by Franca Storm
I almost spit out my beer. “And Nicki’s not a girl?”
“Not really. She’s like one of the guys,” Mitch tells me.
You have no fucking idea, man. And the way she tastes? Mmm. Delicious. I down some of my beer and force myself to agree, “Yeah. Right. So, what were you asking me?”
“When you and Nicki are gonna get down to songwriting. Our stuff is getting stale, man.”
Fuck, this is the worst time for all of that. But he’s right about the songs. We need more material ASAP. The two of us still haven’t finished the song we started a month ago. “I know. I’ll talk to her and see when she’s free.”
“Free for what?” her voice comes from the kitchen door.
I glance over to see her leaning against the door frame, her arms folded against her chest in her defensive pose. She’s wearing sweatpants and a baggy hoodie. More defensive tactics.
“To do some songwriting,” I answer.
“Whenever,” she says casually. “Whatever suits you.”
Whatever suits me, huh? Yeah, she’s pissed at me. “Fine. I’ll let you know.”
“Fine.”
“What the hell is up with you two?” Mitch asks, glancing back and forth between us.
“John?” Nicki says, putting it on me.
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it,” I tell Mitch.
“Well, as long as it doesn’t affect practice.”
“It won’t.” I glare hard at Nicki and drive my point home. “Will it?”
“Of course not,” she responds, approaching me. She reaches for the beer bottle in my hand and asks with fake sugary sweetness, “May I?”
I hand her my beer.
She leans against the counter and turns her body so that her back is to Mitch and only I can see her from the front. She licks the neck of the bottle, her tongue swirling around it slowly, lapping up all the condensation. And then her lips wrap around the neck and she pumps it in and out of her mouth slowly.
Fucking hell.
She finally takes a sip and then hands it back to me. “Thanks. Just what I needed.”
That’s it! “Come with me,” I demand, harshly, gripping her hand and pulling her behind me.
Mitch cocks an eyebrow, silently asking me what the hell’s going on. I ignore it and continue dragging Nicki behind me. When I reach the kitchen door, Chloe is walking in.
“What did I just walk in on?” she asks when she takes in the sight of me and Nicki both looking pissed off.
“Five minutes and we practice,” I snap at her.
I pull Nicki into my bedroom and kick the door shut behind me. As soon as we’re inside, I release her.
“You don’t manhandle me, John!”
“What the fuck was that?” I bellow, folding my arms across my chest and leaning against the door so she can’t get out until I’m done talking to her.
“What?” she asks, daring to deny it.
“The attitude? That fucking performance?”
“Performance?”
“The blow job with the bottle!” I thunder, getting more infuriated by the minute. She knows I have a nasty temper and yet she’s pushing me to unleash it.
She doesn’t answer. She just stares at me. At my cock, to be more precise. Yeah, what a shocker, Nicki. I’m hard after your little demonstration. Any guy would be after witnessing that.
“I should’ve known you wouldn’t be able to handle it!”
That gets her attention as I knew it would. Good. “Excuse me?”
“Me eating your pussy and finger fucking you until you came on my mouth,” I say, making it as graphic as possible to unnerve her and shock her into hearing me.
And sure enough she cringes and breaks eye contact. “You couldn’t handle it,” she says quietly, suddenly all embarrassed.
“Why do you think that?”
“Because you wouldn’t…you know?”
“What? Fuck you? I already explained why. We talked it out before I left.”
“What you said and what you meant are two different things. I know you, John.”
“Do you now? So what did I mean then, according to you?”
“That you’re too chicken shit to be in a relationship. You’re not ready to give up your groupies. Not even for me. Not even for us.”
Huh. Well, clearly she does know me then. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”
She scoffs and strides towards me, trying to get to the door. “Move. Or I’ll make you,” she threatens, clenching her right fist.
I step away from the door and throw it open. “Be my guest.” As she tries to walk through, I grip her wrist, stopping her. When she looks back at me, I warn her, “Don’t bring our personal shit around the band again. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes,” she says through gritted teeth.
“I’ll hold you to it. Believe me,” I tell her as I let her go. When she’s out of sight, I lean against the door and blow out a heavy breath. “Fuck.”
Chapter 9
~Nicki~
“No,” John tells me, flat out refusing me. “We’re not doing that cover at our next gig.”
“And why not?” I ask, eyeing him as I clutch my microphone.
He’s resting one arm against his microphone and drinking a bottle of water with the other. “It’s not our sound,” he answers. “And it’s too cheesy.”
“So love is cheesy now?” I question, cocking an eyebrow.
He recognizes the humor in my eyes and his gaze softens. And then he grins. “No. It’s not, Nicki. It’s not.”
“Aww, John. Going soft are you? Didn’t know you had a romantic side,” Chloe teases, sitting behind the drums and twirling her sticks around in either hand.
John glances at Mitch. “Help me out here. They’re ganging up on me.”
Mitch laughs. “Ladies, back off my boy.”
As Chloe and Mitch launch into another one of their bickering matches, I turn my microphone back on and start singing the opening lyrics to I Wanna Know What Love Is by Foreigner.
My gaze snaps to John in surprise as he joins me, his powerful raspy voice weaving with mine in that perfect way that sends a thrill through me every time we perform together. He winks at me and I grin happily. This is us communicating in the way we do best.
Mitch and Chloe fall into the rhythm and back us up. John watches as my fingers fly across my Fender, executing a flawless solo.
Then his gaze snaps to my eyes as we sing the final lyric.
The second the song is over, he flings his arms around me tightly. He whispers in my ear, “I know what you’re trying to say with this song. Just give me time, okay?”
He pulls back and looks at me expectantly, waiting for my agreement.
My stomach clenches. Just give me time. I’ve seen enough chick flicks, heard Chloe’s complaints about the guys she’s been seeing enough to know exactly what that means. I know how John is with other women. Everyone on campus does. He’s a big time player. He just takes what he wants from a woman and then he’s gone. There’s no way I’m gonna wait around for him to tire of screwing around with girl after girl before finally giving us a shot. Ugh!
It’s probably best to leave things as they are anyway. For the sake of our friendship and the band. It can only end badly. I already acted like a crazy woman in the kitchen this morning. I was trying to show him that I could handle what happened. That I was ready. But he read it as a challenge instead. God, that was embarrassing.
“Let’s just leave it,” I say quietly so that Chloe and Mitch can’t hear.
His eyes narrow. In what? Surprise? Anger? I can’t actually tell. It’s weird, because usually I can decipher every one of his looks. But since this development between us, it’s been impossible.
“Really?” he asks me.
I shrug my shoulders. “Yeah. It’s cool. We’re good.”
“Nicki…”
Shit, the look in his eyes catches me off guard. It’s the John I know. The gentle, compassionate John that only I get to see. Wait.
Is he pitying me?
“We’re good,” I snap harshly.
Thankfully, I’m spared another one of his invasive stares when Mitch walks over to us and says, “I have class. You guys gonna write for a while?”
John snaps out of the weird trance he’d been in. He clears his throat and asks, “Nicki?”
I shake my head. “Sorry, not today. I have to be at the gym in…” I glance at my watch, “…oh shit…in ten minutes.” I always end up losing track of time during band practice. Time just flies on by when we get into it.
“I’ll give you a ride,” Chloe calls to me.
“Oh, thank God. I owe you.” I rest my guitar against the wall and hurry to the door. “I need to get changed. Give me five minutes?”
“You got it,” Chloe says.
I can feel John’s eyes boring into my back as I open the door.
I don’t turn back around.
It’s for the best.
Chapter 10
~Nicki~
“When a guy says he needs time, what does that mean to you?” I ask Chloe from the passenger seat of her silver BMW.
She keeps her eyes on the road as she responds, “That he’s a dumb ass with commitment issues and not worth my precious time.”
“Just as I thought.”
“Why?” she asks, fluffing her long blonde hair absently. She glances at me, her Ray-Bans flashing my way. “Are we talking about a real guy here, Nicki?”
“A hypothetical guy.”
I can tell by her amused smile that she doesn’t buy my hypothetical bullshit.
“Who is he?”
Uh oh. “No one…anymore.”
“Did he tell you why he needed this time of his?”
“He said he didn’t want to hurt me.”
She snorts out a laugh. “Bullshit.”
“Really?”
She nods. “Yeah. It means he’s not a relationship guy. He wants to fuck other women and if you’re not okay with it—what woman would be?—then he’s not gonna add you to the notches on his bedpost. He doesn’t want the drama. That’s what he means about not wanting to hurt you cuz if you’re hurt, then it’s gonna come back on him.”
Huh. That makes perfect sense. It’s what I’d already thought. I’d just needed confirmation from someone with real world experience with guys. “Got it. So I should forget it then?”
We arrive at the gym and Chloe pulls into a parking spot. She cuts the engine and then turns to me. She takes off her sunglasses and eyes me with that serious listen-to-my-words-of-wisdom stare of hers. “Look, Nicki; chasing a guy and doing things entirely on his terms is just gonna end with you having your heart ripped out. Trust me. Never chase. Be the chased. That way you hold all the power. I know you don’t like games and stuff, but that’s what dating is. Besides, you’re a bombshell. Any guy that doesn’t want you is the biggest dumbass on the planet. You’re one of those girls that should always be chased.”
I screw up my nose. “Chloe,” I protest, embarrassed.
She laughs. “I’m serious. Whenever we’re out, you never notice all the guys looking your way.”
“I think they’re looking at you.”
She grabs her boobs and says, “They’re looking at these babies.”
“They are nice.”
We both burst out laughing.
Her eyes flick past me to the gym building. “You’re not talking about Axel.”
“How did you know?”
She smiles and points behind me. “Because he’s clearly someone who’s gonna chase you.”
I turn my head to see Axel standing there by the gym entrance waving at us and smiling. Chloe leans over me and waves back for the both of us.
“Stop,” I say, pushing her back to her seat.
“What? I’m just helping you out. You guys already kissed, didn’t you? How was it?”
“It…uh…it was a little rough, I guess.”
She scoffs. “So what? Just tell him how you like it. Besides, first kisses are always awkward.”
Are they? When John and I kissed it certainly wasn’t like that.
I shake my head. “Nah. Besides, I haven’t heard from him in days. He never called.”
“You were hibernating for a week or so. You guys take a lot of the same classes. He was probably doing the same, busy with schoolwork and stuff.”
I never thought of that. In the band, I’m the only one who ever seems to study. I’d just come to accept that as the norm and assumed I was the only crazy one who studied so much. But maybe Chloe’s right. Maybe Axel is like that too.
“He’s…”
“He’s what?” Chloe presses. “Wait. You can tell him yourself. He’s coming over here.”
“What? Oh shit.”
Chloe laughs. She knows how inept I am with guys. And flirting is totally beyond me. Oh God, this is gonna be awkward as hell. Before I can do anything, she rolls down my window as Axel reaches us.
He smiles and leans in.
“Hey,” he says sweetly.
“Uh…hey,” I respond, hating the stupid waver in my voice. Oh God. Save me.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call. I know this is gonna sound like a line, but I was honestly swamped with assignments. That paper for Heelman’s class on cognitive behavioral therapy nearly killed me.”
I laugh. “Yeah, I know. I struggled with it too.” Okay, this is good. I’m comfortable talking about this stuff.
“Maybe next time we can brainstorm together,” he says.
“Yeah, maybe,” I respond, noncommittally.
Chloe starts the car and says, “You two get going. I have some much-needed shopping to do.”
I turn to her and throw her a look. Shopping? What a blatant lie. She hates shopping alone. She never goes without me or one of her sorority sisters.
“Seems like you’re in very capable hands,” she says, winking at me. Her suggestive words make me blush instantly.
I fumble with my seatbelt. I’m about to open the door when, to my surprise, Axel opens it for me. I stare at him open-mouthed for a second, stunned by such a gentlemanly move. I thought people only did that in the movies. Well, I’m gonna take it.
“Thank you,” I say as I grab my gym bag and step out of the car.
He closes the door and Chloe takes off quickly, winking at me as she passes us by. I roll my eyes and turn my attention nervously to Axel.
“Is that heavy?” he asks as we start walking over to the gym entrance.
“A little, but I can handle it.”
“Tough as nails, are you?”
“You know it.”
He chuckles. “I like that in a woman.”
“Do you now?” I find myself saying. Wow, was that me who just said that?
His gaze drifts over me. My black sweat pants. My matching hoodie that’s open and revealing my grey sports bra beneath.
“Damn, those are some abs, babe.”
Normally defensive when it comes to such overt compliments, I find myself warming at his. Now, that’s a surprise. What is going on with me? Ever since John and I…did what we did…I haven’t felt so self-conscious about this stuff. Don’t get me wrong, I still have issues, but some of them have faded a little. I like it.
And I decide not to waste it. I make a bold move and lay my hand over his abs hiding beneath his sleeveless white t-shirt. He tenses in surprise but he doesn’t stop walking, doesn’t move away. I feel the distinct outline of a rock-hard set of abs.
“You’ve never boxed before. Where are these from? Swimming?”
“Spot on. I was on the swim team back in high school. How did you know?”
I take my hand off him and shrug my shoulders. “I’m a good guesser.”
Before I can stop him, his hand is on me. On my abs; touching me skin-to-skin. I suck in a sharp breath and he pulls back. “You don’t like people touching you?”
“I…uh…it depends.” He stares at me as though he’s trying to figure me out. Shit, I don’t like this hea
t on me. It’s unnerving. And so, I add quickly, “So, are you training today or sparring?”
“I heard about your fight today. I wanted to watch you kick Blake’s ass.”
Right, yeah. Blake and I are sparring today. “It’s not a fight. Just sparring in the ring.”
“I heard you’re really good.”
“I am.”
He smirks at me, obviously liking my arrogance when it comes to my boxing. I’m like that with my music too. If I know I’m good at something, I’m not gonna be all modest about it.
“Well, I can’t wait to see a demonstration.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” I jest.
***
“Time out, Blake?” I ask as he cups his left cheek that’s burning red from my jab.
I hear laughs from the guys crowded around the ring.
He grins at me and readies his boxing stance. “No, I’m good.”
“Told you not to underestimate her!” Jim calls to him as he leans against the ropes.
Jim taught me everything about fighting and not just about boxing. He’s taught me street fighting too, everything I need to defend myself. Jim’s in his sixties, but he’s still as fit as any of the guys here that are decades younger. He’s a big guy. Over six-foot and built like a tank with tattoos covering most of his skin. His stark white hair is always in a strict crew cut and he’s always clean-shaven. Never any stubble. All the guys nickname him Drill Sergeant. But behind that tough exterior are his kind hazel eyes—just like John’s. He’s been really good to me and he watches my back. I get that it’s dangerous having a woman in a gym completely dominated by guys. The air is always thick with testosterone and alpha-male posturing. There have been a couple of incidents where one of the guys has tried to mess with me; challenge me. But I dealt with them before Jim could even make it over to me. Although, the culprits were banned from ever returning after that.
“You called her your little princess,” Blake complains.
“She is. Doesn’t mean she can’t pound most of the guys here into the ground,” Jim fires back.
Blake fires off a quick jab. I dodge it easily as I bounce on the balls of my feet, my gloves up and ready for whatever he’s got.
He tries again and misses. It leaves him open and I roll with the opportunity, smashing my left fist into his solar plexus and following up with a right hook to the side of his face. He stumbles back in surprise. “Fuck,” he mutters, eyeing Jim with disbelief.
