by Tara Brown
I laughed, on the verge of tears. “Quit what? Quit being you?”
He shook his head and knelt in front of me. I was only slightly taller than him with him on his knees. “Quit the band.”
I ran my hand down his cheek. “You can’t quit being you. That’s you up there on the stage, winking at the ladies and having fun. You’re alive up there. It’s me that’s taking something amazing and rare and ruining it. It’s like dating a god. I’m bringing you down to my level, with my problems and flaws, and ruining you.”
He ignored me as usual and changed the subject. “Can we give it time?”
I sighed. “Loch, we had sex and we live together. Time for what? We fucked up, just like I said we would.”
His eyes glistened. “Slow it down. Take it back to the flirty place we were yesterday.”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Can we be friends?”
I kissed his forehead. “Of course.”
“Same deal as before?”
“Yup.”
He looked a bit relieved. He took a breath. “I want to take it all back. I want to take it back.”
I sighed. “Me too.”
Chapter Nine
Cold feet
Classes dragged on. I always wanted to text him. Even worse, I wanted him to text me, but he’d done the friendship thing perfectly. He hadn’t overstepped his boundaries once. He was worse than before.
We laughed and joked, and he ordered and plated my food. It was blissfully normal in the fakest way imaginable, and I seemed like the only one who saw how awkward it was.
All I could do was wonder if he was screwing other girls when he wasn’t at home, or if the reason he didn’t meet my eyes with his was guilt. He signed boobs and kissed cheeks whenever we left the house. He posed for pictures. I got to the point that I never left the house, except for class and groceries.
He acted like it was normal that all we did was hang out in the apartment, watching entire series on Netflix.
I knew it wasn’t.
I left class and headed for the Starbucks near the house. Gerry was meeting me. He was worried about me. I was too. I wasn’t any happier with him being Lochlan Barlow and single than I was when he was my Loch.
I walked, noticing the bite in the air. The end of October was cold compared to the muggy warmth of September. I wrapped my sweater around me tighter and walked quickly.
“Erin!”
I looked back to see one of my professors. I waved. “Hey, Dean.” He insisted we called him by his first name. He was the cool teacher.
He jogged over, smiling. He was good looking and only about thirty-five, at the most, so he was the typical hot prof.
“I meant to talk to you about the civil rights paper you handed in.” He breathed heavily as he reached me. His charming smile faded into a serious look. He cocked a dark eyebrow and ran his hand through his short chestnut hair. “It wasn’t your best work.”
I winced. “Sorry.” I didn’t have time to worry about it; my torts homework was also due.
He shook his head and pulled it from his briefcase. “Here, I’m giving you a second chance.”
I gave him a confused look. “What?”
He nodded and started walking the way I was going. “Yeah. I know you’re good for at least an A, if not an A plus. This was shit. I gave you a C.”
I laughed, giving him a wounded look. “Don’t sugarcoat it.”
He shook his head. “Hey, you’re not an undergrad. I’m not going to babysit you.”
I looked down. “I know.”
He gave me a sideways look. “I heard Lochlan Barlow broke up with you. I sort of assumed that it was directly related.”
I gasped. “What?”
He blushed. “Sorry. I’m not trying to pry.”
“Where did you hear that?”
He pressed his lips together. “A blog that follows the band. They said that he was seen with other girls and that you weren’t in the picture anymore.” I almost threw up.
I got control of my near gagging and frowned. “They knew my name?”
He nodded, giving me a grim look.
I sighed. “You’re a fan?”
He laughed. “I’m not that old.”
“My dad’s a fan and he’s nearly sixty. It isn’t about age.”
Dean shrugged. “He’s an amazing singer. The drummer is very skilled. They’re just one of those honest bands that has natural talent. I saw them live in the bars a few times and it was life changing. Very raw and moving. They love what they do.”
My throat burned.
He hit my arm. “Forgive me. I’m sure it hurts to talk about it.”
I nodded. “Something like that.” I let it be that Lochlan broke up with me. I let that be the truth, because what did it matter for my career?
“Where are you headed?”
I pointed up the street. “Starbucks.”
He smiled. “Me too. I’ll walk with you.”
A smile crossed my lips. “Okay.”
“So did you watch the footage last night on the case going on in Los Angeles with the mom who murdered her kids?”
I nodded. “Yeah. They’re really trying for that insanity plea.”
He scoffed. “She isn’t insane. She’s selfish. You can see people’s sins in their eyes. Watch hers—they don’t dart like a crazy woman’s would. She’s sane. She has remorse and demons in there now. Guilt is impossible to hide in the eyes. If you choose defense as your career, you have to make sure you inspect the eyes of every potential client. They say that eyes are the window to the soul, and when it comes to passionate emotions like hate, love, guilt, and sorrow, that’s true.”
I knew that to be true. I’d seen the demons release the beast in Lochlan. His demons swirled in his eyes.
Dean got the door for me. He walked to the counter. “What should I get you?”
I shook my head. “You don’t have to buy my coffee.”
He smiled. “Of course, I do. I just bored you to tears with my eye speech. Now tell me, so I don’t order the wrong thing.”
My chest burned instantly. Lochlan always ordered for me against my will. I opened my mouth to say caramel macchiato, but all that was there was. “Soy vanilla latte, please.” It was the drink Lochlan always got us both—regardless of the fact that I didn’t like soy milk much. I got us a table and sat down. I made sure I got one with a few chairs. I knew Gerry would be there any minute.
Dean carried over my drink and sat down. He took off his sweater, and I noticed how attractive he really was. His body was tight and fit. He was tanned and athletic looking. I smiled and imagined what it would be like to date someone like him. He was my kind of perfect.
“So did I tell the class the joke my grandmother emailed me this morning?” He sipped from his drink.
I shook my head, lifting my cup to sip.
He laughed before he told the joke, making me laugh. It made the sexy mature man seem cute and adorable.
He calmed himself. “Okay, why do male attorneys usually wear tight shirt collars and ties?” He snickered. I shrugged. He fought his laugh. “It keeps their foreskins from creeping up and covering their faces.”
I laughed out loud. Hearing him say foreskins was weird.
Dean was almost crying.
“Your grandma?” I asked.
He nodded, wiping the tears in his eyes. He sighed. “She’s a crazy old bitch.”
I laughed harder but Dean stopped. He looked up, red-faced instantly. I turned to see Lochlan hovering above me with a savage look in his eyes. I smiled. “Hi.”
His eyes never left mine. I hadn’t seen this face since we’d left Gerry’s that night. It made me nervous to see the beast so close to the surface in a coffee shop. I pointed. “This is my professor, Dean Hamilton. Dean this is my friend, Lochlan Barlow.”
Dean stood, putting a hand out. He looked like he might cry.
Lochlan didn’t take his eyes off of me. I looked behind him to G
erry at the till. He grabbed the drinks and hurried over. I pointed to him. “And this is the drummer of Thin Ice, Gerry Ronson. Gerry, this is my professor, Dean Hamilton.”
Gerry put the two coffees down and shook his hand quickly. “Lovely to meet you.”
I grabbed Lochlan’s hand and squeezed. “Can I talk to you outside?” I smiled at Dean and Gerry. “Excuse us.”
Gerry nodded, understanding the awkwardness, and put a hand on Dean’s arm. “So, a professor, huh?”
I dragged Lochlan out the door, pulling him to an alley. It was a quiet spot. It didn’t matter where we went, he was Lochlan Barlow. People were taking our picture and watching us. I shoved him behind a dumpster and paced for a second.
When I looked at him, he looked frozen over but he spoke softly, containing his rage. “What was that? I thought we weren’t dating other people.”
I tilted my head. “You haven’t kissed a single girl or fucked one stranger?”
His eyes twitched with the guilt Dean had been talking about. I nodded. “I figured as much.” I was shaking inside, but I remained calm on the outside. “That was my teacher. I have bent over backwards to ensure that you stay calm. I do everything I can to not make a scene for you and your reputation. You can’t give me the same courtesy?”
He loomed over me. “Are you screwing him?”
An astonished look stormed across my face. “Are you hearing me?”
He stepped toward me, forcing me to back up. My back pressed against the brick building. He bent down low to me. “Are you screwing him?”
My lip trembled. I nodded out of spite and hatred of the way he made me feel. “Yup.”
The switch was fast. His face went dark. His hands balled up. I shoved him back, like an idiot, and turned to walk away. He grabbed my arm, spinning me. “Why? Why him and not me? He’s your teacher, for Christ’s sake.” He was shaking. He was homicidal. He wasn’t fun to toy with. He was too crazy.
I sighed, seeing the poor choice I was making. “He’s gay, you idiot. I just said it to piss you off so you know how it feels to be jealous and insecure. I know what you’ve been at since . . . before . . . me and you. The funny part though, is that now you know how it feels. Granted, he’s gay so it’s not like I’m going to get any, but at least you know how this feels. And that makes me petty and horrid and happy.” I covered my face with my hands, shaking my head.
“I saw the way he looked at me when he met me. He looked nervous.”
I flailed my arms, shouting for all the spectators. “YOU ASSHOLE, HE THINKS YOU’RE HOT! LIKE A SUPERSTAR! HE LIKES YOU, NOT ME! HE FOLLOWS THOSE STALKER BLOGS ABOUT YOU! HE WAS TELLING ME ABOUT WHAT’S ON THERE, SO FUCK YOU!”
My chest was rising and falling rapidly. I bit my lip and tried to get control of myself. I was a hot mess. He made me crazy and out of control. I looked at him with daggers and pointed at the café. “I guarantee he’s getting Gerry’s digits right now. He’s a huge fan.” I covered my trembling mouth with my hands and took deep breaths into my palms.
His body wrapped around mine. I hated his touch. I shoved him off of me and stalked down the alley. A guy snapped a picture of my tear-stained face as I turned away from the coffee shop and walked home.
I was on the couch eating from the Ben and Jerry’s tub when he got home.
Danny had mated for life with the blonde Gabby bitch and wasn’t there to be a buffer for me. I knew we would be talking about it, no matter what. I was ready for him.
He looked adorable carrying my pretty, pink Coach school bag that I’d left at the coffee shop, but I didn’t acknowledge him. He walked over to the couch to see what I’d done.
He dropped the bag on the couch, my side of the couch. He started to laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
I ignored him until he took a step for me. I put my hand out. “This is my side. You stay on your side. All your shit is there anyway.” And it was. His jeans and pop cans and water bottles and food wrappers were all shoved to one side of the room. My side was immaculate. The divider was a thick, black line painted onto the wall and floor. Duct tape made the line on the couch.
He stared me down. “You’re making me crazy. I was a fun guy before I met you. I rarely lost my tempter or worried what girls thought or did. I had sex, I drank, I sang, and I liked my life. You are killing me and making me insane. I’m doing things my anger-management coach would have a heart attack about.”
I shrugged. “Then I guess we’ll be nuts together. No one is getting out of this friggin’ apartment sane.” I didn’t care. Not anymore. He’d fucked other chicks, I knew it. I could practically smell them on him.
He crossed the line.
I jumped off the couch, holding my mace at him. “I told you I won’t leave. I’ll stay here like your friggin’ prisoner, but you stay on your goddamned side. Your stuff is on that side of the room and mine is on this one.”
He stepped into me, calling my bluff. “Mace me. I don’t give a shit. The only fucking thing I care about in this goddamned room is on your side.” He sat on the couch and pulled me down with him and sat me on his lap. I struggled, but he just held me and whispered. “I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. “I don’t care. I don’t care.”
“I apologized to him. Dean seems really cool. I’m sorry. I saw him looking all professional and clean cut, like you. And you were laughing so hard, and I assumed the worst. He deserves someone like you. He’s professional and smart and I’m not.”
“I know you have your MBA, so don’t play dumb Little Drummer Boy with me. Besides, you’ve been screwing other people, so you can’t care if I have coffee with my teacher. I’ll do what I want and who I want.”
His eyes flickered again. “Firstly, I will give you points for being witty, but I’m the singer not the drummer. Secondly, I haven’t had sex since you and me.”
I saw myself in his eyes and my heart believed him. I freed one of my arms and scoffed. “I see the guilt.”
“I was drunk and a girl kissed me. I stopped it. I’m sorry. Someone posted it to a blog, and I assumed you saw it. I felt like shit.” He looked down.
I lifted his face, staring into his eyes with burning hate. “You said you wanted me. If you wanted me, you wouldn’t kiss other people.”
His eyes stayed true and strong. “I want you. I’ll always want you.” I looked at my face in the darkness of his pupils and swallowed the venomous things I wanted to say. His eyebrows pulled together. “I am fucking trying, princess. I am, I swear. I’ve been trying so hard to show you . . . to deserve you. I swear it.” He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against mine. “Do you really feel like a prisoner?”
“No. Sometimes it’s a little bit like Beauty and the Beast with you though. You get so crazy, and I don’t know what to do.”
He looked up and gave me his smug smile. I pointed a finger in his face. “You call me the beast and you’re dead.”
He laughed hard, pulling me into him. He smelled my hair. I did the same on his neck. We snuggled for a minute, but I couldn’t take it. I pressed play for my show. I needed there to be someone else in the room.
He took the carton from my hand and we snuggled on the couch, watching Downton Abbey while he ate the rest of my ice cream. “This show is insane,” he muttered, taking a huge bite.
I pointed at the screen. “You missed some hot stuff about ten minutes before you got home. Little bit of back-door romance.”
He gave me a look. “Anal sex? They show that on the BBC?”
I laughed. “No, like clandestine love affairs. Like sneaking around.”
I laughed harder when he took a bite and shrugged. “Whatever. In the South, backdoor means taking it in the ass.”
I plugged my ears. “Ewwwww.”
He grinned and sparkled, and became the guy I couldn’t resist, even if he was saying dirty shit.
We fell back into the comfortable relationship we liked. I wouldn’t let him remove the paint or the tape, even if he ref
used to stay on his side. Against all the odds, we became the people we were before. The ones who lived together without sex and drama. He was texting me more. It made me happy, too happy. We were headed down the same flirty road as before. I knew the sex and the relationship were inevitable because he was back to being sweet and staying in the apartment with me. And I was weak. He was everything.
The only saving grace was that he was traveling a lot with the band. They had left for Detroit the day before for a concert. It was his first televised concert since the show he had gotten kicked off of. I looked at my phone to see if he’d messaged me or not. The girl in the chair next to me nudged me. “You and Lochlan Barlow still dating?”
I gave her a confused look. “No.”
She leaned over to another girl and whispered my answer. I looked at the girl and smiled. It was Lise from the bar. She gave me a wave. I smiled at her. How had I not noticed her in my class?
My head was up my ass for sure.
After class we walked out together. “So, no more bad-boy singers, huh?”
I shook my head. “No. We shouldn’t have ever crossed the roommate boundaries. It was stupid.” I didn’t mention, we were currently about to take the same crash course as before.
She winced. “Yikes.”
“Whatever. So have you been in this class the entire time?” How had I not seen her?
She laughed. “No. I switched out of the one on Fridays. It’s the same class, and I begged and pleaded so they let me. I had to get a job and I work Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays now.”
“Awesome. Where?”
She gleamed. “The bar where Thin Ice plays on Fridays. I can make five hundred in tips those three days.”
My jaw dropped. “No way.” My parents were paying for my schooling, but an extra couple grand a month would help out a ton.
She nodded. “You want a job? I know Brian is looking.”
“Hell, yeah. I don’t have anything after eleven on Fridays—I’m free from lunch on.”
She pulled her cell out. “Call this number, ask for Brian, and tell him you’re my friend.”
