I turn to her. "You know, you've picked up some serious sarcasm skills, yoga-girl."
For a moment she looks like she might snap; her eyes give her away. Then she deflates, sighing. "Fine. I'm jealous. Happy?"
"No!"
She points toward the stage where he's waiting for me, his arm still extended. "Go."
"I can't." Literally, I can't force my feet to move.
"Cassidy, just go." Teagan shoves me again, this time hard enough that I fly forward. Out from the wings and onto the stage where I skid to a stop.
Well fuck.
The lights are blinding and I'm squinting and people are screaming and then I feel Luca take my hand and some of the overstimulation recedes a bit. Still, my breath comes in shaky and leaves even shakier. I don't know where to look. The lights make it almost impossible to see the audience in front of us. Maybe that's a good thing.
He leans in, placing his mouth beside my ear. "You okay?"
All I can do is nod.
He gestures to a roadie waiting on the opposite side of the stage who rolls out a tall, black chair. Luca walks me toward it, leaning in again to tell me to take a seat. It's none too soon, to be honest, as my legs are going all to jelly.
He nods, once, and puts the microphone back to his mouth. "Let's give it up to my girl, Cassie!"
More screaming. I…can't still my pulse enough to make any of this feel real. I catch eyes with Polly and she drops her gaze, fiddling with her guitar.
Then Luca starts to sing, and everything else fades away.
He's right in front of me, literally serenading me, but I can't meet his eyes. I watch his hand around the microphone. I study the black ink tattoos lining his forearm and traveling up under the short sleeve of his shirt.
I want to lick him from wrist to shoulder.
Then I listen to his words, and that desire deepens to the point I have to cross my legs to keep from jumping off the chair and onto him.
Slick sweat
Rough
Without rhythm and yet
a harmony all its own
Dark room
Copper heat
She scrapes and comes away
with a layer of his skin
under her chipped paint nails,
with the whisper of his voice
in her ears
She needs more.
She needs more.
He needs more.
Twisted sheets
Tangled legs
Skin to skin
The hardest thing she ever did
was never let it happen
The hardest thing she ever did
was never let it happen
One night with him
What would've been
What could've been
At the exact moment Luca finishes singing? Yeah, fireworks boom above the stage. I forgot it's the Fourth of July. He stands still, staring at me, the bright flashes of whites and reds above us illuminating his face. The dry, sulfured smell of the explosions drifts in the air around us and the crowd is still screaming and I can't look away from him.
See, his expression seems to say, see how far I'm willing to go for you? And, yes, my heart quickens in my chest, responding, yes, I see. A moment later, he holds his hand out to me and helps me out of the chair and off the stage. A quick squeeze of my fingers and then he's back to performing, belting out the start of "Born for America," another old song and another one the crowd goes nuts for.
The rest of the concert goes by like a dream. My ears stop working and—from the music I know is loud to the excited questions and exclamations from Teagan and Vera beside me—everything reaches me in the form of an echo, like there's cotton in my ears. My face is frozen, too, so even if I could hear my friends, I doubt I could move my mouth to answer them.
Marx comes to get us as Gold Rush Standard closes their set, and I follow him without a word. Teagan and Vera, however, have plenty of words and at some point I begin responding to them, though I can't, for the life of me, recall a single thing that's been said after Marx drops me off in Luca's dressing room.
I sink, slowly, onto one of Luca's couches and work hard to compose myself before he gets here. I almost succeed.
He walks into the room, whistling a jaunty little melody, lifting his chin in greeting when he sees me. "Hey, you."
"That was a little heavy handed out there." Good. Sarcasm is much stronger than I thought I'd be capable of. Because holy hell my entire body feels numb, frozen. A part of me thinks I should be swooning, melting into his arms right now. Another part wants to slap him for coming on so strong. But…I'm too overwhelmed to make much sense of anything. I sink back further into the couch, the leather cool against the backs of my arms.
"Is that all you have to say?" he asks, a cocky smile across his lips. Between the look on his face and the sweat glistening sexily on his brow and the way he just completely rocked on stage for the rest of the concert, I'm tongue-tied all over again.
"Yep," is all I can manage. Damn. And I started so strong.
"Come on, Cass. You loved it." He steps toward me, but my limbs are made of jitters and he's too close for me to think and so I flee to the other side of the room. I lean against the dressing table, facing the long mirrors lining the wall. In them, my eyes are wide and still a little shocked. My cheeks are pink, though, and there's a coil of excitement in my belly.
In the mirror, my gaze meets his. "I'm sure I'll never forget it."
"So tell me, then. Are you going to always wonder what could've been? Or are you going to come with me?"
I don't answer.
He takes a few steps toward me, stopping when my shoulders tense. "Cassie. You don't need to be so freaked out."
But I am freaked out—and with good reason.
I…I kind of want to go for it, to leave with Luca and get swept away in the tour.
It's crazy, though, to think like this.
I tuck a few stray blonde strands behind my ears and turn around to face him. "Of course I need to be freaked out. What you did out there—what you're suggesting now…it's a bit much."
"I know this is all kind of quick, but we leave tomorrow at the crack of dawn for Tennessee. I don't have enough time to convince you with subtlety." He crosses the rest of the room and grabs my hands. "Come to Nashville with me."
"If I go with you, I'm basically making myself your mistress."
His eyebrows rise and he cracks half a smile. "Rock mistress. Kind of an awesome title."
"Luca."
"It doesn't have to be like that. I told you I would find a job for you."
I shake my head.
"Would being by my side really be that bad?"
I…don't know how to answer him. Because a part of me—a large part of me—doesn't think it would be.
I could be in Tennessee tomorrow.
I could be in Tennessee tomorrow without a care in the world.
I could be in Tennessee tomorrow without a care in the world—and getting to spend my nights with Luca freaking James.
My system is circling panic and excitement and desire so quickly I can't tell which is which and I'm starting to feel a little nauseated.
Not the best time to kiss me, but Luca does it anyway. And surprisingly, the nausea fades.
His mouth tastes sweet and his lips are gentle on mine. Something lightens in my chest, but it makes me think of Gage for some reason and anxiety brings the nausea right back.
Damn it.
I break the kiss, but Luca doesn't let go of my hands. "Stay tonight, at least," he says. "Come to the hotel—your friends will be there. See what it's like. Let me…work to convince you."
I wish Gage would get out of my head because I'd really like a clear space to imagine just how Luca would work to convince me. But he doesn't. His face swims behind my eyes and I can't keep standing here with my hands in Luca's.
He's right about Teagan and Vera. Norris invited Teagan before the concert even started and she, in turn, invited
me and Vera. They'll be expecting me—they're probably waiting in the band's dressing room right now. But they're going to have to keep waiting. "I have to go."
Now he untangles his fingers from mine, disappointment flashing in his eyes and maybe a little anger, too. "Just like that?"
"I need to think." It's not a lie.
"You're not coming." He moves away from me.
"I didn't say that." But my gut tells me he's right.
When I don't step toward him, the corners of his mouth twist down. He gestures toward the door. "It's been nice knowing you. Even for just a few days."
"Don't be like that."
"Don't leave."
"God, Luca." The emotions of the day, of the summer, of my life, really, hit their max and I'm suddenly stunned with anger. "You don't know me. You have no right to get upset that I'm not dropping my entire life to go on some rock star road trip with you. I mean, do you have any idea how ridiculous you are?"
"No," he says, his own eyes flashing, "I don't. Excuse me for being so inept, but I don't usually have to try this hard."
Ugh. "Well maybe you should go find someone who won't make you try. I'm sure you could have girls lined up for miles." I blow past him, toward the door. But when I get there, when my hand grabs the handle, I deflate. What am I doing? I can't storm out like this. Not if it's the last time I'll ever see him.
I turn around, and Luca's right behind me.
"I'm sorry." He shakes his head. "I didn't mean to be such a dick."
I lift a shoulder, let it drop. "This is all very weird."
"At least let me put my number in your phone, in case you change your mind." He holds out a hand. I fish through my bag and give him my phone, taking it back after he's entered his information. And then it's a big old bucket of awkward as we stand in silence.
I try to smile, but only half my mouth complies. "Well, I guess—"
"Don't let this be the last time I get to see you," he pleads.
Then he kisses me quickly and pushes me out the door.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
I make it all the way to my car before the dreamlike haze lifts. I can't believe I just left Luca James alone in his dressing room. I can't believe I walked away from him.
Jesus.
My phone vibrates and my first thought is that it's him, telling me to come back. But he doesn't have my number.
It's Teagan asking where I am and if I'm going to the hotel party. I add Vera to the conversation so she'll know, too, and begin to text them with an explanation—but I'm interrupted by another incoming text.
It's Gage.
Asking to see me.
I text back, Your place or mine?
Because I need to see him.
I need to weigh what I feel when I'm with him.
And I need to hear from his mouth what's going on with Zoey.
I park across from his house and force myself to get out of my car. It takes a couple minutes.
He opens the door to let me in, but I stay standing where I am. So does he. "I didn't think you would come."
"Why?" I don't know how to shape my tone. Accusatory? Guilty? Instead the word come out fragile, hollow.
"I saw you on stage."
Shit.
"Well I saw you. I stopped by earlier, before work." Now my words are sharp, defensive. "I saw you kissing Zoey."
"You did? You were here?" Shock levels his features. "I wasn't kissing Zoey—I broke it off. I didn't kiss her back. I didn't even want to."
"You cupped her face. You pulled her into your house." It's humid and sticky standing here on his porch, but I can't make myself step through the door. "Don't lie to me. I know I haven't been the best…friend, or whatever the hell I am to you, but at least I've been honest."
"Friend? Jesus." He shoves a hand through his hair. "I invited her in because she was crying. I gave her a glass of water—what should I have done, Cassidy? Laughed and shut the door in her face?"
"No," I admit, hating it. I want to ask why she was crying. I wish I didn't care. "But you were late to work, so you obviously stayed with her. I need to know. Did you do it to get back at me—or because you still want to be with her? Because if it's the first, that's really shitty. If it's the second…well, that's all I need to know."
Neither answer will make me happy, though. And my heart is pounding so hard in my chest I feel like I might throw up. All while at the back of my mind I know I have no right to even question him anymore.
But he shakes his head and steps out onto his porch to join me. "I was with Katy, driving her back to my parents' place. Zoey stayed for maybe ten minutes."
"Katy was here while Zoey came in?" Great.
"So what?"
"Nothing," I snap. "I just… She loves Zoey and doesn't like me."
"Wait—you're jealous?" Something in his expression lightens, but only for a moment. "Zoey isn't a part of Katy's life anymore. Their relationship was complicated at best, before Zoey…" He shrugs away whatever else he was going to say.
I'm more curious about what happened with Zoey now than ever, but I don't have the right to ask. Instead, I repeat myself, feeling stupid but unable to keep the words from falling out of my mouth. "Well, she still doesn't like me."
"She's fifteen. She barely likes anyone. She's—we're all—having a kind of rough time right now." Gage holds out his hand. "And there's nothing going on with Zoey."
"I believe you." I do. But my heart feels sliced in two at the memory of the tenderness with which he handled her. Whatever their history is, however she hurt his family, maybe they're better together.
Maybe I should take myself out of the equation.
"Cassidy." He extends his fingers farther. "Come in."
And even though I take his hand, even though I let him pull me inside, my heart rips a little further down its seam. Because I don't think this is going to end well.
I can't decide which scenario is more selfish. Leaving Gage to go with Luca. Or staying without the ability to give Gage what he deserves?
"Listen." I tug his hand to stop us in the hallway. "Luca wants me to go on tour with him."
He stares at me, blankly, and I don't think my words are registering.
Then his face pales, and guilt becomes a sledgehammer against my ribs.
"It's weird," I say. "I know…"
"You're thinking about going."
"I don't…I'm not sure." Except I think I am.
Now his eyes narrow. "He's the one who kissed you."
I don't say anything. It takes everything I have not to hang my head.
"Cassidy, don't." He squeezes the hand he's still holding. "I'll fight for you, if you need me to. Just tell me how to do it without crossing one of the borders you have up. There's nothing to worry about with Zoey. I know I told you before that I still care for her but I don't, not anymore. What I used to feel is gone. There's no room—you fill me too completely."
"I believe you." I step toward him. I want to erase the sadness in his eyes. I want to kiss it away. "But, Gage, I can't keep—"
"You're not going to run off with some rock star—especially Luca James," he says. "You're better than that."
"Better than that? What does that even mean?" I'm rankled by the censure in his words. Then I take a closer look at the hint of shock still sitting across his features, and my irritation disappears as quickly as it came. I don't have a leg to stand on here. I'm the one in the wrong. "This is too complicated."
"It's not." He shakes his head. "This is simple. Just you and me. Don't go, Cassidy. Stay here. With me."
Choose Gage.
Of course I can't go with Luca. That's why I ended up here tonight. Gage is real. He wants all of me, even if I can't offer him everything. To Luca I'm a shiny new toy. He wants me now, but I won't mean anything to him in the end. He'll never have my heart, either. Nothing between us would matter.
But Gage…
Gage says there's no room for anyone else with him—that I fill him too co
mpletely.
"Don't run away from this."
"I…" I don't know what to say. He's got me pegged—because that's exactly what I've been doing. Setting myself up with an escape route by way of Luca James. A way to run from life again.
I stare at Gage—really study him. Something about him pulls at me. The way he looks. The sound of his voice. The shape of his heart. Something yanks at center of my belly, making me want to jump across the doorway and into his arms. Into his bed. Into anywhere he wants to take me.
It's intense.
I could end up loving this guy. If I stay with him, this could be something real.
Maybe he knows what I'm thinking, because relief relaxes his face.
And when he leans in to kiss me, I open my mouth to let him in.
I tug on the chest of his shirt to pull him closer and when he holds my face in his hands, it's so sweet I almost cry.
Guilt shoves its way between us, though, pushing me a step back. "I can't do this, Gage. I can't be what you want."
"I won't ask you to be anything you can't."
"But you do," I tell him. "And you should. You deserve—"
"I want you. In whatever way I can have you."
"I need to go." I should turn and walk away. Now. Before it's too late.
But I can't.
"Just stay tonight," he says. "See how you feel in the morning."
"I'm not going to sleep with you." God. Why would I say that?
"You think I give a shit about that right now?" He gives an angry jerk of his head. "Just stay. We'll figure everything out in the morning—or, we'll just go with it from there, okay? No pressure. But don't leave."
And I cave.
How could I not?
The next morning, I wake up before the sun, on my usual side of the bed, and am careful not to disturb him when I rise. I watch him sleep for a moment, the still-darkened room casting shadows across the angles that make up his face, and I'm struck again with how easy it could be to love him. I think…I think I'm halfway there already.
Starstruck (Rock & Release, Act II) Page 11
