by K. A. Linde
“And if you’re already fighting, then it’s probably only going to get worse. But if you decide to see this guy, tell him your older brother will beat his ass if he hurts you again,” Aaron said.
The thought of Aaron trying to beat up Grant was highly amusing, and I cracked a smile for the first time in what felt like forever.
“That’s better. Come on, we have to get to the hotel. You’ll get to meet Sarah.”
In the limousine, my parents chatted aimlessly on the way to the Christmas party, and Aaron had his arm around his new girlfriend, Sarah. I gazed out the back window and prayed for the night to end quickly. We pulled up in front of the hotel and were escorted to the ballroom.
My mother took me aside at the entrance. “Aribel, please do try to smile while you’re here tonight,” she said with a wary look in her eye. “I’ve noticed that you seem sullen, but maybe the festivities will do you some good.”
I managed a polite smile and nodded. “Of course.”
“Also,” she said, gesturing for me to follow her, “we have invited a delightful young man who works for your father.”
I groaned. “Please don’t do this.”
“Just meet him!” she insisted. “His name is Henry. His parents are from the area. He graduated from Harvard three years ago, and he is already making his way seamlessly up the company.”
Twenty-five. My mother was pitching me to a guy who was six years my senior and listing off his good qualities, like he was antique furniture being auctioned off to the highest bidder.
“I’m not interested.”
My mother gave me a stern look. “It’s good and well that you’ve been focused on your schoolwork, but it doesn’t hurt to look around. You never know. You might like him.”
Grant. I liked Grant. No do-gooder Harvard grad from high-society was going to compare to Grant. I almost couldn’t believe those thoughts had just crossed my mind. Hadn’t I thought the same as my mother only four months earlier?
“Henry!” my mother said, fluttering her fingers.
Oh God, she had just been walking me right to him.
“Diana, so good to see you,” Henry said. His eyes swept past my mother and landed on me. “And you must be Aribel. I’m Henry Arbor.”
I handed him my hand to shake, but he brought it to his lips. His blue eyes stared straight through me. I managed not to squirm uncomfortably, but I quickly retrieved my hand.
“Nice to meet you,” I said.
I got my first real glance at Henry, and he was everything I’d suspected—tall, blond, blue-eyed with a suit to rival my brother’s, and a smile that could charm a snake.
My mother smiled brightly at our introduction and then went back to find my father in the crowd. I avoided Henry’s curious glances and scurried after her. I spent the remainder of the evening tucked into a corner of the room, wasting time on my cell phone. A text pinged on the screen from Grant, and my heart raced.
Merry Christmas, Princess. Hope you get everything you want. Unless you manage to get a ticket into Jersey, I’m afraid I’ll be without the only thing I want. Stay warm, and come back soon. I miss you.
Tears swam in my eyes. Damn him! How did he bring out this much emotion in me from a simple text message? Ugh! I felt positively dreadful. There was no other way to put it. I missed him, and I wanted to make things right. I’d have to find a way to talk to him.
“Are you all right?” Henry asked, materializing out of thin air.
“Oh!” I blinked the tears away. “Sorry. I’m fine.”
“Do you want to take a stroll around the hotel?”
“Did my mother send you?” I asked before I could stop myself.
Henry looked taken aback, and I wasn’t sure if it was an act or not.
“No, of course not. I just saw that you looked sad and wanted to get you out of here in case other people noticed.”
“So…this is about appearances?” God, my stupid mouth.
“Have I done something to offend you?” Henry asked plainly. “You looked like you needed an escape. I can provide one.”
“All right,” I said softly.
I wanted to push Grant’s text out of my mind anyway. Henry walked me to the nearest door, and we started wandering leisurely around the hotel. He didn’t say much, which was a relief. The silence was better anyway.
“Want to see something?” Henry asked.
“Um…sure.”
He pushed open a door and led me into an empty ballroom. It was dark, the only light coming in from the panel of windows along the far wall. Henry shrugged out of his tuxedo jacket and walked me out to the balcony overlooking the city.
“Here,” he said, slipping his jacket over my slim shoulders.
I felt a touch of guilt for taking it, but I was glad I had it.
“God, it’s freezing.”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “It looks better in the summer. You’d like it.”
I shrugged. “So, how do you like working for the company?”
“It suits me. How are you enjoying Princeton?”
I turned my face back out toward the city. “It’s nice.”
“Will you be in town much longer?” he pried.
“Through the rest of break. I don’t have school again until the second week of January.” That meant I would be away from Grant for a couple more weeks. Could I wait that long?
“Do you have plans for New Year’s?”
New Year’s. Oh my God! Why didn’t I think of that before? My whole face lit up. Grant would be in New York for New Year’s. He still had to be opening for The Drift. I could go there. We could talk then before I came back to school.
Realizing I hadn’t responded to Henry, I spoke up, “I’m going to be in New York City with one of my friends.”
He looked disappointed but managed to cover it up. “What about after that? I’m leaving on vacation with my family to Paris for a week, but I get back on New Year’s Eve. I’d love to take you out.”
Oh…
Oh!
“Um…I really appreciate the offer, but I’m not sure what I’ll be doing.”
“Well, just think about it. I’d like to see you again,” he said, turning me to face him.
He looked completely one hundred percent sincere. I guessed I’d somehow charmed him in our short time together, or it was the parental influence behind the whole exchange. He was rather handsome. Before Grant, I would have totally been into this. But now, all I saw was a life I didn’t want to fit into because it was one without Grant.
Henry’s eyes dropped down to my lips, and I saw his intention a split second before he leaned down to kiss me. I turned my face at the last second, and he chastely kissed me on the cheek. Henry cleared his throat. I’d embarrassed him. That much was clear to me.
“Perhaps we should get you back inside. You’re shaking.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” I whispered.
I was certainly shaking but not from the cold. It was from what had almost happened.
Grant and I were on a break.
We needed space.
We needed time.
We weren’t broken up.
“Not a drop to drink?” Vin asked me, holding the bottle of tequila out in front me. “I bet we could get someone over here to do body shots.”
“Not interested,” I said.
I leaned back against the bar and surveyed the crowd hovering backstage at The Drift’s New Year’s show. We were low profile compared to them, and while girls still gravitated toward us, most of the attention was on the other band—mostly Donovan to be honest.
I’d driven into the city a few days early to meet with Hollis. He’d hooked me up with Donovan, and we got along so well that he’d ended up inviting me to some exclusive party last night. I’d had a few drinks there but nothing to throw me over the edge. I wasn’t looking to do that tonight before the show—not after what had happened before our last show with The Drift. Not after what had happened with Ari.
I still h
adn’t heard from her since she left the ski lodge. I hadn’t messaged her since Christmas, and I was going to try to keep that up until she got back to school. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop myself from rushing over to her place as soon as she was supposed to be home.
“Bro, when are you going to stop this shit? I’ve only been back around you for a fucking week, and already, I’m tired of you sober,” Vin complained.
“I just don’t feel like drinking tonight. You drink enough for both of us anyway.”
“Is it still about that chick?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said quickly. My standard answer.
“Good. Don’t talk about it. Just fucking get over it.”
“I’m not just getting over her either, so just drop it.” My voice lowered dangerously.
Vin knew this was a bad topic, yet he wouldn’t let it go. One day, he was seriously going to get his ass handed to him.
“I know what you should do.”
“What’s that?”
“That,” he said, pointing out a banging brunette who had been eye-fucking me all night.
“No.”
“Fuck, man, look at those tits. She’s got them on full display for you. And that ass. I know you’re an ass man, bro. When she leans over, I can straight-up see ass cheeks. That chick wants your dick. She wants to blow it, suck it, fuck it, ride it. You name it. She wants it. Why the fuck would you stay sober and mope around about your ex-girlfriend when that ass is begging you to shove your cock in it?”
I clenched my fists at my sides. I would not blow up on my brother. I would not throw my fist in his face. “She’s not my ex-girlfriend,” I said as calmly as I could.
“She walked out on you. Sounds like a free-for-all to me. Just get over it.”
“Are you over Sydney?” I asked just to shut him up.
Vin glared at me. “Don’t even bring that shit up. Miller’s on my fucking shitlist.”
“You weren’t even together. You haven’t been since high school. I’ll get over Ari as soon as you’re over Sydney, all right?”
“Only one difference—I’m fucking other chicks, and you aren’t.”
I shrugged. I wasn’t Vin, and this wasn’t Sydney. This was Ari. I only had about two weeks left before I would see her, and I wasn’t going to fuck up between now and then.
Hollis walked up to us with a big smile and clapped his hands together. “You guys ready for the biggest performance you’ve ever experienced?”
“Fuck yeah!” Vin cried.
“Grant?” Hollis asked.
“Course I’m ready.”
“Hollis, bro, you need to convince Grant to get over his ex. He won’t listen to me anymore.”
I glared at Vin and crossed my arms over my chest. I wasn’t going to talk about this shit with Hollis.
“Ah, relationship trouble? This about the girl who walked in at the ski lodge?”
I ground my teeth and nodded.
“Not the first time I’ve seen that happen unfortunately. That’s just the life, the way it is. Girls don’t stick around long in this environment.”
“See, bro?” Vin said, slapping my arm. “Go fuck that girl.”
Hollis glanced over in the direction where Vin was pointing. “Ah, Jaci. I bet you’d like her, Grant. She floats around with the band.”
Groupie. Fucking groupie slut. That was all I could think. Suddenly, I was repulsed by the thought instead of encouraged like I always had been.
“That’s the kind of girl you should be hanging around with anyway. No real attachments. She understands the life, and when you guys become famous, she won’t make a scene,” Hollis said with a laugh.
Shit, he’s fucking serious.
“This is the shit I’ve been telling him,” Vin agreed as if what Hollis had said made perfect fucking sense.
“I’ll introduce you after the show. Come to think of it, you’d probably like her friend Jennifer, too. In the meantime, you guys are up.” Hollis gestured to a side door where Miller and McAvoy were already standing, waiting to go onstage.
I could tell they were a bit nervous by the look on Miller’s face and the habitual way McAvoy flipped his drumstick.
I didn’t even have time to tell Hollis I had no interest in Jaci or Jennifer whether or not they were friends who would probably let me take them home together.
We were ushered to the side of the stage. Someone announced us, and the crowd erupted into applause as we walked onstage. To my credit, I kept my emotions in check, but this was, without a doubt, the biggest venue we’d ever played. The pit was teeming with people on their feet, screaming our name.
Once I was onstage, there was nothing else in the world. This was where I belonged, where I’d always wanted to be. I grasped the microphone in my hand and took over. “Happy New Year, New York City!”
The screams were deafening, even without earpieces for the show.
“We’re ContraBand, coming to you from Princeton, New Jersey. While you might not know us yet, I’m sure you’re going to be screaming our name all night long.”
I launched into “Hemorrhage” at McAvoy’s lead, and I lost myself in the performance. Feeding off of the crowd’s energy, we played phenomenally.
I wished Aribel could be here to experience it, but she was in Boston, probably going to fancy parties and trying to forget about me.
But I was goddamn certain that no one at the venue was going to forget about us tonight. We blew through our set like it was the easiest thing we’d ever done. I tossed a guitar pick into the crowd, and girls screamed as they literally clawed at each other to get it. I expected this behavior for The Drift…but for us? We were nobody. But maybe…maybe we were becoming somebody tonight.
Then, we hit “Life Raft.” I’d insisted that we keep it on the set list. It tethered me to Ari, and even though I knew I was emotionally unstable, I’d wanted to sing it for her. I’d wanted to imagine her in the crowd and remind her of what she meant to me.
Except now that I was here, it was the last song I wanted to sing. The truth was…Ari wasn’t here. She couldn’t hear me sing to her. She wouldn’t get to listen to me reminding her how she had saved me.
Pain pierced my heart as Vin picked at the melody I’d been strumming all winter break.
“This next song is our latest.” I looked out across the thousands of people screaming for us, waiting expectantly. My breath caught in my throat, and then I envisioned Ari out there, listening. It made it easier to say, “This one is for every time you’ve ever fallen in love. We call it ‘Life Raft.’”
I gasped.
Straight-up gasped.
If everyone else around me wasn’t screaming at the top of their lungs, then someone other than Cheyenne might have noticed my shock. Did Grant McDermott just confess his love for me onstage in front of thousands of people?
I reached out and grabbed Cheyenne’s arm to steady myself. I couldn’t breathe. This was the most unreal moment of my life. I’d come here to make amends, and he’d gone and done that. Whatever I had been planning to say was sure to pale in comparison.
Love.
Well…fuck. That was all I had. He’d knocked me down to four-letter expletives.
“Are you going to be okay?” Cheyenne asked.
I shook my head. “No. I don’t know.”
Whatever Cheyenne said next was lost on me as Grant sang our song. Despite the gentle quality of his voice, I could tell he was struggling to get the words out.
You’re my life raft in an endless ocean.
They ate at him. They showed every single emotion that he’d been sending through those text messages over break. He missed me, and he was hurting.
You saved me from drowning.
You saved me from myself.
And everything about him in that moment showed me how much the words affected him. He was drowning, and I wasn’t there to pull him out of it. I felt my heart breaking all over again.
The song ended
, and without another word, Grant stormed offstage. The other guys stared after him in shock. This clearly had not been part of their plan. Grant had just disappeared. I needed to get to him.
Miller recovered himself enough to grab the microphone and thank the crowd for coming out to see them. It cut their show off by at least three songs. They always closed with “Letting You.” Something was wrong.
“We need to get backstage,” I told Cheyenne frantically.
“What the fuck was that about?” she asked as she gestured for us to break through the crowd.
“I don’t know, but it wasn’t good. He wrote that song for me.”
“He wrote ‘Life Raft’ for you?” Cheyenne asked in disbelief. “Holy shit! That’s their best fucking song.”
“Yeah, and he kind of looked like he was going to go off the deep end when he was singing it.”
“Well, no shit! What do you think he’s going to do?”
“I don’t know. Nothing. He was probably just pissed.”
“Then, why are we running?” Cheyenne asked.
I didn’t justify that with an answer. I didn’t know what Grant was thinking. He’d never stormed offstage before. He loved his music. But he missed me. I knew he did. I didn’t think the combination of all that pent-up anger and frustration along with the reminder of me was going to do anything good for him in his mental state.
We rounded a corner that took us to the backstage entrance. A bunch of girls were standing around. Some were talking to the bouncer, and it looked like they were trying to sweet talk their way backstage. Other girls were just hanging around, hoping someone would let them inside. Cheyenne confidently elbowed her way past all the annoying girls and walked right up to the bouncer. One of the girls gave her a death glare.
“Name?” he asked, giving us a look that said he was thankful not to be talking to the other girl now.
“Cheyenne Redding and guest.”
The man ran his hand down the list and then checked us off. “Good to go, ladies.”
“How—”
“Vin,” Cheyenne said dismissively.
Of course.
We got backstage and saw that it was not just a large area, but it was packed. I sighed. I didn’t know where Grant would be and what state I’d find him in.
