Provoke: A Seaside Pictures Novella

by Rachel Van Dyken

  I charged into my room and threw my fist against the wall.

  Maybe I wasn’t scared.

  Perhaps what I thought was fear was anger and rage. Not even directed toward the shooter but at myself because I should have seen. I should have known. I should have acted faster. The music had been too loud. I was too into the dance sequence going on around me, tuned in to the screams of my name, living it up without even knowing that people around me were dying…for one whole minute, I had kept singing.

  And then a girl in front of me just…fell, blood all over her. I grabbed her and pulled her up onto the stage, and then kept grabbing people, as many people as I could. I shouted.

  Nobody heard.

  I slumped against the floor and held my face in my hands.

  A knock sounded on the door, and then Piper was walking in my room, sitting down next to me and putting her head on my shoulder like I hadn’t just lost my shit all over her. As if it was her fault that I was messed up.

  I sighed and then opened my mouth. “She was sixteen.”

  Piper just listened.

  “She had her whole life to look forward to. Had a shirt that said number one fan. Later on at the funeral, her parents handed me her poster. It said, Thank you for changing my life.” I felt the familiar tears welling in my eyes. “I changed it, all right. She’s dead because all she wanted for her sixteenth birthday was to see the great Braden Connor.”

  Piper squeezed my arm. “Do you think that she was happy that night?”

  I jerked my head toward her. “Happy to be shot?”

  She gave a quick shake of her head. “Before everything happened. Do you think she was excited to be there? Do you think she wanted to be there? That she was inspired by you?”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Okay then,” Piper said. “Braden, the world sucks, bad things happen all the time, and people are crazy. We know this. You didn’t write that song or any of your songs with some weird hidden agenda. You wrote them because you couldn’t not write them.”

  My throat felt thick. “I have to get the words out. If I don’t, I feel like I’ll die too.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “See, people say that, but those deaths, they’re on me. And every time I perform, I just think, what if it happens again? I’m so paranoid. I’m stiff on stage, I can’t even entertain anymore. I feel broken.”

  “Maybe that’s your answer.”

  “Quitting?”

  “No.” She cupped my face with her hands. “Using the brokenness to help everyone else heal along with you.”

  I gulped. “How do I do that?”

  She got up and went over to my bed, then grabbed the yellow notepad and tossed it to me with a pen. “You said you can’t not write. So write your pain. Write your truth and help the families heal with you. Help your fans heal. Because they need you now, more than ever.”

  And then she left.

  I burst into tears on my bedroom floor, sobs racking my body until every one of my muscles ached, the emptiness that gave my chest the hollow feeling sucking my body in on itself.

  I wasn’t sure what time it was when I finally stopped crying and started writing, but I did end up finishing a song. With my guitar in one hand, and my notepad in the other, I walked barefoot into the living room, searching for Piper.

  She was sitting on the couch, cheating on me by skipping ahead episodes on The Witcher. Still, she’d just saved my career, so I figured I’d forgive her just about anything in that moment.

  I cleared my throat.

  She paused the TV and turned, giving me a sheepish look. “Sorry?”

  “No, you’re not.” I grinned. “Also, I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t mean to freak out. I just…thank you for sticking by me. For coming into my room when I was a grumpy bear ready to destroy everything in my path.”

  “Tiger,” she corrected. “Bears have brown hair.”

  I smiled at that. “Angry tiger then.”

  “What’s up?” She hugged a pillow.

  I was suddenly so nervous I wanted to puke. I cleared my throat and then did it again, then sat down so I could just get it all out. “I wrote a song.”

  “Good!” She seemed genuinely excited, which gave me more courage.

  “It’s kind of…sketchy because it’s new, but, wow, this feels really difficult for some reason. Would you listen to it?”

  Her smile was so huge, I wanted to kiss her. “I want nothing more.”

  “Okay.” The damn throat clearing was going to be the death of me as I sat my notepad down with all its scribbles, grabbed my pick, and started strumming the haunting melody. It was my first song using F-minor, but it worked. I didn’t know how the hell it did, but it just did.

  I opened my mouth and started to sing. “It isn’t easy when you lose it all. When you see the ones you love fall. When destruction does its worst, while you’re trying so damn hard to do your best. But the world keeps turning, we keep fighting. In the end, that’s how we honor the dying. Forward not backwards, strong not weak, survivors are we, survivors we’ll be.”

  Tears ran down Piper’s cheeks as I moved to the chorus.

  “I never thought my feet would take me here, and yet all I have is fear. But we keep going, no choice to stay the course. And know the force of love is all we need, just the slow rhythm and beat of the heart inside, of the life we were given when others died. This is our anthem, our new song, repeat it over and over for the gone.”

  I stopped playing and gazed back into Piper’s eyes.

  Her beautiful face was streaked with tears, and then she launched herself across the couch, grabbed my face, and kissed me everywhere she could.

  I dropped my guitar onto the carpet and kissed her back hard, as much as I could, trying to show her my gratitude. The love I felt budding in my chest, the way she made me feel when she had no reason to stay but did anyway.

  I picked her up and set her in my lap.

  And then she was pulling at my shirt.

  I wondered how I’d ever lived without her hands touching my skin. My shirt went flying, followed by hers, and then I just went for it, unhooking her bra, cupping her perfectly full breasts in my hands. They were so sensitive I could feel every gasp, every moan as I kissed her again, while she went for the button of my jeans and gripped my length in her hand.

  I hadn’t been lying when I’d said I didn’t do one-night stands. I’d had sex in high school then promptly stopped once I started getting famous because I had no idea if it was real or if I was just a celeb they wanted to screw.

  So, it had been a few years.

  I groaned, feeling myself harden in her hand to a painful degree as my body surged with adrenaline, need, and a greedy desire to bite and mark every inch of her skin.

  “Damn, your hand feels good,” I muttered against her mouth.

  “I bet I know what would feel better,” she teased.

  And then I did it.

  I gripped her by the ass and laid her across my coffee table, jerking off her sweats in the process, leaving her in nothing but a pair of pale pink underwear that I was going to rip off of her with my teeth. Okay ,maybe not. Be a gentleman, not a caveman. I pulled them down to her ankles and threw them next to the rest of our clothes. “I’m suddenly so thankful I missed dinner.”

  “What—?” Her hips bucked off the table as I licked, exploring her like she was mine—because she was, no take backs. Ever. Her soft moans and breathless pants were like little instructions for where she wanted my tongue, where she wanted my hands as they freely roamed up her body. My fingers dug into her thighs, holding her in place as she went wild beneath my mouth. “You taste…” I wanted to roar. “Like dessert.” I looked up. “Apologies for calling you dinner.” And then I used one finger, then two, and felt the exact spot she needed me the most as her legs shook around me.

  The minute my fingers touched, she was gone, and I finally heard what I’d been waiting for all my life—my girl scre
aming my name as she felt her release.

  My girl.

  The one made for me.

  The one who didn’t care that I was broken and kissed me anyway.

  I crawled up her body and kissed her, swirling my tongue around hers, tasting her, knowing she tasted herself on me. I got so ridiculously turned on that she did, I almost lost all control.

  I gripped her wrists, pinning them over her head. “Tell me you’ll stay.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “I think leaving right now would destroy me.”

  “I need you,” I admitted. “But if you want to stop…”

  “I need you too,” she confessed. “Have me. I’ve been yours since the minute you called me out on my missing buttons.”

  With a laugh, I kissed her again then lowered my body over hers, enjoying the sensation of our skin meeting. It was like writing the perfect song, the way her body played for me. The little sounds she made that told me she was desperate for me and me alone.

  Addicting.

  I kissed her harder and then teased her entrance, only to have Piper, play-by-the-rules Piper, hook her ankles around me and pull me in all the way to the hilt.

  I almost blacked out as sweat pooled at the small of my back. Before my body could take over, my mind caught up, and I froze.

  “Uh, Piper…? I don’t do one-night stands, but we didn’t use any protec—”

  She cut me off with a hard kiss and a whispered, “I’m on the pill.” And then she moved her hips, not me.

  I loved it.

  I loved that she created her own music with her body and didn’t give a damn that I was on top of her, that I was the guy. She knew herself, knew what she wanted. I would be her slave forever and ever if that’s what it took.

  I angled myself higher and met her movements, gripping her ass with each deep thrust. Her muscles tightened around me as she squeezed; she was going to kill me before the night was over.

  And I was okay with that because I suddenly realized that even if I had been spared for this moment, I would be thankful for it. Because I was happy. Just like the people at my concert. Happy. Fulfilled. Full.

  I captured her mouth with my lips and pumped harder, pulling a thigh higher over my shoulder before feeling her contract around me and scratch her nails down my arms, her body shuddering beneath me.

  Watching her climax was so much better than Netflix.

  She opened her eyes.

  And then I was gone because her eyes said so much more than her body ever could.

  Her eyes said, “Mine” right back at me.

  I knew my life would never be the same again.

  Chapter Twelve

  Piper

  Had I still been employed, I would have felt so guilty, I likely would have confessed to my boss right away.

  But I wasn’t.

  I let myself relax in Braden’s arms. When he carried me to his bed later, both of us completely naked, and refused to let me put on clothes, I smiled so hard my face hurt.

  When he brought out chocolate syrup and said he was still hungry, I let him lick it off my body and nearly died from the way his lips tasted afterward.

  Like me, him…and chocolate.

  Minutes later, he was pulling me into his shower, and I was dropping to my knees, taking him into my mouth. I explored him like he had me, loving like he did, and I wondered how I would ever let this guy go.

  Why would I ever want to?

  But how could it work?

  His hands dug into my hair as I teased the tip of him. When I took him in fully, his massive body shuddered, losing all control.

  “Your mouth,” he hissed. “Damn, you make me high, Piper.”

  I just grinned and then ate my dessert the same way he had. By the time we made it to bed, it was three a.m., and I was exhausted. Braden tucked me into his body and kissed the top of my head, then whispered, “Thank you.”

  I wasn’t sure if he was thanking me for helping him or for the sex, but I still fell asleep with a smile on my face, only to wake up and find him gone.

  I frowned and then stretched my arms overhead and grabbed one of his shirts and a pair of sweats off the floor.

  I probably looked like hell, but I didn’t care.

  “Oh shit.” Drew took one look at me and then looked away. Zane sighed and then handed Drew a twenty.

  “Really?” My eyes narrowed.

  “What?” Zane shrugged. “We get bored in Seaside, and he’s perfect for you. So, yeah, we made a tiny bet. By the way, he’s out grabbing you breakfast. We were told to make sure you didn’t panic when you woke up. Would have helped if he told us more details, but yeah….”

  I gulped. “I was fired.”

  “Son of a bitch!” Drew roared. “I’ll call them right now—”

  “No, no, no, that’s not—it doesn’t matter. I’m thankful. We’re still working together, and things are good. Actually, I’m glad you’re here. I had an idea. Think of it as the final push.”

  “I’m listening,” Zane said.

  “He’s been writing, healing through the music, using his brokenness to help his fans as well. I think there’s one more thing that would help him reach that final level.”

  “Done,” Drew said without even asking what I was talking about. “When do you want to do this?”

  I thought about it for a minute. Selfishly I wanted to do it in a week and a half so if he was pissed, my heart wouldn’t be broken when he sent me away.

  But the other part of me, the one that wanted to help him, knew that we needed to get him out of his head. So I said, “As soon as possible.”

  “All right, you have my attention. What’s the plan?” Drew sat, and I talked.

  By the time Braden came back, we had a solid game plan in place that would either set him off or save his career.

  Zane and Drew departed after the breakfast burritos, which left me alone with my favorite person in the world.

  “So.” Braden smirked. “Movie? Lunch? Vision board?”

  “Hey, you owe me two more things on your board.”

  “Come here.” He motioned, then drew a heart on his board and put an arrow through it. Then he wrote love. He jotted down a few of the lyrics from his new song. “Done.”

  Tears filled my eyes. “You know you’re pretty romantic for a redhead.”

  “I’m insulted.” He put a hand to his chest. “Hair has nothing to do with romance. Everyone knows it’s about the six-pack.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Let it go.”

  “I’m not Elsa. Sorry, not sorry.”

  I burst out laughing. “All right, let’s go, Romeo. You still have work to do.”

  “Work?”

  “Write.” I grinned. “And I’ll job search.”

  He hesitated. “Job search?”

  “I can’t live here forever,” I joked. “I mean, that’s crazy. I need a job, I’m sure something will pop up in LA.”

  His face fell. “Yeah, you’re really talented.” His smile returned but it was different. “I believe in you.”

  “Thanks, Braden.”

  “If I finish another song, can I lick your—?”

  I threw a pillow at him.

  “Hey! I was going to say hand!”

  “Lies,” I deadpanned.

  “Fine, I was going to say something way more…pink. Aw, you’re blushing, how adorable.”

  “Braden,” I warned.

  “Fine.” He offered a shrug as if to show he didn’t care. “But when I finish my song, I get rewarded, right?”

  I tilted my head. “You want me to make you a cake?”

  “Um, depends. Are you popping out of it naked?”

  “Nah, too messy.”

  “Well damn, there goes that fantasy.”

  “I’m a crusher of dreams.”

  “False.” He grinned. “You’re the starring role in mine.”

  I didn’t know what to say. When I realized I had rolled my lips inward, I forced myself to relax.

  H
e gave me another sly smile. “I get to kiss something. Promise.”

  “Promise.”

  “And, Piper?”

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s going to be about you.”

  “What is?” I said, curiosity piqued.

  “My new song.”

  My jaw dropped. “Braden, you don’t have to—”

  “I can’t help that you inspire me. Now go job search, and I’ll write about this sexy girl in a pantsuit.”

  “Sounds kind of anal.”

  “Hey, that’s an—”

  “Out!” I pointed to the door.

  His laughter followed him the entire way to his bedroom.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Braden

  I’d never had a partner before, at least not the sort who took care of me the way Piper did. She randomly dropped off a sandwich when I was writing in my room. Minutes later, a Coke Zero was set on my desk. Hours after that, she came in with another snack and asked how I was doing. All I kept thinking, while my heart was panicking, was how did I ask her to stay without making it weird?

  I was torn between trying to write music and attempting to figure out ways to make her stay.

  It was more than a crush to me.

  More than a one-night, or technically, a multiple-orgasm stand.

  I just wanted her, but how did you tell a girl you’d only known a little over a week that you wanted her to stay with you?

  I sure as hell couldn’t ask her to move in unless I played it cool. Like she could stay with me until she found something solid. But then once she did find something solid, she’d leave.

  And asking her to be my roommate meant she’d want to pay me, and that just made me want to fight.

  And then there was the tour.

  I was technically supposed to be on it in less than ten days if things went well.

  Which meant no more Piper, no more laughter, no more sandwiches. And damn, the woman made a good sandwich; she always put in extra mustard like she knew it was all I wanted.