The Rockstar's Virgin

by M. S. Parker

  Like a disoriented sleepwalker, I blinked and stared at her. What was she doing?

  “What's wrong?” I asked.

  She gulped. “This doesn't feel right, Sean. You don't feel right. Are you okay?”

  What the hell did she mean? I didn't feel right how?

  “I'm fine.”

  “You don't seem fine.” She took a hesitant step toward me but kept her hands at her sides. “Is it your brother?”

  She may as well have thrown a bucketful of ice water over me. I gritted my teeth and glared at her, furious that she'd pinpointed exactly what was on my mind. Couldn't a man have some peace? I just wanted to escape for a while, and she was the only thing to date that stripped me of all my worries and fears and let me experience nothing but pleasure.

  “Look, baby, if you don't want to screw around, you could've just said so.” I pushed past her to the door, trying not to think about the expression of hurt on her face.

  It was better for her to hurt. The sting would warn her to keep her distance.

  I opened the door and started out into the night. She went to the doorway and watched.

  “Don't worry,” I said. “I won't go lonely. I'm not short on women.”

  I hated myself for it, but the sobering reality of the situation called for bringing her pain.

  I broke everything I touched. Always had, probably always would. And Hazel was too beautiful, too innocent to wind up in the graveyard of my broken toys. She was better off this way.

  Twenty-Five

  Hazel

  I should've yelled at him. I could think of dozens of retorts now that he'd gone, but my mind had drawn a blank earlier. I guess the shock had been to blame. How could I go from kissing Sean one second, to having him blow out of my trailer like I was the last person on earth he wanted to see the next?

  It wasn't fair. All I wanted to do was help. Who treated people like that when they were trying to help them? No wonder he didn't have any freaking friends.

  It was late, but the time difference between Michigan and Seattle meant that it was slightly less late for Cora. I decided to give her a call because I was feeling frustrated and more than a little lonely.

  “Hey, hon,” Cora answered. “How's the rock star life treating you?”

  “Horribly,” I grumbled. When I explained to her what happened only a few minutes before, I was nearly in tears by the end of it.

  “I don't think I can do this anymore.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I crossed a line today. I've gotten way too mixed up in all of Sean's drama, and it's starting to affect me.” I pulled my blanket up to my chin. I'd gotten into bed the moment Sean walked out of sight. “I'm supposed to be here to take pictures, but I've got this like...I don't know, obsession with figuring out this band's stupid lead singer. That's not healthy.” I struggled to get the next words out. “I-I think I have feelings for him.”

  She was quiet for a moment as she considered my words.

  “You don’t have feelings for him,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’re just suffering from a bout of bad judgment. It happens.”

  I'd tumbled that thought around in my head before, but more as a passing thought than anything else. I couldn't have feelings for Sean Morris, anyway. We lived in different worlds, we were two completely different people, and there was nothing about him that should have appealed to me on such a deep level.

  Yet here I was. Pining after him. That's what this was, wasn't it? I was freaking pining.

  “But why can’t I stop thinking about him?” I moaned, shoving my face into a pillow. “Am I being crazy?”

  My best friend's laugh tinkled in my ear. “You're not crazy. It's completely normal, given the circumstances.”

  “The circumstances?” I pulled my head out of the pillow's fluffy embrace. “And what circumstances are those?”

  “Well, you're attracted to him obviously,” she said, her voice gentle and soothing. “And he’s attracted to you. And the two of you are stuck in each other's orbits for the next few months. It would be crazier not to be interested, but that doesn't mean you should give in.”

  Cora got that part right for sure, but that wasn’t the whole of it. Sean also challenged me. We played these little games with each other, even if the other party wasn’t participating. And despite myself, I saw something redeeming under his dirty rock star persona. But I wouldn’t admit that now. I could barely admit it to myself.

  “So, it's settled.” I sighed. “I'm coming home.”

  “You are not,” Cora fired right back.

  “I am. I have to.”

  “Don't be stupid, Hazel,” Cora said in a stern voice. “You may think you have feelings for him, but that doesn't mean it's game over for your career. I love you, babe, but you need to get a grip. You've got a lot riding on this opportunity. Do you think you'll be thanking yourself in twenty years for backing out of the tour based on some infatuation when you're still chasing around bridezillas and snot-nosed toddlers? No. You'll be moaning about the opportunity you let slip through your fingers because it was easier to retreat than it was to put your armor on and get down to business.”

  Woah.

  I took a second, then cleared my throat. “That was quite the pep talk.”

  “You bet your booty it was,” Cora snapped and then let out a long exhale that vibrated in my ear. “So, what are you going to do about it?”

  “I guess I'm going to put my armor on and get down to business?”

  She tutted. “There's no guessing. You're either doing it or not.”

  “Yes,” I said, pulling my shoulders back. “I am.”

  And I would. Cora was right. Sean Morris be damned – I was going to do everything I could to get a leg up in life. If I backed out now, it would tarnish my reputation and my future career prospects. I had an opportunity to do great things on this tour, even if most of my time was spent snapping shots of people trying to screw Sean and his bandmates with their eyes.

  “I'm sorry you're not having a good time,” Cora said. “You'd think that being on tour with one of the world's biggest bands would be an incredible, life changing experience.”

  Well, it had been life changing at least.

  I lifted a shoulder she couldn’t see. “There's still time. Maybe things will get better. Maybe I'll make friends with the other guys.”

  That outcome wasn't likely, but I was trying to be at least a little positive so Cora didn't think I'd gone off the deep end. They wanted even less to do with me than Sean did.

  “Just don't go falling for any of them, either,” she warned jokingly. “I don't relish the idea of having to open a can of whoop ass on the whole band. Even I have my limits.”

  I laughed, and the exhalation of sound released some of the tension I’d been holding. “I'll make sure to keep that in mind. How's everything with you?”

  Cora accepted the change of topic, even if she didn't believe my watery positivity. We chatted for another few minutes before she said she had to call it a night, and then I was alone in my trailer again.

  It was quiet. The party was still raging at the hotel, but I was pretty far removed from it here. I wished it wasn't so quiet though. I wished Cora was here with me. Or Sean. But not the Rock Star.

  I pulled my laptop over from the other side of the bed and grabbed the USB stick on my keys. I looked through the photos hidden on the external drive, jealous of how the camera had been able to capture Sean's moments of honesty but I couldn't.

  Why couldn't he take off the mask for me? Why did he have to make it such a struggle? It couldn't have been comfortable to live without ever showing his true face. It probably itched something fierce.

  So why was the Sean I'd fallen for only available to me through these few, secret photos?

  Twenty-Six

  Sean

  Louisville, Kentucky. Home of the Louisville Slugger, Kentucky Fried Chicken, and the official midpoint of Flagship Inferno's six-month North American tour. The o
ther guys greeted the occasion by opening a couple bottles of champagne and using them to wash down a few lines of cocaine. I wasn't in the mood, hadn't been for a while now.

  Hazel had been steering clear of me since the night in Detroit when I'd slung that poisonous dismissal at her. I didn't blame her. She was always around, taking photos, making joking comments with everyone, but she was closed off to me now.

  That was fine. Or at least I was trying to be fine with it. But it didn't help that everytime I looked at her, it felt like somebody had punched me in the gut. And it certainly didn't help that everytime I was close to her, my fingers itched to reach out and pull her to me. I was a rock star. I didn’t apologize to anyone. And I wouldn't apologize to Hazel, even if hurting her was the last thing I wanted to do.

  This situation was better for everyone. I'd been an idiot to pursue her like I did, to let her in like I did.

  After the packed, exhausting show, I headed to the green room I'd picked and sprawled out on the couch, swiping down my Facebook timeline to kill the time until we left for the after-party. Normally this would be the part where I'd go pick up some groupie out of boredom and screw her brains out to decompress a little, but I didn't feel like it. The malaise that had settled over me had dampened my libido, which was about as unusual a phenomenon as you could get, right next to floating lights in the sky.

  A knock at the door brought my attention away from my phone. I figured it would be Justin or another one of my bandmates offering me a post-show party favor.

  “Come in!”

  The door open, and in stepped Jasmine Fox.

  “Shit,” I muttered. “Jasmine.”

  “What a greeting,” she said in a flat tone, closing the door behind her. She'd changed her hair since I saw her last. It was now a white-blonde pixie cut, which made the black lines of kohl around her green eyes ever more striking.

  I rose from the couch and pulled her into a hug. “They said you guys would be dropping in, but I guess I forgot.”

  She chuckled. “Dropping in. What a curious way of putting it. I suppose Brad wants the photo op to look as natural as possible.”

  Jasmine's band, Vixen Vendetta, was playing a show at another venue in town tomorrow. Since we had such a history with them, Brad liked to get us together to party whenever there was an opportunity to do so.

  I say we had a history with them, but I suppose it was more of a me thing than the rest of the guys. Jasmine had been one of my groupies once upon a time, and things had gotten more serious between us than I'd ever been with another girl. She came on tour for a while, wanting to soak up the rock star lifestyle. She partied just as hard as we did, and soon made a home for herself in the music scene. I was happy for her, especially since she had more talent in her left pinkie than most of the musicians I normally brushed elbows with. But growing up on the wrong side of the tracks hadn't afforded her much opportunity to showcase her skills until I came along. I suppose that's why we got along so well these days. When we were a couple, it was always fucking or fighting. It was clear to both of us that we didn't work as a couple, but we were still friends and usually hooked up when we were in the same town.

  “Do you want a beer or anything?” I walked over to the fridge and grabbed one out for me, waiting for her answer.

  Jasmine smiled. “You better keep 'em coming.”

  We settled onto the couch together and started catching up with everything that had gone in since we saw each other last. Jasmine filled me in on the latest antics of her bandmates, who were in many ways a crazier lot than my own. They liked to prank each other, which Jasmine found infinitely amusing.

  I didn't have much to tell Jasmine since I didn't feel like sharing about Dave or about Hazel. I wondered what Jasmine would think if I told her about our little photographer, about how tied up in knots I was over this girl. She'd think I was crazy. She'd be right.

  Jasmine finished her beer and smacked it down on the coffee table. “Right,” she said, stripping off her shirt. “Let's get those pants off.”

  “Jeez, romance a guy first,” I said dryly.

  Jasmine laughed. “Come on, Sean. You know how this works. Romance isn't either of our fortes.”

  She reached for my belt, and I had the sudden urge to smack her hand away. What was wrong with me? I wanted to be able to get into this, but it just wasn't doing anything for me so far.

  Jasmine opened my belt and then smiled at me coquettishly. “What do you want me to do first, Rock Star?”

  I want you to leave.

  The thought surprised me, and it must've shown on my face because her smile dipped.

  “What's the matter?” Jasmine asked. She sat back on her heels, studying me.

  I didn't answer. I wouldn't even have known what to say.

  But apparently, Jasmine didn't need my input.

  “This is about a chick, isn't it?” She cocked her head to the side. “You're hung up on someone.”

  Hazel's steel gray eyes flashed through my mind, but I shook my head. “No, I'm not.”

  “Yes, you are!” She pointed an accusing finger. “The great Sean Morris has developed feelings for somebody. Stop the presses, this one's a doozy.”

  “No, I haven't,” I growled in irritation. “Would you drop it?”

  But Jasmine had never backed down from a challenge. She grinned. “You've got feelings for somebody, and I can prove it.”

  With that, she hopped up onto my lap and pressed her lips against mine.

  Jasmine was sexy as fuck. I'd always thought so. But as she started grinding against my dick and pushing her tits against me, my mind was somewhere else.

  With someone else.

  I thought about Hazel, wished that I could replace Jasmine with her instead.

  The hollow in my chest that I'd been ignoring for weeks felt emptier than ever. And I knew it wouldn't matter if Jasmine kissed me all day – she wasn't the right girl.

  Twenty-Seven

  Hazel

  Brad found me just as I was about to shovel a forkful of macaroni and cheese from the food truck parked outside into my mouth.

  “Hey, Hazel,” he said gruffly. “Did you hear that Vixen Vendetta is stopping by to party tonight?”

  I nodded and rested my fork back in the Styrofoam container. “Yeah. I'm pretty excited to meet them. I think Jasmine's a total badass.”

  His eyes twinkled. “You have no idea. I want you to get some shots of her and Sean together. They've got a history so people always go nuts whenever the pair are in the same zip code, like they're some modern Sid and Nancy.” He huffed a laugh.

  I nearly dropped the macaroni. I'd never made that connection before, or maybe I just didn't read enough gossip magazines. But it made sense. Both of them were wild partiers, and they shared a lot in common. More than Sean and I shared.

  Not that I was still thinking about Sean. Not that I still had feelings for Sean.

  “Yeah, for sure. Are they here now?”

  Brad nodded. “Last I heard, Jasmine had gone off looking for Sean. They're probably smoking weed in the trailer or something. Who fucking knows. Could you go find them and get some pictures?”

  “Will do.”

  I tossed the container into the trash. My appetite had magically disappeared.

  I crossed the lot to the trailers first, but the band's RV was completely empty. I was a little relieved by this discovery as I'd walked over with a god-awful image of the two of them banging in the back of the RV seared into my mind.

  Jasmine Fox was gorgeous. She had razor blade sharp cheekbones and cat-like eyes that were practically magnetic in their ability to draw people in. Every time I saw her in interviews, she was always so confident and clever, with a honeyed voice that sounded phenomenal both talking and singing.

  I couldn't compete with that. Not that this was a competition. But if it were, I'd fall dead last.

  The whole way back into the arena, I reminded myself that Sean and I had never been a thing and never would
be a thing. He just wanted to get laid, and I'd presented a challenge for him for a while. And since we hadn't spoken in any depth since Detroit, I figured he'd finally given up.

  Go Team Hazel. Ra, ra, ra, and all that.

  I checked the stage next. Maybe it was because I was hoping they'd be there since it would make an amazing photo. Especially if I caught them when they thought they were alone. But the stage was just as empty as the trailer had been, which meant my options were slowly whittling down.

  Next on my list of possibilities was the green room. Sean always got first choice of dressing rooms when we set up at a new venue, and I made it my business to learn which one he'd chosen in each spot. So I could avoid him, I told myself.

  I approached the door, being mindful of the black equipment case that somebody had left jutting into the doorway a few inches. I cozied in beside it and reached out for the handle but stopped when I heard a noise from the other side.

  I strained my ears to hear more, leaning my whole face against the wooden door. The sound happened again.

  I pulled my head back, heart racing. There was a woman in there. She was moaning softly.

  Was it Jasmine? And if it was, did that mean that the person making her moan was Sean?

  I knew I should walk away and just come back in like half an hour, but my curiosity was wringing my stomach. I needed to know. It was going to hurt like a bitch, but I needed to know.

  I reached out and turned the handle quietly, then swung the door open just enough for me to look through and see the couch on the far side of the room. Sean was sitting on it, and a half dressed blonde woman – Jasmine – was grinding on his lap. They were clearly gearing up to have sex.

  Oh god. I felt like such a pervert, and I was struck between sheer embarrassment and heavy despair.

  I decided to retreat and go back to my trailer to lick my wounds. The only problem was that the deluge of emotion running through me had made me forget about the box I was taking care not to knock against. As soon as I turned, my knee hit the box, and I cursed in pain.