Sweet Ache

by K. Bromberg

  My smile comes naturally while my synapses start to fire as I try to place a comment that Layla made the other night in our drunken state about how she’d love to see Bent play this weekend at a local concert. And there’s no way my luck can be so shitty that my date is taking me to see the man I’m wishing he was, perform.

  “Sounds like fun—who’s performing?” I’m on a fishing expedition; I just hope he doesn’t notice.

  “Shit, you name it, they’re performing. The D-Bags, Bending Cupid, the Mighty Storm, Black Falcon, and my fav band is, like, the main headliner: Bent.”

  There you have it. How did I know he was going to say Hawkin’s band? I smile enthusiastically and say something about how exciting and what great bands while my mind rationalizes that it’s a concert where thousands of people will attend. I’ll be so far away from Hawkin that I should be able to keep my libidinous thoughts under control with so much distance between us.

  “And even better,” he continues as we pull into the Staples Center, “we have backstage passes to the postshow meet and greet for the Bent guys.”

  And the hits just keep on coming.

  Luke keeps talking incessantly, chattering away about his favorite songs of each band as well as random trivia about each one as we make our way into the arena. Each step closer we get, my anticipation increases. Those fluttery feelings I was missing when he touched my knee are finally making their presence known and it’s all because of the man awaiting us inside.

  “You’re being so quiet, is everything okay?” he asks, concern lacing his voice as he stops me in the darkened shadows of the facility.

  “Yes! I’m just so surprised by all of this.” All the while I chastise myself for being so caught up in my own head and so selfish that I’m not doing the one thing I promised myself I would, leave Hawkin behind for the night.

  And so maybe that’s why Luke catches me off guard when he leans forward and brushes his mouth against mine. My startled gasp parts my lips and he mistakes the action for wanting more, and he takes complete advantage of my reaction by slipping his tongue gently between them. I react in reflex, not really urging him on but not being a dead fish either, because I’m not exactly sure how I’m supposed to react short of pushing him away. He’s been nothing but polite and I don’t want to ruin the evening with him but at the same time don’t want to encourage him either.

  The kiss ends quickly because being the gentleman he is, he keeps the first one as a way to gauge my interest and I’m hoping by my lack of enthusiastic reciprocation he might get the hint. A girl can hope anyway, because the thing is, Luke’s kiss was soft and taunting; it should call to my desire on every level … but the fluttering I feel at the mere thought of Hawkin just doesn’t compare to anything with Luke.

  Luke smiles softly, a silent affirmation that yes, we did just kiss, and then links his fingers with mine as we enter the arena and prepare to hear the bands.

  The concert so far has been great. Our seats are incredible, located just a few rows back from center stage. I’ve been able to push Hawkin from my mind and enjoy Luke. I’ve laughed with him, danced with him in the confines of our close quarters, and sang at the top of my lungs to the lyrics of each set. But now shouts of increasing volume pierce the air as the crowd waits for the final band to take the stage, Bent.

  And I can’t help that I purposefully occupy my hands so Luke can’t hold one of them as I prepare for the visceral reaction I expect to have to the sight of Hawkin. As the anticipation builds I can feel my legs leaning forward to try to coax him to come into view, my need to lay eyes on him increasing with each passing second like an addict knowing her next fix is just within reach.

  And then his voice comes through the speakers as a single spotlight lights up the empty stage. A frenzy ensues all around us as women begin shrieking in epic decibels so that I can’t hear his voice but can feel it somehow. The crowd must feel the same way because the shrieks calm just in time for him to hit the first chorus.

  You killed my heart.

  You snuffed it out.

  You stole my hope.

  He sings the notes to their biggest hit, “Stolen,” and even though the fangirls are on an ecstatic high, the power of his voice a cappella silences them. Goose bumps chase over my skin despite the stifling heat of the arena. I’ve heard the song a hundred times on the radio and yet the raw emotion when he sings, like he’s scraping the words from his core, captivates me.

  The lights flood the stage in a blaze of brightness, and Hawkin stands there, head down, foot tapping, a striking profile dressed in dark clothing against all of the light. He slowly lifts his head to end the chorus and the guys kick in with their instruments.

  And I’m lost.

  I know he’s entertaining thousands and has no clue I’m even here and yet I feel, as he peers into what I’m sure is a mass of blinding light on his end, that he’s looking straight into me.

  I tell myself to move, to dance and not act like I’ve just been struck by lightning, because as much as I’m electrified by him on stage in front of me, I did come here with Luke. And I might be a bitch for wanting Hawkin while I’m on a date with someone else but Luke’s a good guy, we’re just not right for each other.

  “He has an incredible voice, doesn’t he?” Luke says above the music, breath hot against my ear. I nod at him with a smile on my face before making the concerted effort to not just stand there.

  Soon enough the song ends with a melancholy note in Hawke’s voice that’s almost haunting as his voice rounds out the solo. The crowd erupts into a riotous frenzy all around.

  “Los Angeles!” His voice booms into the microphone. “How the fuck are you?” If I thought the screams were loud before, they are deafening now. He chuckles suggestively into the mic and—I’m sure like every other female in this arena—I feel like it caresses my skin and wraps hold of me. Screams of “I’d rather be fucking you” ring out and I bristle at the comments while he plays right into them. “Hey, I’m all for that babe but I’ve got a few more songs to sing before my mouth can be otherwise occupied.”

  Vince walks over to him and hands him a beer and they tap the necks together while more women scream, plus a few bras and panties hit the stage. I scoff at the desperation to be Hawkin’s just-for-the-night-girl and wonder why the hell am I getting miffed at something he sees all the time. I mean shit, how can I even think he still wants me when he can have his pick of women.

  I’d rather be eating you out instead….

  His words rush back and give me a slight feeling of advantage since at least I know he was talking directly to me. This sense of sudden insecurity and inadequacy I feel is ridiculous.

  “Settle down ladies, the men in the house need to retain their hearing so they can hear you screaming their names later if you catch my drift.” He gives that lazy, lopsided smirk that makes my body respond to him instantly, even though I know better than to want him.

  “Hey, Hawke, that man back there,” Gizmo says into the mic, pointing with his drumsticks from behind his set, “says thank you.”

  The crowd laughs as Hawkin motions with his hands for everyone to settle down. “On a serious note, I want to thank you all for coming here tonight for a cause that’s near and dear to my heart. Your tickets will benefit research to help our grandparents and parents and hopefully find a cure for this ugly disease before it can affect us. So thank you so very much for coming tonight and helping us donate all of the proceeds to this worthy cause.”

  The crowd erupts in cheers.

  “Okay, so Noel and Kellan and Wethers already sang their asses off for you, now you ready for Bent to end the night with a bang?” The screams erupt again. “C’mon boys, let’s rock!”

  My ears are still ringing as we fight our way opposite the crowd leaving the arena. Luke holds my hand as he leads me backstage and into a holding room of sorts where a few other ecstatic fans are practically vibrating with anticipation.

  I’m antsy too but for comple
tely different reasons.

  Luke is rocking on his heels like a little kid and it really is endearing to witness. “Oh my God,” he says, pointing down a hallway where a mob of men are walking. “That’s Black Falcon…. Noel, Riff …” His voice fades off as he smiles sheepishly. “Do you follow them?”

  I shake my head no. “They were really good, though…. I’ll probably start now.” The comment earns me a huge grin.

  Chatter in the room pulls our attention back and when I look up, I’m staring straight into Vince’s eyes from across the room. And then a slow, sly smile slides across his lips before he shakes his head and looks away. It’s only a momentary connection before he focuses his attention on the two fans in front of him but even in that quick glance, there’s so much exchanged between us: What the hell? You’re with him?

  I’m confused by the whole exchange but luckily Luke caught none of it that I can tell.

  We wait as Vince makes his way around the room. I fidget restlessly, nervous that Vince is going to acknowledge me and then I’ll be left to explain to Luke that I’ve met him before when I’ve made no mention of it tonight. I track his progress and when it comes to us, he stares a beat longer than normal. “Hi,” he finally says.

  “Hi,” we both say at the same time and Luke apologizes for talking over me.

  Vince chuckles and looks me in the eyes again. “Sorry for staring,” he says, “you remind me of a girl I know named Trixie.”

  Inwardly I sag in relief at his comment, a nervous chuckle escaping my lips as I avert my gaze, and mutter, “No.” And thankfully Luke takes over, oblivious to the awkwardness of the moment, and begins to rain praise on Vince over his bass-playing skills. I wonder and yet am at the same time glad that Vince didn’t call me out on knowing him or the rest of the band. I’m curious over it but tune their conversation out and glance back down the hallway where the Black Falcon boys had left, not sure what I’m looking for.

  An escape? For Hawkin? Not for Hawkin?

  Whatever it is I don’t find it but when I look back into the room, there he is. Hawkin has on a white shirt that’s sticking slightly to him as if he just got out of the shower and rushed to dry off. His hair’s wet and a beer is in one hand while an arm is slung casually around the shoulders of a woman next to him.

  Every instinct within me hones in on Hawke.

  The woman stands on her toes and kisses him haphazardly on the side of his mouth, her body rubbing up against him way more than the action deserves, and I see hussy written all over her. I hope he sees it too.

  Of course he sees it. That’s why his arm’s wrapped around her.

  How was I so stupid to convince myself that he wasn’t a player? That he really wanted me? That he would take my no-nonsense complicated over her no-hassle-spread-her-legs simplicity?

  Her other friend sidles up next to them and they place something in his hand with flirty little giggles that are so pathetic they make my ovaries cringe. He looks down at his hand and arches his eyebrows. He says something that earns him another set of giggles that not surprisingly make their proffered cleavage jiggle up and down.

  I’m pretty sure it’s a hotel key with an offer for double your pleasure, double your fun. Ugh.

  Hell, most of the time I’m game for anything and would never judge someone else but something about the setting, about the random offer, about the whole damn situation is rather disturbing to me. Maybe it’s the fact that knowing the person for a whole five minutes before sex is offered is of importance. Call me crazy.

  I’m distracted from the eye-roll-worthy display when Luke puts his hand on my waist and pulls me into his side. I didn’t even realize that Vince had moved on to the next fan. “That was so fucking cool!” he exclaims squeezing me in tighter. He starts rambling on and on and I look up to watch the animation on his features as he talks.

  And then his voice falls quiet when he notices the lead singer mere feet away from us. I follow his gaze to find mine locked with Hawkin’s.

  I swear my breath is stolen momentarily; all I know is I have to tell myself to draw in air from the quizzical look he gives me, a mixture of surprise, disbelief, and you’re with him?

  Luke lifts his chin to Hawkin in an I’m-a-cool-guy kind of way and Hawke pulls his eyes from mine and acknowledges him with his own head tilt. He glances back to me and I just shake my head subtly as my eyes flicker to the road-hos beside him, my lips pursed in judgment. I know he reads the disdain in my eyes and yet his arms remain on the women.

  As our connection is broken, one last glare passes between us—I know why I’m glaring but am unsure why he’s pissed—when one of them asks for an autograph. I watch the three of them separate as Hawkin reaches for his beer with one hand and slides the hotel room card in his back pocket, which of course begs my eyes to take in the way the denim frames his ass.

  He grabs the Sharpie offered and smiles big for the camera phone as he signs across the top of the woman’s right breast. I watch, not surprised by the behavior of some of the women as he moves on from group to group greeting them, because it’s not like I haven’t seen women throw themselves at a man before. The difference is this time it’s not my dad or my brother, it’s the man I want.

  Or rather the man I wanted before I saw this behavior. I get it’s part of his job, but after Delta Sig and now the boobsie-twins, I’m determined to keep telling my hormones to quit humming over him.

  I watch another woman offer herself to him, dignity obviously a foreign concept to her, and I look up to Luke. “I’m going to run to the bathroom really quick.”

  “What?” His eyes are wide and he shakes his head back and forth. “You might miss meeting Hawkin Play!”

  “I’ll be back in time,” I tell him, secretly hoping I won’t. “Don’t worry, all that beer is hitting me all of a sudden.”

  I can see an internal tug-of-war going on within Luke. “Let me take you.”

  And I realize he’s trying to be a gentleman and take me even though it means possibly missing meeting Hawke. Why can’t I feel that buzz for this man and his considerate ways? Maybe it’s one of those things that takes time when it comes to him. I wish I believed that.

  “No. Really. I’ll be fine. I don’t want you to miss meeting Hawke in case I don’t make it back in time.”

  “You sure?” His hesitancy speaks volumes of his character as a man.

  “I’m sure.”

  When I start to walk away, Luke calls my name. “Quin?”

  I turn to find his mouth meeting mine. It’s a soft gentle brush of lips that he takes a bit further before stepping back. “Thanks for tonight. I’m having so much fun.”

  I smile gently at him and nod my head, wishing I felt something more for him than just platonic warmth. I turn to go and in my periphery see Hawkin standing there, ignoring the women at his side to watch me.

  I quickly avert my gaze and hustle down the hallway where I ask a roadie on the way where the nearest bathroom is. I’m confused and sick of the tumultuous feelings that are so foreign to me, the back and forth between sense and lust, head and heart, desire and prudence.

  I go through a doorway that leads me into a dressing area of sorts and see the partially opened bathroom door across the room. I have my hand on it, pushing it open timidly, making sure that it’s not occupied when all of a sudden a larger hand slams the door open from behind me.

  A startled gasp falls from my lips as I’m jolted forward from the connection of our bodies. He pushes his way into the bathroom and then slams the door behind me.

  I know I should be scared shitless, yet not an ounce of fear falls over me because every attuned nerve in my body senses it’s Hawkin. It’s the heady buzz and fluttering in my stomach that I get every time he’s near that gives it away.

  This. This feeling is what I should feel for Luke, but don’t.

  “Do you have any idea how hot you are?” He growls the words in my ear, the heat of his breath against my skin. “I can’t take my eyes of
f you. You want me just as bad and yet you don’t want him to know that you’re going home with me tonight do you?”

  Every part of me lights up in relief at his statement but at the same time I can’t just up and leave my date. I may be a bitch for wanting Hawkin while I’m with Luke but I’m not that cold-hearted. “I can’t,” I tell him, voice strained with the desire I feel coursing through me, an obvious tell to him how I feel.

  “Can’t and want are two different things,” he says, “and I’m not accepting a no.”

  I shake my head to contradict him, the “No” about to pass over my lips as he spins me around, backing me up not so gently against the door, and before I can even meet Hawkin’s eyes, his mouth is on mine. I don’t have time to think, only react, and oh how I react.

  We become a mass of hands groping, lips bruising, and tongues tasting in a savage union of frustrated lust. Nothing is static for more than a beat as we try to feel our way into each others’ lives. His hand squeezing my ass. My nails digging into his biceps. Teeth nipping lips followed by not so soothing licks because we are so desperate to claim and tempt and take.

  All I can think of is more—all I want is more. I know minutes must pass but I swear it feels like fleeting seconds before he drags his lips from mine so that he can stare into my eyes, his labored breaths panting over my lips, swollen from his kiss. “You can tell me no all you want, Q. You can push me, pull my hair … bite me even … but you can’t deny that you want me as much as I want you.”

  His words are an incendiary match to the emotions simmering within me. I want to act on them, but he’s just annihilated my wits with his mouth—words and kisses. I shake my head side to side as I try to process, not realizing that he thinks I’m disagreeing. Before I can speak he leans in closer and says, “Make me believe you don’t want me.”

  In a heartbeat his mouth is back on mine with a volatile intensity that even if I wanted to resist, I wouldn’t be able to. My body tingles with need to the point where I feel like I can never get enough of him.