“I saw this and thought you’d like it.”
It read I <3 Intercourse.
“Stay in my bed tonight.” He had caged her in the tiny kitchen when the bus was empty. Even after their hot and heavy sessions pressed up against the wall in New Orleans, Amy had insisted they sleep in separate beds.
“Nice try. I’m staying upright with you.”
Sarah came barreling around the corner, loudly disagreeing with whoever was on the other end of the phone. Amy jumped away from Ronan like he was an open flame.
Sarah shot her a look.
“You can talk to the head of security about it.” She waved the phone at Amy. “The venue in Trenton.” She dropped her voice. “All of a sudden, the venue has an issue with some of the security protocols we have in place.” She raised her eyebrows as if to say, Go figure.
Amy gave a gimme motion. She picked up the phone to discuss logistics. She stepped even further away from Ronan to figure out the problem.
Once she hung up the phone, she replayed the moment where Sarah had come around the corner. They had almost gotten caught. That wasn’t something she wanted to happen anytime soon.
She thought back to how excited her mom and her sister were when she first started dating Brian. It was charming. At first. They had flirtatiously batted their eyelashes whenever she brought him up or mentioned staying at his place. It wasn’t long before she started hearing, “So, when are you moving in together?” or “Your cousin just got engaged! I told her you’d be next.”
She tried to imagine bringing Ronan around.
Hi Mom, this is Ronan, casual rockstar and also my… her brain stuttered. They weren’t dating.
With her and Brian, the Jenga tower of expectations kept growing, block by block. It had been a relief when she announced that she and Brian were traveling across the country together. Because that’s what couples did.
Even now, through all the heartbreak, Amy still thought about that. Would she have moved out to LA with Brian if she weren’t so eager to get away from prying eyes? Would she and Brian have made it as a couple if she weren’t constantly comparing their relationship to the checklist her mother put in front of her?
Amy wasn’t sure which answer scared her more: That they would’ve fallen apart anyway or that they wouldn’t have.
All she knew was that she didn’t want to repeat history. She wanted whatever was going on between her and Ronan to be theirs and theirs alone. No prying eyes, no second opinions.
Besides, she reminded herself, this wasn’t a long-term thing. She and Ronan were way too different.
Trenton turned out to be a nightmare. A sudden construction project had closed down one entrance, throwing a wrench in Amy’s plans. Even though the venue swore that they alerted fans to the construction ahead of the show, they showed up in droves, openly snarky about it. It was only 7:30 PM and Amy already felt ready to crawl into her bunk.
She watched as the lines to enter the stadium became bottlenecks. Despite the brisk air and settling darkness, sweat rolled down her back. The longer fans stood in line, the more of them shed their fleece jackets and rolled up their long-sleeve shirts. The yeasty smell of beer was soon swept away by a crisp breeze. Lights burned over the entire entrance, casting long shadows on the pavement.
Amy watched for any shoving that could light this powder keg into a stampede. Luckily, the stadium had brought in a few of their own people to wave metal detectors and search through people’s bags. Amy and Sarah were doing all they could to help, but it was slow going. And that delay could either cause fans to miss the opening act – never a good thing – or it could cause a delay in the start time.
Amy pressed the mic attached to her earpiece. “Alright, I’m calling it. We’re going to need to hold for five.”
Sarah’s voice jumped in. “Another group of people are coming up.”
“I thought we already got most of the stadium in here!” She kept her voice quiet, but some of her frustration slipped out regardless.
Sarah stood across the crowd, the metal detectors and turnstiles separating them. Although Amy couldn’t see her friend’s exhaustion, her voice was full of it. “Guess not.” She hummed. “And this looks like a rowdy bunch.”
“Fine. Hold for ten.”
A familiar buzz came from her pocket. Amy usually had a rule: No phones out. The security team worked on the mics. Anything else was a distraction. The no phones rule was under normal circumstances, when all the entrances were open and when the venue gave her more than 24-hours notice.
Amy pulled it out, catching the notification on the screen. 1 new text message. Maybe the venue’s general manager was getting in touch? When she opened her phone’s screen, she tried not to smile. Ronan.
Another buzz came through before she could read it. The notification looked innocuous enough. It was a simple Reply email from one of the many events@ email addresses Amy had been reaching out to while on the road. Was this one for Bar Sinister? Or maybe one of the newer clubs in West Hollywood?
A crash of tables snapped her attention up. She stuffed her phone in her pocket. She would deal with both of those things later. First, she had to make it through the next hour without losing her mind.
Finally, the scream from the guitar filled the space. Amy watched as the fans with floor seats stood on their chairs or jumped in time with the drumbeat. She was sweaty from the crush of people and bone tired from having to explain the security protocol to every large group that came through. But watching Ronan take center stage, his hair tousled and him biting his lip in concentration, she wondered if maybe it had all been worth it.
Now that the crowd was focused on him, she could finally check her phone to see what he sent her.
Stay with me tonight
It wasn’t a question. Amy’s stomach swooped and her skin heated. They had been making due with stolen moments in his dressing room or tucked away in hidden corners, but it wasn’t enough. Amy’s hands itched to explore every plane of his chest. Her lips wanted to see if the dip in his hip was sensitive. Sneaking into Ronan’s room like an eighteen-year-old promised steamier sessions than the one they had in St. Louis.
But the prospect of having her team catch her left her feeling queasy. She was an adult woman, entitled to sleep with whomever she wanted. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling she had since she was a kid, of her mother and sister primly waiting for her to make the right decision. The right decision, of course, being the one they thought was best. Would her team have the same reaction?
Her email pinged again, dropping another notification onto her screen. She tapped over. The email from before still sat, bolded and unread, in her inbox. Only then did she see the full email address: [email protected].
A shock of hope ricocheted through her. She tapped on the email. It was more than the perfunctory two or three lines many other places had responded with.
She sucked in a breath and shook her head. The music now made her feel like she was underwater. She started from the top of the email.
Ms. Sinclair,
Thanks for reaching out. The Hollywood Bowl will be expanding its event lineup for the next two seasons (and likely more, in the future). We do live music events like concerts, as well as more relaxed events like Under the Stars movie nights in the summer, and even have the honor of welcoming the Philharmonic.
Since we are already planning on expanding our lineup, your email is well-timed. I would be very interested to talk more with you about your vision for how you could help the Hollywood Bowl keep its community safe and ensure patrons enjoy themselves.
Please let me know when you’re available for an in-person meeting.
Sincerely,
Lana Dyson
VP Events, Hollywood Bowl
Holy shit. She pumped her fist in the air.
The Hollywood Bowl was interested! Amy’s limbs felt like livewires. She snuck a glance both ways to make sure no guests were around before prancing up and down in a happy d
ance. Her plan was working!
She stood taller, took a deep breath, and forced herself to focus. She needed to make a plan for when to talk with the head of events. One of Ronan’s tour posters was plastered on the concrete pillar next to her. It trumpeted the remaining tour date like a beacon:
Boston, MA
Which meant she would be back among the palm trees and Cali ocean air within a week. She tapped out a quick response.
Lana,
Thanks for the quick reply. I’m returning from a tour next week. I’ll be available to meet Weds or Thursday. Please let me know what time is best.
Best,
Amy
Baby steps, she reminded herself. She still had to hear Lana’s proposal before she would be ready to sign on the dotted line. But the goal she had been working toward for all these months was now within sight, if not within reach.
She x’ed out of her email app, only to find Ronan’s text message still up, still unanswered.
Oh shit. Ronan.
Like breaking from underwater, the sound of his guitar and the screaming fans suddenly came back at top volume. She read his text message again.
Stay with me tonight.
She ached to have him curl around her for uninterrupted hours. She could also feel the whir of anxiety as her brain plotted out what would happen next, filling in the cells of a spreadsheet.
She had no idea if he would stay in LA after the tour was done. She had no idea if she would want him to. She had worked with other artists and knew the intense expectations labels put on them. If they weren’t on tour across the country, they were in the studio for fifteen hours a day mixing a new album. Or they were headed internationally.
She knew what her mom would say. She would furrow her eyebrows and purse her lips, as if trying to hold back a thought. But it would ultimately break through the lipstick seal.
Oh honey, don’t you want to be with him? Jobs are easy to find.
Easy to say when her mom had worked at the same job for most of her marriage. I’m not my mom.
A smaller, darker voice crept in behind that one.
What’s wrong with you? Why is it so hard to make a decision? You know what you want… don’t you?
She shook her head to rattle the voice loose. Jobs like this weren’t easy to find. Especially not jobs at the Hollywood Bowl. This was the type of job that could launch her career. She wasn’t willing to put that on hold to be with him. And if he asked her to…. She would kick his ass to the curb without a second thought.
She peeked down into the center of the concert. Ronan stood center stage, his hands wrapped around the mic, curling himself closer to it. Her skin still ached to be touched by him. She looked up at the tour poster again. A week. She had a week to get her fill of Ronan before real life stepped in again. She planned to take it with both hands.
After they broke the set down, everyone eagerly piled into the van. Beer eased their sore muscles as they grumbled about overeager fans. As they drove over, Amy felt the echo of Ronan’s text message. She felt his eyes on her as she clambered into the van. Sarah plopped down next to her; Amy swore Ronan pouted over it.
Sarah booked a restaurant with a private room so they wouldn’t get mobbed by passersby. The bar was like many of the ones they had seen all over the country: dark and classic, with plenty of cheap drinks and comfort food. A few TV’s showing different sports games played over the bar, the volume turned low. All of them filed into the back room. No TVs here. Only a long table, plenty of chairs, and a dart board in the back corner.
Amy pointedly sat down next to Ronan. He raised his eyebrows.
“Fancy seeing you here.” His eyes flicked over to the rest of the group. They were loudly taking off their coats, flipping over plastic menus and walking up to the bar to order. “You didn’t respond to my text.”
Amy primly took a sip of water. She tried to keep her smile hidden.
“You’re bossy.” She dropped her gaze to his mouth. “Leave your door unlocked. I’ll sneak in after everyone crashes.”
His eyes flashed with heat. Before he could respond, Sarah and two of the sound guys came back, their hands full of beer and nachos. Amy snuck her foot under the table, pressing it against Ronan’s. He startled – a quick tensing of his shoulders. Then he looked down to see the line of Amy’s leg. He slipped hand under the table and rested it on her thigh.
The heat from his hand burned through the denim. She wanted to pull his hand further down. Instead, he kept it there, lazily drawing circles with his thumb. Her skin screamed for more friction, more contact – just more.
The conversation blurred together. Amy could only focus on Ronan’s hand. Her mind filled with all the things that hand could do to her. Anticipation curled around her legs like ivy. Ronan pulled nachos from a communal plate, locking eyes with her as he sucked salsa off his thumb.
It shouldn’t be sexy, Amy thought to herself. But the flare of heat low in her belly said otherwise.
“Hey, rock star,” she blurted. “Let’s play darts.”
She ditched her leather jacket, revealing a fitted black shirt underneath. When she took aim with one of the darts, she pushed her chest out. Ronan’s gaze felt like the warmth from a fire. The first dart landed with a satisfying smack near the bullseye. She leaned back towards the table to take a sip of water, arching her back as she did.
He came close to her, growling in her ear.
“What are you doing to me?”
“Just getting even.” She flashed a smile.
By the time the team was yawning and making noises about going back to the bus, Amy felt ready to explode. Her skin hummed and every sensation against it felt heightened. Judging by the high color on Ronan’s cheeks, he felt the same.
The cold air slapped Amy in the face as they stepped out of the bar. Only a few more days and she would be back in seventy-degree weather. She watched Ronan, only a few steps in front of her.. For once, she didn’t want to plan or think about the future. She just wanted this.
She crawled into the back row of the van – only to have Ronan immediately come in next to her. Now she could feel him all along her arm and her leg. After the cold from the outside and the chilly inside of the van, his heat radiated against her body and she felt like a moth drawn to a flame. She found her focus drawn to the sound of his breath and pressure of his body against her. The lights in the van stayed off as it roared to life.
She heard the rustle of fabric and felt the jerky motion of him taking his jacket off.
“I just need to get this off.” He dragged his hand up and down her thigh.
Inside, surrounded by bright lights and chatter, his touch tempted her. But here, in the dark, it positively made her ache. It felt private and sensual. He curled his hand around the inside of her thigh, barely brushing between her legs only to draw his hand away. Amy exhaled forcefully. Bastard had the audacity to laugh under his breath.
The blue light from the crew’s cellphones lit up the inside of the van. But Amy kept her phone tucked inside her jacket. She moved her hand under Ronan’s coat and threaded her fingers with his. They would be back to the bus soon.
As the streetlights outside moved past, Amy allowed herself to forget that this thing between them had an expiration date. She merely existed in the moment, and indulged in the happiness of being near him.
“I have an idea,” Ronan whispered into her neck the next morning.
“Oh, do you?” She hummed, snuggling deeper into his embrace. His dark red sheets smelled of sex and sweat.
She turned to face him. Even after a night of jumping around on stage and hours spent wringing pleasure from Amy, he looked good. His stubble had turned into a full five-‘o’-clock shadow and his lips were full after a night of kissing her.
“After the show tonight…” He spoke with confidence, but his eyes were cautiously hopeful. I thought you and I could go do something.”
“What, like outside?” Amy’s brain stuttered.
&
nbsp; “Brighton Music Hall is throwing a show tonight.”
“So you want to hang out at another rock concert?” She wrinkled her nose and poked him in the ribs.
Part of her was relieved. She didn’t know how she felt about her and Ronan being out in public together. She didn’t want to let in all the questions and doubts that waited just outside the bedroom door.
“One where I wouldn’t be playing.” He playfully pinned her. “And where you wouldn’t have to keep track of a rock star.” At her skeptical glance, he added, “It’s an up-and-coming group. The tweens won’t even know who I am.”
“Another baseball cap and sweatshirt?”
“Yeah, something like that.” He leaned down to kiss her.
A real date with just the two of us? Amy buried her hands deeper in her leather jacket’s pockets. This is the first time in ages I’ve been to a show where I wasn’t babysitting the headliner.
She was tucked underneath the huge awning of the Brighton Music Hall. Its façade reminded her of an old movie house, with large plastic letters spelling out the night’s act. The city had clearly grown around it; a Goodwill and a fast-casual pizza place boxed it in. The concrete outside had been painted pitch black, offering any passerby an inviting look inside.
She stomped her feet on the sidewalk to warm them up. The bite of winter sliced through her clothes–unlike in LA, where the thermostat read a balmy 68 degrees. A small group of young women, all decked out in college sweatshirts and yoga pants, walked past. One of the girls glanced over as she talked and stuttered for a moment. She did a small double take at Ronan, who was leaning against the wall like a modern James Dean. Amy just smiled at her.
The rock star in question had one foot pressed against the venue’s concrete exterior, his arms casually crossed. With his sweatshirt and dark jeans, he looked… normal.
The above-ground train screeched past them; the kids all were focused on their phones, seemingly used to the noise. Amy wondered what it would’ve been like meeting Ronan on the subway. Or standing in line at a concert. True, she would’ve skipped his snarky attitude and cocky smirk – but she also would’ve missed out on his electric charm and crowd-pleasing skill.
Till There Was You: Rock Star Enemies To Lovers Romance Page 7
