It’s all been planned. And here he is, thinking our love story happened on its own.
“You didn’t think we’d end up cuddling in a cabin in the mountains? Damn, that’s the first thing I envisioned when we met,” I joke.
He shakes his head, pulling me against his body in one fell swoop. “You’re a smartass.”
“Just telling the truth.” I try and turn to face him, but he locks me against him.
“Yeah, I don’t fucking cuddle.” He rests his jaw on my shoulder, adjusting my body so my back presses against his chest.
“What would you call this?” I question, interlocking my fingers with his.
His lips gently press against the base of my neck. The feeling of his fingers gently pushing my hair to the side has my arms breaking out in goosebumps. “Fuck.” He laughs. “This is cuddling. Landon and Poe were right, I’m a simp. I didn’t used to cuddle—thought it was utter bullshit and unnecessary—but I could get used to this.”
“Me too.” Looking over my shoulder, I find his eyes. The reflecting moonlight makes his eyes appear darker than they are in the daylight.
“Stay with me,” he whispers, his hand stroking my hairline. “Stay with me when I piss you off. Stay with me when this gets hard. Stay with me through it all, Nora. Please.”
His grip on me loosens, allowing me to turn and bury my face in his chest. It’s the only way I’m able to hide the tears welling in my eyes. Each one of his words felt like a punch to the gut.
It’s sometime early in the morning.
Nash is finally asleep after we spent countless hours exploring each other, and I’m standing in the large bathroom, staring back at my reflection.
It’s hard to look at myself. His earlier plea is running through my mind on rewind. I know it was hard for him to ask for me to stay, to be vulnerable like that. That knowledge makes this situation so much worse. He wants me to stay, and I want to stay, but I know after I confess all our ugly truths, he will want me as far away from him as possible. And I can’t even blame him.
I hate myself for what this is going to do to him.
I wanted to be the one to save him. The irony isn’t lost on me. Because the truth is, I was sent to ruin him.
When I was eighteen, something happened that made it hard for me to look at myself in the mirror. So I feel that pain. I’ve buried that pain, that loathing, deep down inside of me, trying to push past the experience.
My therapist told me I was also a victim for what happened that night, but I didn’t believe her for a long time. What happened to my sister…it felt like it was my fault, and it took me a long time to even look at myself in a mirror. I’d finally gotten to a spot where I could look at myself again when this opportunity was dropped in my lap. But here I am for the second time, hating what I see staring back at me.
Looking away from my reflection, I glance down and see Nash’s song journal sitting on the counter. I stare at it for a while, my eyes boring a hole into the rich leather cover. I know it’s a huge invasion of privacy to open it, to look deep into the inner workings of Nash’s mind, but I can’t help it. Taking a seat in the chair perched in front of the vanity, I open the journal.
Not wanting to wake Nash, I use the early light to help read the lyrics he’s poured onto every page. Tears spill from my eyes, and I have to be careful to make sure they don’t fall onto the pages. With every lyric, poem, note he’s jotted down, I feel more and more guilty. Reading through these pages is like experiencing our love story all over again, from Nash’s point of view, start to…near finish.
It’s the most achingly beautiful thing.
I don’t know how long I sit in the dark, committing every single stroke of his pen to memory. When our love story comes to an end, ending in guaranteed heartbreak, I want to remember these words.
Once I reach the end of the journal, I get an idea. I know when I come clean to Nash, there’s a good chance I won’t get to explain myself, to give him a good apology. He’ll probably want nothing to do with me or my excuses, and I’ll respect that.
But I need him to know how sorry I am, so I write it down, pouring my heart out just like he’s done in his own words.
Nash,
If you’re reading this, there’s a good chance our story has come to its impending end. I wish I had a good explanation of why I did what I did, but in reality, I don’t. There will never be words that can justify why I agreed to hurt you. I couldn’t let us end without telling you my story.
This is the last time I’ll be selfish when it comes to you. I write these words knowing it’ll probably be easier for you to not know these things, but I can’t help it. You must know how deeply I’ve fallen in love with you. I know I told you lies, deceived you, but I also fell for you. You’re an amazing person, Nash. You didn’t deserve what we did to you.
When I first got the offer, I debated on taking it. It felt like a perfect opportunity for me to chase my dreams. When I told Monica yes, I honestly didn’t think you and I would ever speak. I mean that. I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to hurt you. It was the perfect opportunity…or so I thought.
Every moment we spent together I wanted to come clean to you, but I couldn’t do it. I told myself it was because I didn’t want to hurt you, but it was mostly because I didn’t want to lose you. It probably makes me the worst person, because I’d like to say I’d go back and tell Monica no. That’s what I keep telling myself, but now, as I confess my truth, I’m not sure that is the truth.
It’s incredibly selfish, because I know you’re hurt and I don’t want you to be hurt, but I also don’t know if I would change knowing what it is to be loved by you. To be loved by you, Nash Pierce, is like performing in a rain show. It’s beautiful, exhilarating, epic.
You once said if all shows were rain shows, they wouldn’t feel so special, and I now understand what you meant. If all love was like your love, the world would be a lot better of a place.
I’m not asking you to forgive me. I know what I’ve done is wrong, and that it’s something we can’t come back from.
The only thing I ask of you is to know it was real for me. It was the rain show of my life. My epic love.
Everything you felt, I also felt.
I love you, Nash. I love you so much.
I’m so fucking sorry.
Always yours,
Rose
The night at the cabin flies by all too quickly. I could’ve stayed trapped in that bedroom with Nora for weeks, maybe forever, living off whatever we could find in the pantry. The feeling of her leg draped over me in the morning, her hair sprawled out around us, was a wakeup call I could get used to every day. The two of us watched the sun rise over the mountains from the large bed, our limbs tangled together. It was one of the most peaceful moments of my life. I didn’t feel pressure to be anyone but myself.
I was deliriously happy listening to Nora recall a high school spring break trip she took with Riley’s family to go skiing. Apparently, she fell face first when getting on the ski lift, too busy trying to flirt with the lift attendant to realize the chair was right behind her. Her cheeks were that perfect shade of rose as she recounted Riley’s tears freezing on her cheeks from laughing so hard.
We were lying in bed watching the sunrise when I realized I’d left my phone in the car the night before. Crawling out of bed, I kiss Nora on the cheek and head toward the door. I’m sure I have an abundance of missed messages from Monica and Tyson, and whoever else from the team who needs something, but if they really needed me, they knew they could reach Sebastian.
Speaking of Sebastian…my eyes go wide when I step out into the hallway and find both him and Riley tiptoeing in the opposite direction toward a room. Sebastian’s only got on a pair of boxer briefs, which is more than Riley. She has a big sheet draped around her shoulders, and it appears she doesn’t have anything on underneath.
“Nash, can you grab us some—” Nora stops in her tracks behind me, her eyes stuck on the two bodies on
the other end of the hallway.
Nora’s words catch their attention. After a few awkward moments, it occurs to me that Sebastian looks more embarrassed than Riley.
Finally breaking the silence, Riley speaks. “Oh, don’t look surprised. Surely you saw it coming.” She tugs on the sheet, making it fly in the air like a cape. She struts back to one of the bedrooms, not bothering to look back at us.
Sebastian is still standing in the hallway, his mouth hanging open. He watches Riley disappear behind the door before looking toward me. “Yeah, I’m just going to,” he hooks a thumb over his shoulder, “see y’all later.” Putting a hand over his junk, he walks back to the bedroom, throwing one last anxious glance over his shoulder before closing the door.
“Well, that was…” Nora says behind me.
“Interesting,” I finish, shaking my head with a smile. Riley is right, I can’t say I’m exactly shocked the two of them hooked up; they were flirting all night last night. I think I’m more taken aback by how unapologetic Riley was about it. I can’t wait to get the details from Bash later. It appears he’s met his match in Riley, and it’s quite possible that she might eat him alive.
The rest of the morning went by quickly. We made breakfast together as a group, all of us piling around the table and shooting the shit. Eventually, the time came where we had to head out, those of us having to perform tonight needing to get to the stadium.
Now I’m sitting in hair and makeup, letting my hairstylist, Toni, fuss with my hair when my phone rings. Looking down, I find Taylor’s caller ID blinking on the screen. She’s been calling and texting for a while now. She’s probably trying to weasel her way back into my life so she can be in the spotlight once again; too bad for her I want none of it. I decline the call, wondering if I should just go ahead and block her.
“How’s this?” Toni asks, looking at me through the large mirror in front of us.
Looking up at my hair, I find the same tousled locks that have been my signature look for years now. The long curls on the top of my head fall in different directions. A look that is supposed to look messy, as if I didn’t try at all, but a look that Toni has expertly fussed with. I honestly feel like I can achieve the same look by myself, just messing with it a little straight out of the shower, but I don’t tell Toni that. She’s been with me since I went solo, and I enjoy the time in the chair with her before a show. It calms me, hearing stories about her kids; and hearing her gripe about her husband is something I’ve grown accustomed to over the years.
I fix a piece of hair that’s hanging directly over my eyes. “It looks great,” I tell her, knowing a few songs into the setlist it’ll take up a mind of its own.
Callie, my makeup artist, takes the spot Toni just vacated. Rubbing her hands together, she gives me a smile before lathering something on my cheeks. Twenty minutes later, I’m done with hair and makeup and have picked one of my options for wardrobe.
“Knock, knock,” Nora says in the doorway of my dressing room. She’s already dressed and ready for the show. Her hair falls down her shoulders in loose curls. I want to run my hands through it, mess it up a little before the show, but I know she won’t allow it.
“There you are,” I say, pulling her to my chest. As I breathe in her familiar scent, I relax. I haven’t had a real home in a long time, but without permission, she’s slowly becoming mine. My hand rests on the back of her head, holding her against my chest. Her breath hits my skin through my T-shirt, comforting me even more.
Nora is quiet against me, her heart hammering against my body. Her arms wrap tightly around my middle, her hands fisting the leather of my jacket. We stand like that until I finally pull away, my hands going to cup both her soft cheeks.
“What’s going on in that mind of yours, Rose?”
Her long eyelashes reach her brow bone when she looks up at me. The crimson red of her lips is making me have dirty thoughts, memories flooding my mind of when those same painted lips have been wrapped around me after a show.
“I’m just really, really happy,” she answers, a sad tone to her voice. She takes a deep sigh, loosening her grip around me.
“Then why does it sound like there’s a but coming?”
My mind travels back to last night when I told her I’d fallen for her. It wasn’t something I was expecting to blurt like that. I hadn’t really even put an official label on the feelings I was having for her in my own head. I just knew she was slowly becoming my favorite person. Every moment I saw her was easily becoming my favorite part of my day, and she’d become my home. I didn’t need to go lose myself in another woman or in a bottle, because when I was with her, I didn’t hate who I was. Better yet, I knew who I was.
Before I’d met her, I was slowly drowning in my fame. Each day had run into the others. I was surviving, and some days I was barely doing that. The media would have a field day if they knew the number of times my security team had found me faded at the bottom of a bottle. My “relaxing weekend retreats” were code word for rehab. I wasn’t in a good place. I hated myself but didn’t have any desire to change. Now, Nora has made me realize that I want to get my shit together. For her, for my fans, but most of all for me. I needed her to remind me of everything I’ve taken for granted recently, and she did just that.
I’ve thought this many times before and I’ll think it again a million more times I’m sure, but…
Nora made me fall in love with music again, and in the process, she made me fall in love with her, too. Falling for her was effortless. It was as easy as coming up with the lyrics she’s now inspired.
Getting lost in my thoughts for a moment, I forget that I even asked her a question until she answers it.
“There’s no but. I’m just excited for your hometown show tonight.” She rocks back and forth on her heels with a smile. I can tell something is bothering her by her demeanor.
“What were you going to say?” I push. My thumb flicks over her cheek, removing a fleck of glitter that had fallen from her eyelids.
She leans into my hand, kissing my palm gently. “We’ll talk about it after the show, okay?”
Taking a step back, I examine her, trying to find any clue as to what’s wrong. Unfortunately, I come up short. Part of me begins to worry that she’s freaked out about what I confessed last night—about falling for her. In hindsight, I shouldn’t have said anything. We haven’t been together a long amount of time, and I know that having a relationship with me comes with a whole lot of baggage, but the moment felt right. Up in the mountains with her, away from the expectations, and eyes, of society, I felt completely at peace. I was so at ease that my feelings fell from my lips before I could think about the repercussions.
“Talk to me, Rose. If this is about last night—”
She cuts me off instantly, standing on her toes to reach my face. “Last night was perfect, Nash. Totally perfect.”
Leaning in, she brushes her lips against mine. I’m sure I’m about to ruin her lipstick, but I can’t help it, I deepen the kiss, needing to feel the intimacy with her. Needing to reassure myself that I didn’t mess things up last night.
To my relief, she meets my tongue with hers. Biting down, I pull on her bottom lip, testing it between my teeth before letting go.
Three taps against the doorframe has us breaking apart. A crew member clad in all black stands in the doorway, a timid smile on their face. Waving awkwardly in the air, she looks down at her shoes and says, “They’re ready for you, Nash.”
“Better get to it, superstar.” Nora pushes on my shoulder, guiding me toward the door.
Planting my feet, I turn around, my hands coming to rest on her hips. “We’ll finish this after the show. Okay?”
Nora nods, giving me a fake smile.
I follow the crew member out, looking over my shoulder before we step into the hallway. “Hey, Rose?”
“Hm?” she says, standing in the middle of my dressing room. One arm stretches over her middle, her eyes looking at me questioningly.
“What I said last night…I meant it.”
I don’t wait to see her reaction. Instead, I catch up with the crew member, exchanging pleasantries with her as we make our way toward the stage.
I’m listening to her rattle on about her new cat, Mittens, when a familiar face stops me in my tracks. Standing right next to the entryway to below stage, I find my ex-girlfriend, Taylor.
Taylor’s smile is predatory. One of her bony shoulders leans against a speaker box. Stopping in front of her, I let my eyes rake over her. The fake blonde strands of her hair twist around her shoulders, the curls reminding me of snakes, matching her venomous personality perfectly.
“I don’t remember inviting you. Tell me, did you get tired of riding my best friend’s dick?”
Throwing her hair over her shoulder, Taylor steps closer to me. One of her long nails begins to drag across my chest. “Aww, baby, are you jealous?” she purrs, looking at me like she’s plotting something.
“Maybe if it was a few years ago. Now? Looking at you makes my skin itch. I mean really, Taylor, lay off the lip fillers.”
Her puffy lips part in frustration, a hurt look overtaking her face. The old Nash would’ve felt bad for the low blow, but the Nash that saw my best friend buried balls deep inside her doesn’t give a shit.
A hot pink nail runs over her lips. “They’re natural,” she spits out, regaining the feisty personality that attracted me to her in the first place.
I laugh, knowing damn well she’s paid a pretty penny to make her lips that huge.
“What are you doing here, Taylor?” I ask with a sigh. I know I’m supposed to be below the stage right now, getting mic’d up. They won’t start the montage or send the dancers out until I’m ready, but that doesn’t mean I won’t have multiple people pissed off at me if I don’t make it down there quick.
My question seems to perk her up. She goes from frowning to smiling once again. Biting her lip, she takes a step closer to me, causing me to take one large step back to keep my distance.
Founded on Goodbye: A Rockstar Romance Page 20
