Immaterial Defense: Once and Forever #4

by Lauren Stewart

  My jaw tightened. I suddenly wished this part of the club were as loud as the farther inside, so I wouldn’t have heard him say that. “No, actually. That’s worse. Not to mention incredibly rude, judgmental, and an all-around shitty thing to say. Aside from it not being true, of course.”

  “Of course, it’s not. I’m sure fucking me had nothing to do with the band either.” He leaned closer to me. “You know, it would’ve been a lot easier on both of us if you’d just asked me for an autograph.”

  “Oh, wow. Am I supposed to be impressed? Too bad I didn’t even know you were in a stupid band until last night. Partly because you somehow left that out when you told me about your job.”

  He briefly shut his eyes and took a breath. “You’re right—I shouldn’t have lied. It was wrong.” Then he nodded. “And no matter what your reasons for being here, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry. My mind’s been having a tough time sorting things out tonight.”

  I could tell he meant the apology, but the rest didn’t make sense. “My reasons for being here? What does that mean?”

  “Your friend—Carissa. She told me you knew who I was. I guess I was hoping a little too desperately that wasn’t the case.”

  “I find it a little hard to believe you’re desperate, Declan. And I seriously doubt you need to lie to get in a girl’s pants.” I clenched my eyes shut, hoping at least some of this would start making sense. “Guys lie about being in bands to get women to sleep with them.” I knew this because a few of them had tried. It hadn’t done anything for me, but when I thought about it, it had definitely worked on Carissa. “I’ve never heard of someone lying about not being in one.”

  “If it’s any consolation, I only partially lied to you.” One side of his mouth curled into a guilty grin, deepening the dimple on his cheek and giving me a peek into what he’d looked like as a little boy. I bet he got away with everything. “I really am a writer. But instead of books or articles, I write songs.”

  “You also sing and play the guitar in front of big crowds of cheering people.”

  “Sometimes.” He nodded. “I’m a songwriter who’s really sorry for assuming the worst and being an asshole.”

  “Don’t worry about it, dude,” Sam cut in. “I was just talking to her while we waited for you to get back, anyway.”

  “Were you really waiting for me?” he asked me hopefully.

  I wasn’t ready to let him off the hook. “Don’t worry, it’ll never happen again. Now that I know better.”

  “I’m really sorry, Sara.” He ran his hand through his hair, but it flopped right back into place. “I did exactly what I asked you not to do the last time we saw each other. I shouldn’t have assumed you were anything like other women. Can we start over, go back to before I turned into a jealous asshole?”

  He was jealous. That shouldn’t have made me so happy to hear. Jealousy was a terrible emotion—always.

  “Please,” Declan said. “Can we find somewhere to talk? Just for a minute?”

  I wasn’t sure anymore. I hadn’t expected this reaction and, frankly, it hurt. I slowly blew out a breath, giving myself a chance to figure out what I wanted from him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t something I could decide in a single exhalation. All I knew was that I didn’t want to be here anymore.

  “I’m leaving. If you really want to talk, you’ll have to do it while I’m waiting for a cab.”

  He nodded quickly. “I’ll take it.” Then he turned to Sam. “Sorry, man.”

  Sam slapped him on the shoulder. “No prob. But you owe me one. You wouldn’t believe how many assholes were gawking at her, even though it was so obvious how into me she was.” He winked at me. “If I’d have turned away for a second, they all would’ve pounced. Women are right—men are fucking pigs.”

  “Speaking of pigs…” Declan said with a half-grin that was more a showcase of his dimple than a smile. “Somebody needs to make sure Trevor gets home—the sooner, the better.” Then he turned to Sam, peeled a twenty-dollar bill from his billfold, and gave it to the drummer. After shoving the rest of his cash into his back pocket, he reached into the other one and pulled out a worn canvas wallet. “This is Trevor’s. Do you mind helping—?”

  “Our little piggy go wee-wee-wee all the way home? Sure, no prob. I was going to take off soon, anyway.” Sam grabbed the wallet and peeked inside.

  Declan laughed at his look of disappointment. “Damn, you shitheads are expensive.” He reached for his cash again and handed over another bill. “Thanks, man. I owe you two now.”

  “Nah, I was just kidding about that. After all, your tardiness let me get in some quality time with a very beautiful, very sweet listener.” Winking, Sam put his arms out to me as if he expected me to run in for a bear hug.

  I grabbed his face and gave him two kisses, one on each cheek. I really did appreciate him keeping me company. Although, at this exact moment, I wasn’t sure how smart it had been for me to stay.

  Thankfully, Sam seemed to understand, motioning me in with his pointer finger as soon as I let him go. Maybe he hadn’t understood. I leaned in warily.

  “I’ve never seen Declan freak out about a girl before,” he said. “He must really like you. Give him another shot. Dec’s one of the good guys, and there aren’t enough of them anymore.”

  Everyone’s definition of good guy was different. Mine didn’t include men who yell at me. But I’d hear him out because, even though he and I would never have a future together, I didn’t want to walk away feeling the way I was right now. Plus, Sam was right—there weren’t enough good guys left.

  “Take care of yourself, Sam. Thanks for your help.” Then I turned around and headed toward the front door without checking to see if Declan followed. If he really wanted to talk, it was up to him to keep up.

  18

  Sara

  The first breath of night air made up for all the shallow, dirty ones inside the club. Normally, by this time of the evening, I’d be so drunk I wouldn’t have even noticed. But I’d been so enthralled watching Declan perform, I’d forgotten all about my drink, so I was too damn sober.

  I stood on the sidewalk and looked down the street, expecting to hear his voice any second. I heard lots of other voices, but not his. But I didn’t want to turn around. I was still pissed at the way he’d spoken to me and didn’t want to take the chance he’d be standing right behind me, silently looking at my ass. Because then I might start laughing, and then he’d think everything was okay.

  This not-dating thing was a killer. If it had been any other guy on any other day, I’d have just left and chalked it up to him being an asshole and me not caring. But unfortunately, while I wasn’t paying attention, Declan and I had moved past that point.

  I was hoping. I wanted him to be following me, staring at my ass. I wanted him to apologize and go back to being the guy I thought he was. But I also didn’t want that. I also wanted this whole thing to stop, and for me not to care if he was objectifying me.

  Unfortunately, what happened was much, much worse than anything I’d imagined.

  I heard him whisper my name, felt his heat as he stepped closer to me, his breath sending ripples of goose bumps down my back. No part of him actually made contact with my body, but I could feel him in every cell.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not that kind of person.” I turned around, jerking backwards when I realized how close he actually was. “I don’t deliberately fuck with people. I would never go after one of your friends, knowing that you…” What was the right word? One that meant something without meaning too much. “That you think you want more from me.”

  “I don’t think that.”

  “Oh.” I squeezed my eyes shut in humiliation.

  “I know that. Which is why I was an idiot. A jealous idiot who assumed the worst because I was afraid—”

  “Of me?”

  He laughed. “No. As intimidating as you are, I’m not afraid of you. I was afraid I’d never get to talk to you again.
When I found out you were here, I thought, ‘This is my chance.’ But when I heard you’d left with Sam, I flipped. I thought…” He shook his head.

  “What?”

  “I’m in a band that’s doing pretty well. It’s hard for people to understand exactly what that means. But one thing that’s different now is the way women…” He cocked his head, probably weighing his words. “Women treat me differently now.” He chuckled. “At least I hope they don’t treat everyone the way they treat me.”

  Sam’s complaints came back to me—drummers don’t get the girls. Which meant lead singers probably did. And for some reason, Declan didn’t seem happy about it.

  “How do they treat you?”

  “As if they think all I want to do is party and fuck. As if I don’t have feelings or want more than that.”

  Was that why he didn’t tell me what he really did for a living?

  “When I heard you’d left with Sam, I figured that I was just something to cross off your to-do list—sleep with a guy in case his band gets famous.”

  “I didn’t leave with Sam. I waited for you with Sam. And I didn’t know about the band.”

  “I spoke to Carissa, Sara. I know she told you about me.”

  “Yeah. Yesterday. Right after she made me think you were a serial killer. She thought it was hysterical.”

  He paused to study my face, maybe judging my expression. I hoped he could recognize honesty because that’s all that would be there. Along with a little bit of hurt, I guess.

  “You really didn’t know about me or the band before yesterday.”

  “I really didn’t. And honestly, I don’t understand why you think it would be a big deal to me.”

  “Because it’s a big deal to everyone else. Big enough to make me shamefully paranoid that every woman I meet cares more about the band than about me. Then, when I finally meet someone I think I really like that paranoia makes me believe things that aren’t true and act like an asshole.”

  “Not sure if this will make you feel better or not, but it definitely should prove I didn’t know who you were.” I couldn’t believe I was about to tell him this. “Until I looked at the card with your name on it that morning...I wasn’t even sure if your name was Declan or Dylan.” I pretended not to notice how huge his eyes got, but inside, the humiliation was complete. “That karaoke bar was really loud and, once we left...I was too embarrassed to ask.”

  “Seriously, Sara?” He ducked his head down and laughed.

  “Yes, Dylan, seriously.”

  That only made him laugh harder. “You were right—that definitely proves it.”

  “The reason I went home with you was because you’re insanely hot and have a fantastically honest-looking smile. And there aren’t enough of those in the world.”

  He looked at me and proved my point. “Then why’d you run away so fast?”

  “You wouldn’t understand if I told you.”

  “I hate that answer. You won’t give me a chance because I don’t understand, but there’s no way I could understand because you’re not giving me a chance. So, who do you let in, Sara? Carissa? Assholes like Cal?”

  “Are you kidding? Carissa thinks I’m insane for not having already tattooed a flag with my name on it across your chest to claim you. And Cal?” Even his name left a bad taste in my mouth. “Cal has never understood a single thing about me.”

  “Can I at least know what the deal is with you two?” He caught my arm before I could get away, but his grip was light, as if he knew that being trapped was how I’d felt with Cal. “Is it his fault? Is he the one who fucked you over?”

  “I don’t want to talk about him.”

  “Then what do you want to talk about?”

  I shrugged. “Nothing.”

  “Yes, you do,” he said, “or you wouldn’t have come here tonight. One conversation. Sitting down in a quiet, public place. No fucking around. Just talking. Honestly. No judgment, no hiding, no shame.”

  “You mean, tell each other our deepest, darkest secrets?”

  He nodded slowly. “If you want, we can even do each other’s nails and talk about who we’re crushing on. But spoiler—I’m probably going to say you.”

  I would definitely say him. “Sounds like a blast, but I don’t think so.”

  “Come on, Sara. Don't you want to get out all the shit you’re pretending not to feel? If we both confess our”—he used air quotes—“‘deepest, darkest secrets,’ both of us have something to lose if someone blabs. Ladies first, except this time. I’ll start if it’ll make you more comfortable.”

  I looked away, not wanting him to know how tempted I was to say yes. To stop dancing around the truth and finally just admit it to someone.

  “Maybe the fact that we can’t affect each other’s lives right now is exactly the reason we could understand each other. We barely know each other, and nobody’s life will fall apart if we never see each other again, so why not at least try? What do we have to lose?”

  “Why do you want to know me so badly?”

  “Because I’m ninety-nine percent sure we’re both trying to hide in plain sight. So, we might be able to understand each other better than someone else ever could.”

  “What do you mean—hiding in plain sight?”

  “My guess is that you stick to one-night-onlys because you don’t care enough to have to pretend to be someone else. I think you’re afraid of giving me a chance because if I get to know you, you’ll have to start being that other person with me, too. So you stick to strangers because it’s the only time you don’t have to convince anyone that you’re the person they think you are.”

  He took a deep breath before continuing. “And even though our reasons aren’t the same, I feel exactly the same way. All I do is pretend. I work my ass off to convince other people that I’m someone I’m not, someone happy, someone who’s in control, someone who’s not scared shitless that he’ll spend the rest of his life pretending to be who everyone needs him to be.”

  He was right—he felt exactly the same way I did. He was just better at it, I guess.

  “I don’t have anyone to talk to, Sara. If I came clean, the lives of everyone around me would change. And that’s a shitload of pressure I don’t want.”

  “One conversation.” My voice was small, scared.

  “I’ll take it.” He took my hand and started walking.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Far enough away that we can talk without being interrupted.”

  19

  Sara

  The quiet, public place we went to talk turned out to be a complete dive that had probably never seen anyone under fifty...who’d taken a shower in the last two weeks.

  “Think we’ll see any of your friends in here?” Declan asked, holding the door open for me.

  “Doubt it.” When it came to men, Carissa’s standards were pretty low, but her credit card maximum expectations were high. “You?”

  “Nah. The place is too clean for my boys.”

  I groaned. “I just kissed one of your boys’ cheeks, so I hope you’re kidding.”

  At least the pub was quieter and the floor less sticky than the club we’d just left. Most of the patrons sat on stools around the bar. They all must have felt the sweep of colder air from outside at the exact same moment. Everyone turned to look at us in unison as if all of their necks were on the same track. Twenty seconds later, they all turned back to their drinks.

  No one spoke and, aside from the twenty seconds of interest they showed Declan and me, no one looked at anybody else. Maybe they were too busy staring into their drinks, almost all of which were pint glasses of beer at varying degrees of empty. Or full, I guess.

  “Go get us a table before they’re all gone,” Declan joked, nudging me forward with the hand on my lower back. It had felt so normal I hadn’t noticed it was there until it wasn’t. Shit. Everything about Declan confused me. Over the past year, I’d been hyperaware of every touch instigated by a man, accidental or d
eliberate. But somehow, my subconscious knew Declan could be trusted.

  A small group of men were playing pool in the back of the bar, near a dark hallway only slightly lit by the restroom sign hanging from the ceiling above it. These guys were nothing like those of my generation who yelled and danced around as if they’d just hit the final home run in the World Series versus managing to sink a two-inch ball into a pocket.

  These men were serious players with serious drinking problems who probably didn’t have much to celebrate. And now they were all staring at me. There was nothing that could stop a girl from needing to pee faster than the realization a trip to the bathroom would entail going into a dark hallway, right after walking past a group of depressed-looking, middle-aged alcoholics.

  I glanced toward the bar, trying to decide how long it would take Declan to run back after I yelled, “Help.”

  Declan ordered drinks while I grabbed a booth. I slid into one side and used an old napkin to wipe away the condensation circles left by whomever had been here last. Tons of empty tables, and someone else had chosen the same spot I did. I wonder if they were this uncomfortable, too.

  As soon as Declan turned around, a bottle in each hand and a grin on his face, my shoulders came down. How could someone who looked so much like a stereotypical bad boy onstage make me feel so safe? More often than not, men who looked that good were jerks because they could get away with it. And I doubt musicians even had to look that good to get away with being assholes. Declan was both damn good-looking and a musician, but I’d never seen kinder eyes or understated confidence.

  “Good choice,” he said, motioning to the booth. He set one of the bottles down in front of me and slid into the other bench seat. “I wasn’t sure you were a beer drinker, but it was the safest way to go. If you’d seen the glasses anything else would’ve come in, you’d be kissing me for getting you beer in a bottle.”

  I climbed onto my knees and leaned over the table to give him the kiss he’d mentioned, melting into him despite the atmosphere and the sounds around us. Every time we kissed, things got explosive really quickly, and neither of us could keep our hands to ourselves.