by Nora Flite
My heart throbbed in empathy.
The shoot was over as fast as Brenda had promised. We'd driven a few miles with the van for the photographers following us. Tires squeaked, stopping the bus so the group could clamber off. They were efficient. I appreciated that.
“So!” Brenda whirled to face me, not stumbling on her spread feet when the bus took off again. “That went well, didn't it?”
“It went fast.” Eyeing Lola, I noticed she wasn't looking at me. “You ready for a break?”
Peeking upwards through her roof-edge of lashes, she hesitated. “Do we have time for that?”
She's worried about the show. I was, too, but no longer for the same reasons. Lola was ready to play. As long as I held back from aiming my pure energy and desire right at her, she wouldn't fuck up. My bigger concern was attached to her success.
She would do amazing. Everyone would know her, and they would love her.
I was fucking terrified.
“We've got time. You won't do us any good if you pass out from hunger.” I glanced at Brenda. “We need more supplies. There's literally nothing here but alcohol.”
“I know, I know.” Messing with her hair, she pouted. “Think you guys can handle pizza today? I promise after the show tomorrow, I'll pack this place full of goodies for the next hike.”
Porter stole more coffee from the box on the table. “I can eat more pizza if you promise to add some fruit to the next stock up.” Noting Brenda's squint, he bobbed his shoulders. “We can't live on sugar and fat alone. You want this band to make it another few years?”
“Actually, I don't know if I'll make it to tomorrow.” Colt stumbled from the hall, his face like wet cheese. “Fuck, I really did drink too much.”
A flicker of disgust rolled up in me. The sweet, shocking sound of Lola's laughing snuffed it out. She was sitting on the chair, one knee hugged to her chest. The blue in her eyes was glowing. “Sorry,” she said quickly, covering her grin. “You guys are just hilarious sometimes.”
Where had my frustration with Colt gone? Out the window with her laughter. Tugging at the hem of my shirt, I sat across from Lola. “Pizza's fine with you too?”
“Anything is fine right now.” She toyed with the ends of her hair, smile going stale. “Whatever they used made my hair super soft. Jesus.”
The tips of my fingers itched to touch it. To touch any part of her. “Wait till we get backstage at the show. You'll see some real crews for hair and makeup then.”
The bus seat opposite us creaked. “Yeah,” Porter chuckled. “And if you thought last night was crazy, the afterparty will kill you.”
I didn't like his phrasing. My lips made a bloodless line. The afterparties, where guys will be fawning all over the new guitarist of Four and a Half Headstones. Now my fingers were aching to choke on the throats of the imaginary men.
“I've been to afterparties.” She folded her legs, tip of her boot almost brushing my knee. I felt the kiss of air like it was a strike. “I was following and helping Barbed Fire, remember? On the first leg of this tour, we actually were at this girl's house. It was insane.”
Colt's chuckle was patronizing. “Right right. Like Porter said, wait till you experience a real afterparty.”
Her delicious mouth became an electric eel. “Fuck you, the parties I went to were great.”
“But you weren't famous then.” Colt folded his arms behind his head, leaning on a window near us. “After tomorrow, you will be. Then you'll see.”
Then she'll see. Looking up, I spotted Brenda on her phone. She had her back to us, standing near the front of the bus. Ordering us some food. Good. The longer I sat near Lola, not feeling her or causing her to blush, the more I needed to put something else between my gnashing teeth.
I worried I'd grind my molars down before the tour was done.
Chapter Two.
Lola
The pizza fueled me enough for the next four hours of practice. That was good, I needed something in my stomach. It kept doing flips and pretzels the closer we got to the concert location.
I was relieved that I'd been able to make my hands listen to me as we played. Something had happened that morning, though what it was...
It was like Drezden hid himself behind a curtain. He still sounded the same, it was just the fuel in his emerald eyes had burned out. Whatever the change, not being on the end of his assassin style demeanor let me play to my fullest.
I had to admit, we sounded fucking great.
Porter and Colt left, arguing over who was taking a shower first. It was only Drezden and I in the room.
Tying my hair back off of my sweating neck, I sighed. “Starting to get a muscle cramp.” Rubbing at the gap between neck and shoulder, I winced.
A shadow fell over me. I felt it was him before I even looked up. “Is it bad?”
I couldn't get saliva on my lips. The inside of my throat was made from sand and ash. “Um, it's kind of—” Remember what he keeps chiding you over, acting tough and shit. Just tell him! “—super tight, yeah.”
Drezden settled next to me on the bench, straddling it as he faced me. One spin from his hand told me what he wanted. “Let me massage it out. You'll be stiff and useless for the show tomorrow if I don't.”
Is he right about that? I hadn't practiced so much in one go in a long time. My brain burned with memories of gristle-tough muscles the day after so much effort. Swallowing, still wishing for some liquid, I turned around. Flipping one leg over the bench, I gripped it between my thighs. “Fine, if you think it's necessary.”
He was a wall of heat on my back. A volcanic explosion I couldn't run away from. Frozen in place, I braced myself for the first touch of his hands. Palms came down, clasping not just one, but both sides of my neck. Drezden was firm precision, rolling fingers over the knots I didn't even know I had.
The tension in me went beyond just my shoulders and neck. Lowering my chin, I hid behind the curtain of my hair. He couldn’t see my face from where he was, I wanted any bit of protection I could find. The last time Drez had touched me, things had gotten crazy.
Far too crazy.
A shiver jolted down my spine as he rolled a thumb along my jugular. “You're tight as a spring,” he murmured. I knew he was close. I wasn't prepared for his breath to tickle on the shell of my ear. Hot pin pricks danced everywhere, every hair demanding it stand straight.
Holy shit. He's like a beacon of living sex. Trembling harder, I dug my nails into the tops of my thighs. His ministrations were amazing, which made it even scarier. Drezden knew how to touch me. He rubbed away the soreness from playing, all the while leaving a new tension in its place.
Soon, my head hung low, body rocking gently with his motions. The pressure in my chest threatened to explode my lungs. Steel touched my shoulder blades; his chest as he leaned closer. That was too much on its own. When the firm, hot bulge of his erection bumped my lower back, I was done.
Squeaking, I jumped off the bench. I thought he'd try to stop me, but he made no such effort. Breathing heavily, I stared at the singer with disbelief. The fervor in his eyes, the passion he'd been restraining while singing, was back. “What are you doing?” I hated how breathy and hoarse my voice sounded.
“Massaging you,” he said softly. The way he shrugged pissed me off. He wasn't just massaging me, he knew that. I thought about what my brother had said to me that morning. Don't be afraid of Drezden Halifax. He's the kind of guy you should try to get closer to. He can take you places, tell you things, teach you things.
A guy like him has a poet's heart. It's why he's so good at what he does.
You should go ahead and try to steal some of that.
Blushing furiously, I looked away. “You were doing more than that. Way more.”
The bench moaned, abandoned by Drezden's weight. His long legs carried him to me in a blink. Impossibly, his scent filled my nostrils all over again. “I don't know what you mean.”
How could my heart handle this? The blood in m
y body was certainly magma by now. Lifting my eyes, I tried to stare at just his chin. Maybe then I could concentrate. No, now all I see are his lips. His fucking smirking lips. I spoke to them anyway. “You're going too far around me. I'm not a fucking idiot. I don't know what your game is, but...”
There was no way to prepare for his hands on me. They gripped my upper arms, pushed me into the wall and left me stunned. “I don't know my game, either,” he whispered. “I only know the prize.”
The prize the prize the fucking prize.
I was the prize.
My vision was constrained on his face. The hard edges of his teeth, the part of his smile that wanted to cut me open. Drezden had made his goal so overtly clear, it left me wondering why I'd thought to ask. He was a man with no fear. Nothing held him back.
And he wanted to have me.
“Wait.” My single word was fragile. I tried again, bolder. “Hold on, I'm not your prize.”
“No,” he agreed. Strong fingers slid down the insides of my arms, taking my strength as they crawled. “Not yet.”
I couldn't handle this. There were many things I considered myself; smart, capable.
Strong.
No one had ever walked into my world and toppled it so easily. Why was Drezden so good at it? What made him invade my mind and body with quick-silver speed? Cotton swaddled my brain. My tongue was useless, it held no arguments.
I found myself on the verge of collapsing, or running, or slipping away mentally. It felt like I'd been cornered by a rabid tiger. He was a fucking man-eater, and had said himself he wanted me. Didn't he realize I wasn't able to cope with that?
Maybe I wasn't as tough as I thought. Maybe my act was backfiring. He thinks I'm tough enough to take him on. He's wrong, doesn't he know he'll destroy me? Drezden Halifax was an artist, a passionate being full of fire and acid and pure stars. He was a star. A fucking poet, as Sean had said.
And I was no one.
More than that... I'm a fucking virgin. Rockstars aren't virgins. Holy shit, he'll leave me in pieces. We're on entirely different levels. Different worlds!
I'd fade away, broken, if he tried to consume me.
He bent down, all lips and smokey smirks. Before I thought about it, I kicked out. My knee landed solidly in his stomach, thudding on his sculpted abs. Grunting, he let me go, looking at me incredulously. “What the fuck was that for?” he growled.
I felt... really stupid. “You were—the look in your eyes, I just...”
“Just say no next time! Or stop! Fuck, Christ.” Rubbing his belly, he looked me up and down. And, with just a sideways sneer, my world tumbled again. I hadn't injured him, he wasn't even upset. “You really don't want me near you, do you?”
Guilt dug in with sharp fangs. “No! It's not—” Stop, stop talking! “This just isn't a good idea, for either of us.”
“Why isn't it a good idea for me?”
My lips parted, hesitating. I didn't know why it was bad for him at all. “Fine. I'm being selfish, okay? This is a bad idea for me, for my career.” His grimace was brief, but I saw it. “If it goes bad between us... the band might not recover.” I'm the newest, if it gets weird they'll cast me aside and get a new member. I need this too much. Sean's face, his tone, commanding me to realize what an opportunity this was... he filled my head until my skull twinged. My brother knew what how important this was. He'd encouraged me for a reason.
I couldn't bare letting him down when things inevitably went sideways.
Drezden filled my world again. He slid up, chest brushing mine with his nearness. I gasped, then clenched my jaw. His hands glided down to hold my hips in a vice. “So you have thought about us.”
“No!” Yes. “Never!” Since I listened to you sing during practice.
No. Even beyond that.
I'd had a crush on Drezden Halifax since the first time I'd played his CD. He'd kept me company before he knew my name or my face.
Now, that very man was so close I could rub my nose on his if I just bent forward. “Tell me, Lola.” He sighed, touch claiming my waist, pulling up the shirt I still wore from the photo shoot. “Why are you fighting this? I could tell last night in the tub, you wanted me.”
Images of his hard body holding me down in the porcelain bed flooded me. “I just told you!” My voice was rising, gaining volume with my confused energy. “I don't want to fuck up the band!”
“I thought you were tough.” He didn't shout over me. He didn't need to. The texture in his throat was raw and wet and begged me to hear him say anything. I was addicted to his voice. “You think I'm not worried about the band?” He tugged me, jammed me back on the wall so that my bones vibrated. “You think I don't care? Lola, it's not about that! It's about being willing enough, strong enough, to take a god damn risk!”
I'd lost the ability to move. Barely standing, his hands were all that kept me on my feet. Take a risk? I knew what it meant to take risks. Sean accused me of not being ready for this band. He goaded me into going to the audition, made me see I was going to miss an opportunity otherwise.
But this wasn't the same thing.
Was it?
There was noise in the hallway. Drezden released me, backing up and heading for his microphone. I stayed against the wall, looking terrified on the outside. If my mind could be pulled out, put on display, it would have looked worse.
Colt tipped back a cup, the sound of Porter's grumbling following him into the room. “I don't care if it was the last of the coffee,” the drummer said. “You had three fucking cups, I deserve one—” He halted, spotting me where I stood.
Oh, shit.
Licking my lips slowly, I searched for the ability to speak. I had to look conspicuous with my wild eyes, red cheeks and heavy breathing. Firm nipples made summits through my shirt.
“Lola,” he said carefully, “you alright?”
I didn't answer in time. Porter bumped into the drummer, the two stumbling as coffee splashed. “Dammit, Colt! Why would you stand right behind the curtain?”
“Why would you walk into me!” he shouted, wiping at his shirt.
In the fray, I pushed off the wall. I hoped no one touched it; the surface had to feel like lava from my body heat. Threading around the edge of the room, I burst through the curtain and escaped before anyone dared stop me.
I knew only one set of eyes was on my back as I left the room. Drezden's green depths marked me like they were cutting a tattoo into my shoulders.
I need air, I just need air. In the aisle, I was alone. Brenda had joined up with her own bus, where the crew who kept things moving stayed, after we'd picked up the pizza. The driver had slid a flimsy sheet over the nose of the bus, giving himself some privacy as he played a soft murmur from the radio.
Taking a seat far from the back, I cracked one of the tinted windows. Crisp air poured in, stinging my face wonderfully. The world outside flew by like a painting on rails. Mountains, cerulean skies and clouds so thick you could have held them.
That was when I realized where we were.
We'd crossed into Colorado. That means we'll be arriving at the venue by... I dug my phone out, looking at the time. Was it really already six in the evening? Tomorrow morning. I can't believe it. Everything with Drezden was fading in the wake of my reality.
Soon, I was going to see the place I'd be playing my first show. My first very real, very actual show. Holding my phone close, I started to type a message to Sean. He's the only person I can talk to about this. He'd understand the elation and sickness boring deep into my flesh.
'Hey,' I typed to him. 'We'll be arriving soon. I might piss myself.'
Pressing the button to send it, I waited impatiently. My heart beat once, twice, then fifteen times before the device buzzed. Sean's words displayed themselves on my blinking screen.
'Get used to that feeling.'
Smiling helplessly, I tucked my phone away. I liked to think he was right. I was sure I wanted him to be. Could this really be happening? Me, Lola Coop
er, going to play on stage for thousands of people.
Drezden's face entered my head. It was in my heart, too; that smile and how pained he'd sounded when we'd talked. He wants me to take a risk. But...
Not every risk can be worth it.
Watching the beautiful landscape roll by outside wasn't enough to brush away the burst of guilt in me. Drezden had done something, grown something inside of me. A piece that throbbed and cried and begged for him. A piece that wanted me to take the fucking risk he asked me to.
My hand traced the shape of my phone.
How could he ask me to risk everything, when I wasn't ready to lose it all?
Chapter Three.
Drezden
The sky outside was pale blue, but I'd been awake since it had started to crack like an egg with lines of yolk-orange. Sleeping was even harder this go around. Lola plagued what bits of dreams I scooped up. Always, she dangled out of my reach. I'd grab for her, then wake up in a sweaty mess.
When dawn had come, I'd given up trying.
We'd driven through the night. Dressed for the day in broken-in jeans and a long sleeved white sweater, I settled onto a bus seat and just... watched. Denver trickled by in all its glory.
I'd never played in Colorado before.
Once, when I was younger, I saw the Wingless Harpies play at the Fillmore. I'd gone with my father, back when he'd been drinking himself to death, but before he'd started using me as a target for his impotent rage.
I cupped my lower back, phantom pain burning.
Now I'm here, playing on stage. It should have filled me with pride. Instead, I just had a twinge of anxiety. I wouldn't allow myself to feel happy with anything until the show went without a hitch. Then I could allow myself some credit.
Everything has to go perfectly. I peered at Lola when she pushed through the curtain across the bus. If it goes as well as I wish, she'll have everything she could want.
And I'll start to lose her even quicker.
She saw me, froze up like I was a ghost. Rubbing the corner of my nose, I turned away. It was a mistake to let Lola into the band. No, I admonished myself. She's perfect for the band. She's what we need. It just meant that letting her blossom would send her away like dandelion puffs on the wind.
