SPARKED: A Bad Boy Rockstar Romance (With bonus book, PERFECT)

by Stephanie Brother

“He didn’t do anything,” I say, and with those words, I start to cry again.

  Megan leads me over to the bed, sits next to me and waits patiently, letting me cry. After a few minutes, she says softly, “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, after wiping my nose with a tissue she hands me. “I mean, nothing’s going on. I thought something was, and then … nothing. Tonight I went out to watch the band. Just to torture myself.”

  “Wow, you went out to the bar alone? You must have it bad,” she says, with a gently mocking tone. Seeing my frown, she continues, “So let me guess. You and Aidan had sex and then he dropped you?”

  The fact that she’s ready to be angry on my behalf makes me feel a tiny bit better. “No, we didn’t have sex,” I say. “We did some stuff, but we didn’t even get that far.”

  “So what happened?” Megan asks again.

  I fill her in on the texting and the study date at Aidan’s house, without going into detail, and then tell her how he hasn’t been in contact, and how he acts like there’s nothing between us when I’ve seen him since then.

  “Maybe he’s just busy,” she says. “He’s in his senior year, right? I’m sure he has a lot going on — he’ll have senior projects and graduation stuff on top of his normal classes.”

  It’s nice of her to suggest some explanation, and I wish I could believe her, but Megan told me herself what a player Aidan is, on the very night I met him. She knows as well as I do that I had no right to expect any more from him. It’s foolish to be grieving over something that never was, but here I am.

  Deciding to change the subject, I say, “How was your night?”

  “It was fine, but Eric is acting weird.”

  “Yeah? How so?”

  Megan gets up and starts to put away some of the clothes on her bed. “I don’t know. We’ve always gotten along so well; we can talk about anything. He just seems different, like he’s distracted, or doesn’t want to be around.”

  “He always wants to be around you,” I say, laughing a little. Megan shoots me a look. “Maybe he’s just busy,” I say.

  “No, he’s not. He’s flying through all his classes. That’s not it. I asked him what was wrong, but he said nothing. There’s something, though; I just don’t know what it is.”

  With a shrug, she clips a hanger onto a skirt. “I’ll find out eventually, I guess. So what are you going to do about the tutoring?”

  “I can’t stop going,” I say. “Part of me wishes I could, but I need his help to make sure I pass chemistry. He’s a really good teacher.” It’s my turn to shrug. “I’ll just have to deal with it. The semester’s almost over, anyway.”

  I wish I felt as nonchalant as I sound.

  24

  Aidan

  My first tutoring student of the day is not getting my best. I'm distracted, wondering if Amber will show up.

  She didn’t text me to confirm our session today, and I know she has to be wondering what’s up with me. With us. Every time I saw her on campus this week and acted like she was no one special, I felt like a jerk.

  What can I do, though? It’s better to hurt her now than to get more involved and really hurt her later. That’s what I tell myself. But every time someone comes through the door of the tutoring center, I look over to see if it’s her. And even though I know sitting next to her and not touching her will be a struggle, I hope she shows. I’d rather suffer than not see her at all.

  If only there was some way to spend more time with her without things getting complicated. But no matter how much I like her, she’s a relationship kind of girl, and I am just not that kind of guy.

  The tutoring session finally ends, and I hope I did the poor student some good. I hang out by the front desk, hands in my pockets, watching the door from the corner of my eye. Feeling like some nervous high school kid about to go to the prom.

  When Amber finally comes through the door, she looks nothing like the bright-eyed girl who teases me back and calls me on my bullshit. Her shoulders are slumped, her head down.

  Then she looks up and sees me. Her shoulders come back, her chin comes up, and she meets my eyes as she approaches.

  I know exactly what she’s doing: putting on a brave front, trying not to let me see that I’ve hurt her. But she can’t hide the pain in her beautiful eyes, and knowing I put it there makes me feel like a major asshole.

  “Are we on for this morning?” she asks. Her tone is cool and it’s like a knife in my stomach.

  “Of course.” I lead her to a table in the center of the room. As we get settled, I wrestle with myself, knowing it’s better not to bring it up, but I can’t keep the words in. “I thought I’d hear from you to confirm our session.”

  She sets her notebook down on the table with more force than necessary. “Is there somewhere else you need to be?”

  There’s veiled anger now, joining the hurt, pushing the knife in deeper. “No, I’m free,” I say.

  “That’s good.” She smiles, but it’s hollow, and I can tell she’s put up a wall between us.

  Of course she would. I came on strong, gave her the full Aidan treatment, and then disappeared. She has a right to be hurt and angry.

  While Amber flips through her notes, I try to figure out what I might say to make things right. When my phone buzzes, she glances at it sideways. “Sorry,” I say. “Let me just see what this is.”

  It’s from Justin at the front desk. “Sorry,” I say again. “I’ll be right back.”

  Justin’s got a call holding from the student from my previous session, who suspects he’s left his calculator behind. I go to check in the study room where we’d been sitting. There’s a group in there, and the calculator is nowhere to be seen, but when I ask, one of the students admits to finding it. He was going to turn it in, he says. I don’t argue with him, just take the calculator and deliver it to Justin so the student can retrieve it.

  When I turn back to where Amber’s sitting, I see a guy standing there talking to her. From the look on her face, she’s a lot happier with him than me right now.

  Something vicious twists in my gut, and it takes me a moment to recognize it. I haven’t been jealous about a girl since I was in third grade. She’s looking up at him, eyes bright, and he’s smiling down at her — and I want to punch his lights out.

  No matter how big an asshole it makes me, I am so not okay with watching another guy hit on Amber. I reach the table in time to hear him say, “Can I get your number?”

  My fists clench at my sides. “Hey, Amber,” I say a little too loudly, cutting off any potential response. “Sorry about that. Are you ready to get started?”

  I stare the other guy down, and it doesn’t take him long to get the picture. “I’ll see you around,” he says, backing away from the table.

  The fuck he will.

  Amber watches him go, and I watch her watching him. Those few seconds don’t cool my anger, but they’re enough for a strange clarity to overtake me.

  When she finally looks back at me, I say, “I need to talk to you.”

  25

  Amber

  Aidan’s voice is heavy and deep, and it lights me up at the same time it sends a chill through me.

  His words sound like the start of a breakup conversation, but we can’t be breaking up when we were never together. And anyway, our “non-breakup” already happened when he stopped contacting me, stopped flirting with me.

  “What’s going on?” I ask. “We’re still studying, right?”

  “Yeah, just not here,” he says. “Let’s go somewhere else.” I’m completely off balance and have no idea what he has in mind. Turning numb, I nod and follow him as he leads us out of the center.

  Aidan walks briskly, like he has somewhere to go. When we’re a good distance from the building, he stops abruptly and turns to me. “I can’t do this,” he says.

  My stomach, which had already been knotted into a tight ball since I arrived at the tutoring center, twists again. Aidan looks agitated
, almost angry.

  “You can’t do what?” I say.

  He stares at me, looking deep into my eyes, and I can’t look away, even though I desperately want to. “I can’t stay away from you.”

  At first I can’t even process what he’s said. He doesn’t touch me, but his eyes continue to pierce mine, like he’s searching for my reaction.

  Then it hits me, and the ball in my stomach unfurls as warmth floods through me. It’s not just me. I can see in his eyes that he feels the pull too, that something-deeper that draws me to him like an undertow, like I felt outside his house that night.

  When he reaches up to claim a strand of my hair, I completely melt. I drop my bag, go into his arms, and just hold on. His arms come around me and hold me tight, and for a long moment we just stand there, not speaking, but communicating so much in our embrace.

  Everything, for those few moments, feels incredibly right.

  “I missed you,” I say, and his grip tightens around me, his hand warm at the back of my neck.

  “I missed you too.” He touches his forehead to mine for a moment, then draws back to look at me. “Want to go to BFOC? I could use some food, and we can study there.”

  Food is the absolute farthest thing from my mind, especially with how my stomach feels, but right now I’d agree to study at the top of Mount Everest so long as he was there.

  We set off across campus again. Aidan doesn’t take my hand, and I realize he hasn’t even kissed me. His words and his embrace were intense, but I still feel off balance somehow.

  He said he missed me, but what does that mean? Why has he been ignoring me these past two weeks? I don’t want to be some demanding, clingy girl, but I honestly don’t understand what’s going on between us. Are we somehow “together” now, or is he just circling back to me because he’s still attracted to me? Is he still getting laid every time he turns around while he keeps this, whatever “this” is, going with me?

  I want to be able to voice my questions and find some clarity, but I can’t work out how to say these things without it sounding bad, and without ruining whatever’s going on between us.

  At the café, Aidan pulls a sandwich out of the case while I hang back. “What would you like?” he asks.

  “I can get it,” I say.

  Arching a brow, he gives me a look. “Just let me,” he says.

  His words strike me as a metaphor for our entire relationship. I’m on his time, on his terms, at his will.

  I look back at him for a second and then pick a small salad out of the case, not really sure I can eat anything. Aidan pays for the food, and leads us to a quiet booth. While he tears into his sandwich, I poke at my food but can’t bring myself to eat. My confusion and frustration seem to be stuck in my throat.

  “What’s wrong?” he asks.

  I blurt out the thought at the forefront of my mind before I have a chance to second guess myself. “Why did you want to stay away from me?”

  He hesitates for a moment, puts his sandwich down, and seems to be gathering his thoughts. Finally he says, “I don’t have … neither of us really has time for something serious, you know? We’ve got classes, and work, and I’ve got the band.”

  My heart is beating fast. I want to continue to question him, to try to pin him down and know exactly what there is between us, but this doesn’t seem like the time for that kind of discussion. Aidan’s watching me, waiting for my reaction, and I decide to keep things light.

  “Yeah,” I say. “That makes sense. We’re both really busy.”

  “Right,” he says, his mouth curving into a smile. “So I thought it would be better to just … keep our distance.” The smile fades, and he puts a hand over mine. “But I don’t want to keep my distance from you.”

  Heat races up my arm from his touch. I meet his eyes — those dark, devastating eyes — and I manage to answer in a whisper, “I don’t want that either.”

  We hold each other’s gaze for a long moment, his hand still on mine, his eyes seeming to see deep inside me. I wonder if he can see the line I’ve just crossed in my head ... and my heart.

  I don’t want to keep any distance from him. I want to be all in with him, come what may. I’ve felt the heartbreak of thinking he’s done with me, and I can deal with that again if I have to. I want to be with Aidan fully. I want him to be my first.

  Even if he could tell what I’m thinking, he probably wouldn’t realize what a big deal it is to me. He’s probably been through scenes like this with lots of girls before me.

  My stomach tightens again, and I push away the unwelcome thought. Whatever Aidan’s done with other girls, it doesn’t matter anymore. I turn my hand beneath his so we’re palm to palm, curling my fingers around him. I don’t care if he’s a player, and I know this probably won’t be a long-term thing. I know he’s not the perfect choice for someone like me, who always tries to make the right decision. I don’t care anymore; I just want him.

  I squeeze his hand, he smiles at me, and then we return to our food. A weight feels like it’s been lifted, and I dig into my salad, while Aidan’s feet tangle with mine under the table.

  After we eat, we go ahead with the tutoring session, and it all feels so different, and so right. Aidan isn’t being the cocky flirt he was at our first session, and he’s not being distant either. He seems like himself, like the real him is fully present with me, and I work through my chemistry with a warm glow lighting me from inside.

  “I can tell you’ve been studying,” he says, after I balance an equation in record time.

  “My final’s on Thursday. I think I’m almost ready.”

  “I have rehearsal Wednesday afternoon for our show Thursday, but how about if you come by practice and then we can go to my house and study? A final review before your test?”

  His question warms me. He’s inviting me into his life, asking me to come and hang out with him and the band, with people who matter to him. But I know I wouldn’t be able to concentrate. The thought of meeting the other guys is slightly intimidating. It might be best if I postpone that until sometime after the test, when I don’t need to be so focused.

  “That would be great, but can I meet you at your house instead?”

  “Sure. I’ll text you when I’m on my way home.”

  We leave the café and cross campus together, walking side-by-side, our bodies sometimes brushing together. Before we get very far, a girl is suddenly in front of us, a blonde I remember from the day we walked to Aidan’s house.

  Acting as if she can’t even see me, she stands directly in front of Aidan, her hand on her jutting hip, her expression one of teasing frustration. “Hey stranger, how are you?”

  “Hi,” Aidan says, his tone neutral.

  “Great show, Saturday,” the blonde says. “I love your new song!”

  “Yeah? That’s great.” As Aidan answers her, he casually drapes his arm around my shoulders, earning me a death stare from his fan.

  Her brows lift, then her eyes narrow, and I can read her “Who the fuck are you?” expression loud and clear. I stare back at her, not speaking, but letting my eyes answer hers.

  “Okay, see you,” she says, as she abruptly walks away.

  We start to walk again, and Aidan takes his arm off my shoulder but laces his fingers together with mine. It feels so casual and comfortable and it lights me up inside.

  As we near the edge of campus, he squeezes my hand and says, “I’d like you to come home with me, but I have to study for finals, and I know that won’t happen if I’m with you.”

  “That’s okay. I have class in a little while.”

  “I’ll see you Wednesday evening?”

  “Yeah.”

  We stop at the corner, and Aidan lays his hand on my cheek and leans in to softly brush his lips against mine. The scent of him and the taste of him have me wanting to melt into him, to wrap myself around him and never let go. When he parts my lips with his and gently brushes his tongue against mine, I put my arms around him and kiss hi
m back, letting him know how much I’ve missed him.

  By the time we finish our goodbye, I can feel his stiffness pressing into my thigh. “I wish we were alone right now,” I say.

  “Yeah?” Aidan says, sounding on the verge of being out of breath.

  “Yeah. I owe you some … attention.” I twist my hips slightly to push against his erection.

  Aidan groans, the sound coming from deep down inside him. He rests his forehead against mine and says, “You don’t owe me anything, but I’ll look forward to that happening sometime.”

  He seems to grow harder still pressing against me. “Did I just make it worse?” I ask.

  He gives me a rueful grin followed by one more quick kiss. “I’ll live.” Aidan holds his bag in front of him, throws a sexy smile my way, and heads off toward his house.

  26

  Amber

  I take two tests over the next two days and they go well. Between them, I continue to review my chemistry notes. I know I’ve improved, but I’m not completely confident that it will be enough.

  My mood alternates sharply between nervousness over my chem final and pure, high-flying happiness. Over and over, I replay Aidan’s “I can’t stay away from you,” and feel like I could float away on a cloud. But then I bring myself back down to earth, and continue to run reviews of formulas, symbols and molecules. Would it be weird to confess that chemistry is starting to seem just a little bit sexy, since I’ve got it all tangled up with Aidan in my mind?

  Shortly after five on Wednesday, I hear from Aidan as promised. I’ll be home in a few minutes. Are you ready to study?

  Be there soon, I reply.

  When I get to his house, Aidan’s dad is already home and greets me warmly. As Aidan and I get settled in the dining room, Mr. Holt doesn’t even bother poking around the kitchen. “We were about to order Chinese, Amber. What would you like?”

  “I was kind of hoping you’d let me cook again,” I say. I do truly love cooking, and it would provide a nice change of pace from studying and taking tests, but the real joy of it comes from Mr. Holt’s response. He breaks into a broad grin and doesn’t even bother protesting.