Once Upon A Rock Star

by Yessi Smith

  “The bra you left drying on the sofa?”

  Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

  “If I get the bra and hide it before Brandon sees it, can I go to the skatepark tonight?”

  “This is new. You’re asking permission now?” I shoot him an arched eyebrow from the rearview mirror.

  “Yeah.” He shrugs. “Thought I’d try asking instead of sneaking out like I usually do.”

  An uncharacteristically light laugh builds up and spills from my lips and I shake my head. A handsome stranger saved our asses tonight and now my little brother is asking permission to go out. It’s like the stars have aligned in this perfectly epic way and I’m almost scared to let my guard down and relish in the unknown.

  Chapter Three

  Brandon

  I shouldn’t remember her face. The sad eyes on her smiling face. The cute crinkle of her nose when I winked at her. I shouldn’t remember a girl I’d only caught a glimpse of yesterday morning when she came in to clean my hotel room. The shy bow of her head when I passed her. The quiet strength that held her shoulders back.

  The moment passed too quickly and she was out of my life without ever being a part of it.

  A spark, a sizzle that faded with her.

  There was nothing between us beyond that moment. Or at least there shouldn’t be. But it’s there in the way I, only moments ago, frantically searched for something, not knowing what that something was until my eyes landed on her in the dimly lit parking lot of the small store. It’s there in the way my blood thrashes in my veins as I stride toward her car to help with the groceries I bought for her family. It’s in the way the tension sizzles to life when her eyes connect with mine.

  She doesn’t remember me from yesterday or recognize me. It’s relieving, for once not having to live up to someone else’s expectation of who I am or how I should act.

  I step into her space, my body so close to hers I can feel the warmth emanating from her skin. She places a hand on my chest and gives me a small push. My pulse spikes at the contact.

  “This way.” She tilts her head toward her apartment building as she holds baby Ada in her arms.

  After grabbing some bags from her trunk, I follow her, giving myself a gorgeous view of the curvy thighs encased in tight black pants. She shoots me an apprehensive smile and I shift uncomfortably at the sudden tightness of my jeans. We take the stairs to her apartment and when we reach the top, Gabriel stops me with a firm hand to my shoulder.

  “Don’t even think about hurting my sister,” he warns in a hushed tone. “You don’t touch her unless she says you can. Even then, you better think about what you’re doing. If you hurt her…”

  “I won’t,” I interrupt. “I’m here for a sandwich. That’s it, man.”

  Satisfied, he nods.

  A sandwich. If the guys were to see me right now, in this very moment, they’d rupture a blood vessel or two from laughing at me. Maybe even herniate a disc. Collapse a lung, dislocate their jaw. That’s how pathetic, how low I’ve gotten for a woman who only a day ago entranced me with the fierceness I felt brewing beneath the bashfulness.

  One look. Whoosh, common sense gone.

  From the doorway, Maria stares back at both of us, an amused expression on her face.

  “Don’t think for a second he can’t or won’t kick your ass,” she sings back at me.

  She ruffles his hair when he goes through the open door and he darts away. With his bags already on the kitchen counter, Gabriel bristles out of the small living space and disappears into a bedroom by the time I put my bags up.

  “So,” she says, her awkwardness at our situation palpable.

  “I make a mean grilled cheese.” A nervous laugh rumbles inside me.

  She sets a sleeping Ada in a baby swing that doesn’t swing when she turns it on. She sighs. “A friend gave it to me,” she says and closes her tired eyes. When she opens her lids, the tiredness remains, but the quiet strength I’ve been waiting for resurfaces.

  “You bought the food. I can cook it.”

  “Sounds like a fair enough trade.”

  Even to me, our conversation sounds stifled. Me, stumbling over my words. Shy even. The guys would seriously own my ass if they saw me now.

  She gives me her back and, man, what a back. My dad, who was also the first manager for Sava Effect, was an ass man. Turns out I didn’t just inherit my good looks from him. Quickly, she puts away the few items that barely take up any space in her cupboards or refrigerator. A sad tug pulls at me to give her more, to fill her pantries so she has one less struggle.

  I make a mental note of everything I think she’s missing and while she busies herself on the stove, I text the list to my assistant along with Maria’s address so she can deliver everything to her tomorrow. I push away the hesitancy, the uncertainty of how Maria will feel when she sees what I’ve done, and hit send.

  She has two kids to feed and take care of, and from the looks of it, she’s doing it alone. My dad would dig his way out of his grave and smack me with a bat if I turned away from her. He wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot and we went at it more than a few times. But he was a man of honor, and men of honor do whatever’s needed to help anyone who needs that extra hand. Regardless of whether they ask for it or not.

  Wanting to be closer to her, I sit on the counter beside the stove. She turns her head and smiles at me. It’s slow and the sides of her lips twitch before they spread and that gorgeous smile reaches her eyes. Compelled to touch her, I reach for her, attempting to cup her face or trail my thumb over her chin. On a sharp inhale, she wraps her hand around my wrist where I’m sure she can feel my pulse quicken.

  “What are you doing, Brandon?” Her voice is husky and raw and does all sorts of things to me that I’ve never once experienced before.

  She inches toward me and I lean down to her. She takes another step and I hop off the counter. We both move forward and slowly the small space between us disappears. Placing both hands on her waist, I pull her the rest of the way to me. Her eyes widen, but she runs a hand over my arm, her finger tracing the outline of one of my tattoos.

  I lean into her, my lips brushing slightly over hers, giving her the chance to push me away. But, damn, I hope she doesn’t pull away.

  One kiss.

  That’s all I want.

  All I need.

  One kiss.

  Instead, her fingers dig into my flesh as she holds onto me. I tilt my head closer to her and when my tongue flicks over her lips, she parts them for me and I slip inside. Her tongue tangles with mine. I move my hands to the back of her head and fist her hair in my hand as I angle her face to the side to deepen the kiss.

  There’s hunger in our kiss. Hunger and a flame I hope never goes out.

  One kiss, that’s all I wanted.

  It’ll never be enough.

  She pulls away first, her eyes hooded, and she touches her trembling fingers to her lips. Without saying anything, she goes back to the stove and puts both sandwiches onto the paper plates she’d taken out earlier.

  I move to touch her but she puts my plate in my outstretched hand.

  “Maria,” I begin, unsure of what I’m supposed to say next.

  “Don’t you dare apologize for kissing me.”

  “I wasn’t going to,” I say. “Thank you for the sandwich.”

  She smiles and I hate that it’s the same smile I saw yesterday in my hotel room. The practiced one that somehow makes her look sadder.

  Wanting to remove that expression from existence, I steal another kiss. I press my lips against hers and when she doesn’t open, I lick the seams of her lips. With my free hand around the back of her neck, I trail my lips over her jaw and down her throat.

  Her chest lifts and falls in rapid progression. Putting my plate down, I also take hers and place it beside mine. I guide her hands around my neck and trail both my hands down either side of her frame. She shudders and pulls my face to hers. Rather than meet her kiss for kiss, I flick my tongue against
the pulse on her throat.

  Her nails dig into my skin as her breaths fall around me. It’s as if she’s everywhere, touching my entire body at once.

  The sound of a door slamming stops us and like teenagers afraid to get caught, we hastily step away from each other.

  “You!” Gabriel shouts, his face alight with happiness instead of anger.

  Confused, I point at my chest and ask, “Me?”

  Maria chuckles and takes both plates to her round dining room table. I follow her, trying to keep my gaze off her ass, and we both take a seat. I scoot my chair closer to Maria so that my knee bumps hers.

  “You’re Brandon Wright!” Gabriel bounces from one foot to the other. He looks at Maria, whose eyes widen in shock. “You’re having dinner with Brandon fucking Wright!”

  “Language,” she scolds, without any authority.

  Her face pales but she busies herself by taking a bite of her sandwich.

  “I knew you looked familiar,” he says.

  I duck my head down, disappointed to be outed so soon. Just one night, that’s all I wanted. One night to lay low. One night I didn’t have to put on an act.

  Making the best of the situation, I part my lips into a lazy grin.

  “Yeah?” I cock my head. “Was that before or after you called me an asshole?”

  Chapter Four

  Maria

  Gabriel’s face turns a dark shade of red and despite my gut twisting into intricate knots, I laugh at his expression. Brandon – as in Brandon Wright, self-proclaimed god of rock – smiles at me, making the laughter die as soon as it was born.

  “Yeah, man.” Gabriel shuffles his feet. “I’m sorry about that.”

  Brandon barks out a laugh, but it sounds strained. As if he had to force it out. The expression he wears masks any unease he might feel and when he stands from his chair and claps Gabriel on the shoulder, I know why his presence felt too strong.

  Even in the hotel yesterday morning when I went in to clean his room. Remembering him, I groan into my hands and although through the cracks of my fingers I see Brandon look my way, Gabriel remains oblivious.

  “No apologies, man,” Brandon says. “It’s no big deal.”

  Gabriel runs his hand over his too-long hair, and I drop my hands witnessing the lost vulnerability come back in my little brother. Stupid tears threaten to spill but I hold them back, not wanting to miss a second of Gabriel’s innocent youth come in the form of hero worship.

  “Do you have anything you want me to sign?”

  “I actually… I...” He clears his throat and coughs into his fisted hand.

  “He steals your music off the internet,” I offer.

  “Maria!” he yells.

  I shoot him a sly smile. “Time and time again, I’ve told you how stealing is wrong. Now it’s time for you to finally learn that lesson.”

  “Maria’s a mega super fan. Bigger than me,” he tosses back at me. “She turns your songs into lullabies for Ada and sings them to her every night. And when she’s cooking, she sings along and dances, too. It’s horrible.”

  “At least I bought my copies.”

  “Stalker fan!”

  “He’s the stalker.” I point at Brandon.

  The sides of his eyes crinkle as his smile widens.

  “He followed me from the hotel!”

  “What?” both guys ask.

  “You think I wouldn’t piece it together?” I ask, not knowing what I’m saying but letting the words tumble out anyway.

  If I’m going to be embarrassed, I’m taking everyone down with me. Maybe even Ada.

  “I remember you, Mr. Rock God. I cleaned your hotel room yesterday.”

  “You cleaned his hotel room?” Gabriel asks. “You didn’t do anything gross, like smell his underwear, did you?”

  “Gabe!” I throw my crumpled-up napkin at him and he dodges it without problem.

  “That’s a good question,” Brandon chimes in. “Did you smell my underwear yesterday?”

  “Because if she did, I can give you the bra I hid from you before you came into the apartment.”

  “Oh dear God,” I grumble, feeling my face enflame.

  No longer hungry, I stand from my chair and take the few steps to my kitchen. On the counter, I rummage through my purse, huffing when I can’t find what I’m looking for. From my periphery, I spot Gabriel nudge Brandon with an elbow.

  “She’s looking for her balls.”

  He throws his head back and laughs. I stop what I’m doing to admire him. So unbridled, without restraints. He laughs hard and heedless. It’s beautiful.

  “Her what?” He wipes the bottom of his nose with the back of his hand and entranced, I follow his movements.

  Veins curve up his arm, following the path of sinewy muscles and I know this is it. This is what arm porn looks like. My mouth dries and when his eyes darken as he watches me, I force myself to continue searching through my purse.

  “Meditation balls,” I explain, not meeting his gaze, although he advances toward me. “I’m looking for my meditation balls.”

  Not that it’ll help. My nerves are wrecked for good. All because I brought home a stranger who did something kind for my brother.

  He hums and involuntarily, my attention snaps to him.

  “Meditation balls?” He digs his teeth into the bottom of his lips and I suppress a smile when he glances from Gabriel to me and I know he’s waging a war in his head on what he can and cannot say in front of my brother.

  I grab the first thing I find – a balled up receipt and toss it at Brandon, giggling when it bounces off his nose. “Mind out of the gutter, Wright.”

  He lunges toward me, and I should be scared. A strange man in my apartment charging after me. Everything in my upbringing warns me, but laughter bubbles up quickly and I run to the sink where I turn on the water and point the hose at him.

  “Come at me,” I taunt, knowing that just like Ada’s swing, the hose doesn’t work.

  But Brandon doesn’t know that. He lifts his hands in a sign of surrender and we stare off. Appeased, I shut off the water, just as Brandon reaches for a nearby glass and tosses the water in my face. Narrowing my eyes at him, I spring toward him. He catches me by my waist and throws me over his shoulder.

  Gabriel’s whole body shakes with laughter. His laugh, it’s so unexpected, something I haven’t heard in so long I almost forgot what it sounds like.

  “This is your fault!” I shout at him from my upside down position. “That was your glass of water that he threw at me. I told you to clean your glass.”

  “As punishment,” Brandon cuts in, “I’m gonna give you all of my CDs and have my band members sign them.”

  “Awesome!”

  Lightly, I smack his back, ready to get down when Ada begins to stir. Taking the hint, he puts me down on my feet, but places a hand on the small of my back as if he can’t stand the idea of not touching me. The thought warms me, even though I know it’s not true.

  He’s nothing more than a kind stranger, a good man, who also happens to be insanely famous. Never mind the emotions he stirs in me. They’re my emotions, my reactions to a gorgeous man with a heart as big as the ocean.

  Ada blinks slowly and I crouch down in front of her, stroking her chubby cheek with a slender finger.

  “I’ve got her,” Gabriel says, moving to the kitchen to prepare her milk.

  “Nah, Gabe,” I reply. “You wanted to go to the skatepark. By the time you finish, it’s gonna be late and you know how I am.”

  “I’ll go tomorrow.”

  My back stiffens, and the exhaustion I’ve been able to battle away seeps in. “Absolutely not. You’ll just end up sneaking out later on and I need some sleep.” My voice is stern, but I can’t hide the desperation behind it.

  “I won’t.” He kisses my cheek and when he takes Ada from me, I run a finger over the spot he kissed. “Promise, Maria. I told you, no more sneaking out. I’ll go tomorrow before it gets late.”

 
; I draw my brows together as Gabriel waits for me to make a decision. Brandon gives my side a gentle squeeze. It’s meant to reassure, but all it does is make my blood boil hotter until I’m certain it’ll burn me from the inside out.

  “He said he won’t sneak out,” Brandon says, as if he thinks a fifteen-year-old boy won’t tell a lie. “Trust him and if he breaks your trust,” he shrugs, “no signed CDs, and definitely no backstage passes to my upcoming show.”

  Gabriel’s eyes widen and he hops from one foot to the other. “You’re serious? Backstage passes?”

  “If your sister doesn’t mind.”

  “She doesn’t.” He turns to address me, pleading. “Tell him you don’t mind.”

  I pretend to mull it over in my head and when I nod, he tilts his head back in quiet celebration.

  He gives me a one arm hug that I return with too much enthusiasm. “I’ll give Ada a bath after she finishes her bottle and then put her to bed.”

  “Thanks, Gabe.” I pat his cheek before he goes back into his room. “Where the hell have you been all my life?” I ask Brandon, only half joking. “You could’ve bribed him a long time ago and saved me years of worry.”

  “I was gonna ask you the same question.”

  My heart stops then stammers to an erratic start, creating its own beat to the sound Brandon’s declaration.

  I let him lead me to my couch and when we sit on it, I wish I had draped something to cover the worn, tired fabric. But this is me. My life. Tired and worn.

  “How old are you, Maria?”

  “Nineteen,” I say, my voice so low I can barely hear it.

  I wait for judgment to cloud his brown eyes, but all I find reflecting back at me is understanding.

  “How did a nineteen-year-old come to take care of her little brother and sister?”

  Studying him through narrow eyes, I ask, “How do you know Ada’s my sister and not my daughter?”

  He crosses thick arms over his chest, making the muscles strain as his tattoos peek and dance just beneath the sleeve of his shirt. “Are you always this suspicious?”