by Michelle Lee
I sing, my eyes now fully open, and strum the last few notes, finishing with “Happy Birthday, Dash.” Candles flicker in the room as the last chord I play echoes in the otherwise quiet room. Dash stands there saying nothing, just staring at me, into me.
I swallow my nerves down. “Are you surprised?”
He nods.
“Do you like your present?”
He nods again.
“Well, this is just one of your presents,” I tell him, tapping the guitar, my voice just above a whisper.
He nods.
“Do you want to know what your other present is?”
He simply nods.
My hand reaches up to my hair, and I gently tug on the red ribbon bow that is wrapped in it, sliding out from underneath. I drop it to the floor.
“Me.”
I place the guitar aside, letting Dash get the full view of my naked body. His hungry eyes rake over my body, noticing another red ribbon tied firmly around my breasts.
“Well, are you going to finish unwrapping me, or is your present going to go to waste?”
Dash doesn’t say a word. His heated gaze causes me to shiver.
“Dash?”
His eyes flash to mine. I wiggle my finger, beckoning him to take what’s his. As if my finger was the answer to everything, Dash’s body instantly covers mine. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him toward me. Closer.
“Well, are you going to finish unwrapping your present, Ford? I’m all yours.”
“I must have died and gone to fucking birthday heaven.” Dash’s hands and mouth are all over me as I make good use of mine and take off his clothes. I’m really going to enjoy Dash’s birthday present, probably as much as he is. Happy very early birthday to me too.
HOME. THE WORD used to bring such comfort to me. Now it’s nothing but pain and heartache. Today, I’m flying back to Seattle. Without Dash, it won’t feel like home. Dash is home.
After he unwrapped his birthday present and spent hours and hours on end making love to me over and over, we left Rome and drove to Florence. I thought Rome was beautiful, but Florence is breathtaking. I had seen the Duomo in pictures, but seeing it live and in person is just astounding. Its architecture, the way it dominates Florence’s skyline, the red, clay-like color of its octagonal dome against its cream and patina walls cries old-world Mediterranean of days lost. I could easily get lost in Florence’s beauty if it weren’t for the fact that I was going home and leaving behind this new world I was slowly embracing as my own.
The fangirls have backed off considerably. Actually, they just ignore me if I’m anywhere near Dash. It’s almost as if I don’t exist. I guess this is the outcome Val and Dash had expected after the press conference. It’s better than how I was treated before, but again it’s like I don’t exist and I can’t wrap my brain around it, which is worse.
Dash has reassured me time and time again that I am his everything, and I believe him. I want to fully believe him with my heart, mind, body, and soul. It’s just that every once in a while I see how the fans interact with him, how his face lights up even when he doesn’t realize it, and I can’t help but wonder—will I ever be enough? What do I have that could possibly hold him forever? Do we even have a forever? And today this weighs heavy in my mind because I am leaving; putting what seems like endless miles between us. I know he’ll be back in Seattle in a couple of months, but what happens in those months is a complete mystery. And I don’t know—no, I do know—that my heart won’t be able to take it if the mystery gets solved and I am left with absolutely nothing. Losing everything; losing Dash.
And then there’s the situation with Blake. I haven’t heard anything from him since I got the necklace. Russell has asked if I’ve heard from him, and I told him no. He seems to think, from what I’ve told him, that Blake likes to play this game and wants to unnerve me. He doesn’t think he wants to really hurt me. But he doesn’t want to take that chance. So, without Dash knowing, Russell has called in a few favors to have someone look out for me when I get back home. I would be worried about the Blake thing, but I’m not. I don’t have any room in my head for it at the moment—all I can think of is Dash. This is going to feel worse than when he left the first time. I just know it. I push these unsettling thoughts out of my mind, locking them up in a heavily guarded chest encased in cement, wrapped in heavy chains and padlocks, submerged in the recesses of my mind, hopefully to never see the light of day again.
My bags are already packed and I sit, alone, in my hotel room waiting for Dash to finish up a last-minute fan meet and greet. Tonight they perform, and Roland set up the meet and greet earlier than usual. I can’t help but wonder if Roland had ulterior motives. The guys have been completely worn out performing and then meeting fans afterward. Val suggested that they hold the meet and greets earlier in the day, even before rehearsals, and they all agreed that was best.
So, I wait. I keep checking my watch as I begin to wear a path in the rug of his room. Dash had me check out of my room a few days ago. He didn’t see the point of me having my room since I was going to be in his room all the time, when we weren’t out and about. I am going absolutely stir crazy and in desperate need of a distraction. Dash could be another hour at the very least.
I grab my purse and decide maybe one last stroll through Florence will be just the thing to keep my mind off of waiting. I enter the elevator alone and notice myself reflected in the paneling. My eyes take in the beautiful, happy woman before them, and I can’t believe that it is me. They say you glow when you’re in love, and they were right. I am actually glowing, radiating, and it’s all because of the rock star that is in my life. I can’t help smiling at myself thinking of him.
The doors push open, and I begin to make my way through the lobby. Of course it is peppered with fans here and there, and I thankfully go unnoticed. Now that they think I’m nobody in Dash’s life, just a passing thing, they pretty much ignore me. Not that I’m complaining. But the reason they ignore me now somewhat bothers me. I know I said I understood why Roland told him to ignore Val’s advice, but it still hurts.
Lost in my thoughts, I smack right into someone and nearly tumble to the floor. “I am so sorry, excuse me, I wasn’t really paying…” I begin when my eyes meet deep, dark chestnut.
“Hey, Jules, don’t worry, you didn’t do too much damage,” Alex teases.
Alex is part of the security team. I’ve seen him around Vic and Lance throughout our stay in Rome. And he helped me out of the car when we got back to the hotel after the conference that shall not be named. He hasn’t said too much to me and since I’m always with Russell, I haven’t gotten a chance to really talk to him. He was really nice that first night I met Dash, telling me to find him if I needed help. Roland has tried a few times while being here to get Alex to stay with me, but Dash has thwarted his attempt each time, saying he only trusts Russell with my complete safety. I have noticed Alex talking a lot to Roland and spending time with Nadia when the evil witch is around. And when I notice him, he notices me and smiles this weird smile at me. Alex lately has been giving me a weird vibe. I chalked it up to the emotions I’ve experienced during this time with Dash and the band. But now… now I’m not so sure, because the way he’s looking at me is making my skin crawl. But I can’t back away from him. If Alex is here and not with the guys, does that mean they are on their way back? The butterflies take over my stomach in anticipation of the possibility.
“Alex, again—sorry. Um, you’re back… does that mean…?” I question, trying desperately to not get my hopes up.
“Nope, sorry. I just came back to make sure things were secure here. The fans here are a little crazier than expected. One girl, she was wearing practically… never mind. The guys will be back shortly, though,” he answers.
I can’t help but feel deflated. Yep, those hopes did get up, even though I tried to keep them tethered down. “Oh, okay, thanks,” I respond as I begin to push past him.
“Hey, Jules, you got
a minute?” Alex inquires, his hand grabbing my wrist.
“Um, sure. What’s up?” I reply, shaking him loose.
“I just wanted to ask you something.” Alex’s hand runs nervously through his hair.
“Okay, sure.” I can’t imagine what he would want to talk about; again, he hasn’t really said more to me than hi during my entire time here.
Alex guides me over to a set of unoccupied couches off in the far corner of the lobby and gestures for me to sit. A knot begins to form in my stomach, slowing getting tighter. He takes a seat next to me; his expression shows nothing but concern. “I just wanted to know if you were okay. I mean, I know what was said at the press conference about Ford not really dating you. That really had to hurt. I mean, to know that he can easily publicly deny you, which is so hard for me to comprehend, considering…” he trails off, not finishing his thought.
“Alex, it’s not really like that. Dash, he… Roland thought it was best if he didn’t go public with our relationship. At least not until their fan base is spoken for,” I explain.
“Really? Sounds like a load of B.S. if you ask me,” he replies.
“It doesn’t really bother me. I understand why it had to be done,” I offer. I don’t need to tell him how I really felt. Something is telling me to keep my answers simple with him and not to give too many details. Seeing him around Roland and Nadia lately has left an unsettling feeling in me.
“Well, I still think it was shitty. And, well, if you were my girlfriend, Jules, there would be no way in hell I would ever, ever deny that you were mine. If you ask me, Ford is a fucking coward for agreeing to it. He should have manned up and had the balls to put a stop to it. But, I guess that’s just how he is, how he’s always been.”
I can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable as I continue to process what Alex is saying. Part of me thinks he’s just full of hot air, and wonder where this is coming from. I haven’t given him a reason to say things like this or to feel this way. He just upped the creep factor a notch or two or a hundred. “Alex, it’s not like…” I begin.
“Whatever, Jules. I can see you’re hurting. and it’s all because of him. I’ve watched you since you got here. I’ve seen the look on your face and in your eyes. I see how you react when Nadia is around or any of the hundreds of adoring fans. I see it all. I just wish you could see that, and if you did, you would see what is really going on before someone gets hurt. And by someone I don’t mean Ford, I mean you. Jules, you deserve more, so much more. You deserve someone that isn’t going to say you’re ‘just friends’ and will yell from the rooftops that he’s with you and can’t imagine being with anyone else. You’re an incredible woman, Jules, and Ford is a dick for going along with Roland. I don’t care if it’s to benefit the band. There are some things that are more important than work, fame, or money. You are definitely more important. I wish you could just see that there are other options out there. Options that would worship you, care for you, and treat you like you deserve to be treated. Not hide you, not deny you. You deserve to be the center of attention; you deserve more than Ford can give you. Jules, you deserve someone… someone like me.”
What the hell? Where is this coming from? I had no idea that he felt that way, and why would he? I’ve barely said more than a few words to him. He’s been watching me? Before I can respond, Alex’s lips are hovering over mine. I try to pull back in time, but his lips graze mine before I can. His lips are soft and tender, and he gently kisses me. I push against his chest, but my movement doesn’t register to him as he continues to kiss me. I let my lips go limp and deny him access to my mouth, to my tongue, when I feel his tongue sweep out against the seam of my lips. He’s kissing me, but I refuse to kiss him back, hoping he gets the hint.
“Jules, just give me a chance,” he adds as he slowly pulls away.
I feel like I’m left in a daze. My head is swimming. I can’t comprehend what just happened and what is happening. I suddenly feel ashamed; I feel like I just betrayed Dash, even though I wasn’t the one to initiate the kiss and tried to stop him. I should react strongly, slap him, scream at him, but all I can do is stare into his dark, smoldering eyes. There is so much concern and feeling in them. I am left completely speechless, and I begin to feel the pricking of tears form behind my eyes.
“Alex… I… you shouldn’t have. I love Dash. He’s everything to me. You just don’t…” I stammer.
“I just don’t know him like you do, right? Well, Jules, I’ve known him longer than you, and just let me say you don’t know him like I do. Ford doesn’t deserve you. You and I could be so good together. I wouldn’t, I couldn’t deny that you were my girlfriend. I would wear it like a badge of honor. Jules, think about it. If you didn’t feel anything for me, at all, you wouldn’t have let me kiss you.” Alex smirks and raises his eyebrow.
“I let you kiss me, you asshole. I pushed against your chest trying to get away from you. You may have kissed me, but I didn’t kiss you back.” Anger rips through me. I should slap him even though it’s after the fact and as if my hand heard my inner thinking, it reaches up and slaps him across the cheek. “And believe me, it will never, ever happen again. Now if you would please excuse me, I was about to take in a couple of sights before I have to leave.” I get up and start to walk away.
“Jules,” Alex calls to me.
I turn around to find him looking at me with a devilish, smug grin plastered on his face and his hand rubbing his cheek. “Don’t worry, I won’t say a word to Ford. It will be our little secret,” he says with a wink.
I can’t respond. My tongue is numb as well as the rest of me. All I can do is glare at him, turn away, and stomp through the lobby. I have a strange feeling he’s lying and Dash will hear about this. I hope he hears it from me first. And if he doesn’t, I just hope if he hears it from someone else, he doesn’t believe a word of it. I walk out the hotel’s entrance and the smell of Florence overcomes me, assaulting my senses. I inhale deeply, trying to erase Alex’s scent and kiss from my memory. I feel the weight of the situation cling to my shoulders as I make my way into the crowded streets of Florence.
I KEEP STARING at the numbers on his door. My body, mind, and soul know that Dash is just on the other side of the door, waiting for me. I hesitate. I want to knock, to let him know that I’m here, but I can’t will my hand to knock. I know once I knock and he answers, it’s good-bye, and I don’t want this to be good-bye. My plane leaves shortly, and Tracy is waiting downstairs with Lance. I reach deep down for the courage and willpower to knock. My hand reaches up, and ever so slightly my knuckles meet the steel of the door and gently knock. Before I can pull my hand away, the door swings open, and I am instantly staring into the deepest sapphire blue eyes I have ever seen. Blue eyes that have come to mean everything to me, blue eyes that feel like home. Blue eyes that belong to the one man who means everything to me. Blue eyes that hold so much emotion at the moment; they seem to glisten in the light of the hall. My heart tightens in my chest, knowing that this is it; it’s time.
“Jules,” his raspy voice breathes my name, sending a shiver all over my body, yet warming me at the same time.
“Hi,” my weak voice offers.
Not another word is spoken. Dash wraps his arms around me, pulling me into him. I feel his tight muscles against me, molding to my form. His lips seek mine, and they are tender, sweet, and warm. Our mouths continue to move in unison, speaking volumes what words can’t convey. I feel my heart cease in my chest, knowing without him, there is no reason for it to beat. Hot, salty tears well up in my eyes and I try my damnedest to keep them at bay, but they overtake me and spill out and trickle down to my mouth. Tasting salt, Dash pulls away.
“Please, don’t, Jules, I don’t think I can…” he starts, his voice shaky as a tear escapes him and streams down his face.
He rests his forehead against mine and lets out a long, exasperating breath. I feel my insides tighten and a strong sob threatens to wrench forward, consuming me. I try to sup
press it, but with the force of an earthquake, it rumbles and takes over my body. I fist his shirt and pull him to me, clinging onto Dash for dear life.
I can’t do this. I don’t have the strength to walk away from him and get on a plane, traveling thousands of miles away. I desperately grip him tighter. My body begins to violently shake. I try to control my limbs, and just when I think I have, the shaking continues. Then I realize it’s Dash; he’s shaking as well. My eyes finally take in the man I’m clinging to and tears have overpowered him, streaking his beautiful face with their salty lines. My hands instinctively let go of his shirt and gently reach for his cheek. Dash leans into my touch.
“Dash,” I choke out as my heart breaks into a million pieces.
Alex is so wrong about him, I think.
“Jules, I don’t know how. I mean, these past few weeks.” His quivering voice weakens me further.
My mouth immediately consumes his. Needing him, wanting him, I show him with my actions, rather than words, that everything is going to be okay. I need to be the strong one in this moment. If I don’t take that role, play that role, I fear both of us will spiral out of control and end up being puddles of heartache, longing, and goo on the floor. I push against him, my mouth never leaving his. I pour forth everything I’m feeling in this very second; the love I have for him, the longing I have for him, the wanting I have for him.
We slowly make our way over to the bedroom suite, the open doors welcoming the two of us with open arms. I sense the whereabouts of the bed and guide the two of us over to it. Dash stops after a few steps and begins to sit. My body covers his, and still our lips never disconnect. He needs and wants this too. Dash leans back, my body hovering over his. His hands reach around my waist and pull me closer to him. His agile fingers dip into the waistband of my jeans, drumming against my backside. He momentarily breaks away from me. “Jules, do we…”
