words catch me off guard. Not because I necessarily think we’re dating either, but because I’ve lived in the reality where the women I spend time with would do anything to be dating me. Hell, dating me is a one-way ticket to fame.

  I’ve already been used once by Taylor, and I’m sure countless other women but that was mutual. Now I’m bitter and expect to be used. It’s why I let women use me. They use me for a photo op as we leave whatever club I got drunk at that night, I use them for a release. It’s a symbiotic relationship that’s been at work since the messy breakup with my ex.

  “I don’t know what we’re doing,” I answer her truthfully. I don’t do feelings. I’ve sworn them off, but here I am, definitely fucking feeling.

  A heart as broken and jaded as mine has no business feeling again.

  Nora said she’d make me feel again, would get me to fall back in love with what I do. What I didn’t expect was to fall for her, too.

  “We’re having fun. But you’re you and I’m me and I don’t know how an us could possibly work. We’re just having fun, right?” she says.

  “Fun,” I repeat, missing the warmth as soon as she pulls her hand from my face.

  Her smile is relieved when she looks up at me. Leaning in quickly, she plants a kiss against my lips. Not wanting to miss an opportunity for a different kind of relief, I deepen the kiss. Circling my hand around her waist, I pull her across the seat until she’s pressed up against me.

  We make out in the backseat of a car like a pair of teenagers at a drive-in movie, and it feels fucking great. I could get addicted to the taste of her, obsessed with the moans that fall from her mouth as my hand slips under her skirt.

  I’m getting dangerously close to the warmth between her legs when her hand finds my chest, gently pushing me away. “I think we’ve had enough fun for one night.”

  I lean back and laugh, deciding right then that I want to have all the fun with her.

  Not waiting for an answer, she grabs her purse and opens the car door. She steps out of the
car, shutting the door without looking back at me. Before I follow her lead, I adjust myself in my pants, the hardness pretty obvious in my jeans.

  The two of us fall in step together as we make our way toward her bus. The conversation is easy, the stress of the paps finding us feeling like a distant memory.

  We stop in front of her bus, and she rests her shoulder against it.

  “I had fun tonight, Nash,” Nora says, a smile on her face.

  “I did too,” I tell her truthfully. Grabbing her by her waist, I pull her in for a hug. “Was it the best first date you’ve ever had?” I tease, already pissed off if she gives me any other answer but yes.

  She shakes her head against my chest and laughs. “It was an amazing first date.”

  “And you almost said no,” I remind her, my hands finding both sides of her face.

  I lean down, stealing the words from her mouth with my tongue. She doesn’t object, her lips moving effortlessly against mine.

  “What a mistake that would’ve been,” she jokes once we finally break apart.

  It takes five more minutes for us to finally say goodbye, the both of us getting distracted by each other’s mouth to properly say goodbye.

  Finally, Ziggy opens the door, the smile on his face almost splitting his face in half. “Nash, I’m going to need to interrogate our sweet Nora now. Goodbye!” He grabs her by the arm, almost tripping her in the process as he tugs her up the few steps.

  “Goodbye, Nash,” Nora says sweetly, steadying herself by grabbing the railing.

  “Goodnight, Rose,” I respond, backing away while getting one last look at her for the night.

  I’m almost to my own tour bus, lost in thought about Nora, when it hits me.

  I had fun with her tonight—pure, sober fun. It’s not something I’m used to, and the realization is jarring. My time with her was fun, carefree, until the paps showed up at least.

  I felt like myself again, whoever the hell I am underneath all the pressure and expectations of whatever everyone else wants me to be. It’s a great feeling to feel this way again, clear headed and excited. It’s as terrifying as it is exciting.