by K. A. Linde
“Before, when you weren’t home, we knew you were with Grant, and that was cute. Now, he’s gone, and you’re still never home. Plus, you walk around like a zombie, studying three times as hard as the old Aribel. Admittedly, it was hard to be around you in the beginning because you love him so much, and we’re all a bit heartbroken. But now, we’re worried!”
I stared at Cheyenne in stunned silence. Was I really like that? I didn’t want to stop to think about it, but I had been doing those things. I hadn’t thought about what it probably looked like from the outside.
“I miss him,” I said finally.
“We know. We can tell. Everyone can tell.”
My eyes shifted away from Cheyenne. I was embarrassed.
Great. Now, I was this poor sad girl, pining over her boyfriend.
Cheyenne gently put her hand on my shoulder. “He’s your first real boyfriend, who you care about, and now, you’re doing the long-distance thing. That can’t be easy. If we shut you out, it wasn’t intentional.”
“Well, I don’t want to be a zombie.”
“I suppose you’re a bit too much of a sarcastic bitch to be a zombie.”
“Oh, thanks.” I rolled my eyes.
Cheyenne laughed and shook her head. “Well, at least we’re talking again.” She grabbed something out of the kitchen. “Oh! I meant to give you this.” She placed a piece of paper in my hands. “Why didn’t you tell me Grant’s dad was in town?”
“What?” My head snapped up to hers.
“Yeah. He stopped by, looking for you. I told him you were out, so he gave me his number.”
My mouth dropped open. “He did…what?”
Cheyenne uncertainly looked at me. “Should I not have gotten his number?”
“Uh…no. You’re fine,” I forced myself to say. I swallowed back bile and tried to check my racing pulse. This couldn’t be happening.
“Well, cool. You’re pretty lucky if that’s what Grant is going to look like when he’s older.”
I stared at her in disbelief. How did she not see how crazy he was? “Thanks…I guess.”
“Welcome! Let’s hang out soon. I want to hear about all the phone sex you’re having.”
“Cheyenne!”
She just giggled maniacally and walked away. I couldn’t even muster up embarrassment at her jokes. I was too terrified over the fact that somehow Grant’s dad had tracked me down to my apartment.
How could he even have even done that? He didn’t even know my name.
Oh my God, was he really coming after me?
All Grant’s fears were coming true.
I didn’t hesitate this time. Grant didn’t want me to speak to the cops, but I wasn’t going to wait around and hope nothing happened. I had to take action, and I had to take it now for my own sanity.
It wasn’t really an emergency, so I opted out of dialing 911, and I called the local police department.
“Princeton Police, how can—”
“Yes, hi,” I interrupted before the person could finish the spiel. “My name is Aribel Graham. I’m a student at the university. My boyfriend’s father was recently let out of prison and is now stalking me. I believe he is dangerous, and I wanted to find out what I could do to get him to leave me alone.”
“Okay. Is this an emergency? Do we need to send someone over to your house?”
“No. He’s not here currently.”
“Are you safe at the moment?”
“Yes,” I answered. “I need to find out how to get him to leave me alone.”
“Hold one minute, and let me connect you to an officer.”
I waited for a solid ten minutes before a man got on the phone.
“Princeton Police.”
I repeated everything to him in a rush. I was anxious to get this figured out.
“How exactly has he stalked you?”
“I was at my boyfriend’s house, and he showed up while I was there. Then, without knowing who I am, he showed up at my apartment today while my roommate was home and left his phone number.”
“Has he tried to harm you in any way?”
“Well…no.”
“Have you tried to reach out to him to tell him to leave you alone?”
“No, but I told him to leave my boyfriend alone.”
“Has he threatened you?”
I sighed. “No! He hasn’t threatened me or attacked me or anything. He got out of prison after being in for thirteen years, and he is now trying to get a hold of my boyfriend. He keeps showing up and calling, and I don’t want it to keep happening.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but unfortunately, this seems to be a civil situation between a father and son. As long as he hasn’t threatened you or harmed you in any way, then we have no grounds to take this case forward. I would recommend speaking with him and trying to figure out what it is he wants and why he keeps showing up. If you’re not comfortable with that, then I suggest ignoring him. Please feel free to give us a call or have your boyfriend give us a call if you feel threatened.”
When I got off the phone with the police, I nearly threw it across the room in frustration. Grant was right again. The police were no use in this situation. And if something horrible did happen with his dad, then the police would be too late.
Most nights, the only time I wasn’t thinking about Ari and my dad would be those blissful sixty minutes when we were onstage. It was what made this tour worthwhile.
Other than the fact that I couldn’t handle the shit I needed to deal with at home, sitting on a tour bus with Donovan Jenkins was the worst part about this situation. I couldn’t fucking believe I’d ever been friends with the guy. Maybe I’d been into knowing someone kind of famous or some shit, but he was a total douche and not just to me. I supposed he had a reason to act like a jackass to me, but he was that way with everybody.
The other guys in The Drift referred to his shit attitude as PMS, but I’d never met a chick who constantly bitched like this. Apparently, I was the only one who called him out on his fucking attitude. Fame had gotten to his head, and his ego was an enormous inflated balloon flying off into space.
From listening to the guys in The Drift, I’d put bits and pieces together about him. They had all come from a poor suburb of D.C. A single mother had raised him and his three older sisters. Donovan was the one who had pushed them to get the band together, to become successful. Once they were signed and left D.C., Donovan turned into a total fuck-up.
I knew I was missing something about his past that had triggered that reaction, but I hadn’t figured out what it was. Until I did, I couldn’t fucking hurt him.
“Get out of the way,” Donovan said, bumping into my shoulder on his way to the backstage dressing room.
We were playing a show somewhere in backwoods West Virginia tonight, and I didn’t have the energy to put up with his bullshit.
“Fuck off, Donovan.”
He flipped me off. “I’ll save the fucking for your girlfriend’s pretty ass.”
I lost it. I was too pissed off about everything else, and we were living in close quarters, too close for me to handle this shit right now. I launched myself at Donovan. Grabbing him by the neck, I twisted him around and then slammed him down onto the floor.
“Don’t fucking talk about Ari, you piece of shit,” I growled.
“Get off of me, man!”
Miller and McAvoy came running. They hauled me off of Donovan while Vin laughed hysterically, and the guys from Donovan’s band tried not to laugh.
“You’re going to be so fucking over!” he said as he stood back up.
“Save your fucking breath. You might think your ass is hot shit, but it’s still just shit.”
Donovan shrugged and dusted off his pants. “I’m the only one over here doing anything of value anyway. I don’t have to listen to this shit.”
He turned around and walked into the dressing room. The door slammed in our faces, and I glared at it.
Prick!
“Do you hav
e to pick a fight with him all the time?” Miller asked.
“He fucking ran into me!”
Ridley and Trevor from The Drift wandered over and nodded at me.
“He deserved it,” Ridley said.
We fist-bumped.
“It’s nice to see someone who won’t take his shit,” Trevor said.
“What the fuck? How do you guys put up with him? Was he always this way?”
Trevor and Ridley shared a look.
Ridley was the leaner of the two, but he was tall and straight as a board. He even towered over me. Trevor was a stockier build, but he was a chick favorite. It had something to do with the gauges in his ears, his fauxhawk, and the intense tattoos covering both arms, his chest, and back. He was even more inked up than McAvoy.
“We don’t really talk about it,” Trevor said.
I was intrigued. “So?”
Ridley shrugged. “It’s not a big deal, but Donovan goes berserk over it. So, don’t bring it up.”
“All right,” I promised halfheartedly.
“He freaks over this girl he dated at home,” Trevor said. “They dated forever, but one day, when we went back out on tour, they split.”
“That’s the understatement of the century. They had a catastrophic breakup, one for the ages.”
“All this bullshit over a girl?” McAvoy asked in disbelief.
I’d have said the same thing a couple of months ago. McAvoy, having just broken up with his girlfriend over touring, couldn’t understand what they were saying. If Ari had broken up with me because of this tour, I’d never be the same. It didn’t make me feel sympathetic toward Donovan’s douche-bag behavior, but it did help me understand him a bit better.
“You guys don’t know Courtney,” Ridley said in response. “It was a fucking disaster.”
As we got ready for the show, I considered what the guys had told me. I wasn’t sure I liked having anything in common with Donovan fucking Jenkins. He was a tool. But I knew I’d be a goddamn mess without Ari.
“Bro, who knew there were so many hot chicks in West Virginia?” Vin asked, scanning the crowd from our viewpoint backstage.
I shrugged. I’d gotten used to singing Ari’s songs to a sea of girls who could never measure up to her. The crowd would go crazy for “Life Raft” since it was the only song they really knew of our music, but “White Hot” seemed to be the next best thing.
I wasn’t surprised. Everyone liked to sing about sex. I just wished I were getting some.
In fact, it was hard to fucking believe that I was the only fucking person on our bus not getting any—not that I didn’t have offers every night. Some of the girls who had thrown themselves at me were drop-dead gorgeous. I’d have given up a dozen chicks from home to bang one of these groupies. But I’d never give up Ari.
So, my dick stayed in my pants, except when I found time to masturbate. And on a tour bus with eight other dudes, that was pretty slim.
Our show went off without a hitch. It was nice to see more and more people knowing the words to our songs. Maybe what Hollis had told us was actually working. Once we had a real studio album, we’d be an overnight success. But until it happened, I wasn’t ready to believe him. I wanted it. I wanted it pretty fucking bad.
I wanted to be able to make something of myself, to prove that I was good enough and talented enough for someone like Ari, who was so smart, beautiful, and wealthy. It didn’t matter that I knew she didn’t care about that shit. I did. I cared.
“Killed it out there tonight,” Ridley said as he passed us backstage after the show.
“Thanks, man.”
“We have a night here in a real fucking hotel before we have to leave again tomorrow. You want to go out and party with us?”
I knew how hard The Drift partied, and for once, the thought of a soft bed beckoned to me more than some booze and watching my friends get some ass.
“I’m gonna pass.”
We fist-bumped.
“Just going to crash tonight.”
When I got back into the hotel room, I bolted the lock just in case and then called up Ari. She had told me that my dad had tried to reach out to her again sometime last week, but there had been no contact since then.
I always called her every night to hear her voice and make sure she was okay. But tonight, all I could think about was her wet pussy and the feel of it sliding around my dick.
“Hey, Princess,” I murmured into the phone.
“Grant, I miss you.”
“I miss you, too.”
“How was the show?”
“Good as always. Singing about sex with you to people all over the country makes me want to come home and fuck you.”
She laughed throatily. “I wouldn’t mind if you did that.”
“What would you want me to do?” I asked.
“Um…have sex with me?”
It was my turn to laugh. “I know. I mean, if I were there right now, tell me exactly what you’d want me to do.”
I’d tried to initiate phone sex in the past to no avail. She would get too embarrassed, and I wasn’t there to smile and coax the slutty nature out of her. Just hearing her mention sex made my dick throb.
“I…I don’t know, Grant. Kiss me.”
Well, that was further than I’d gotten before.
“Where?” I encouraged.
“Oh my God, Cheyenne asked me about phone sex earlier. I can’t believe you’re trying this.”
“Humor me, Princess. Cheyenne clearly knows the benefits. Now, I want you to go into your room, shut the door, turn off all the lights, and lie in bed.”
I waited a minute until she hesitantly told me that she had done it.
“Now, I’m not just kissing you. I’m running my stubbly jaw down the inside of your legs, kissing a soft trail downward. My hands are gripping the inside of your thighs. I’m squeezing your soft muscles and opening your legs before me, so I can see that soft wet pussy.”
She whimpered at my words. “Grant…”
“Feel what I did to you,” I encouraged.
I was sure as hell feeling it. I’d slipped my jeans and boxers on the floor. My dick was in my hand, and I was stroking it upward. Her whimper alone could almost make me pretend she was here, doing this for me.
“Are you wet?”
After a short pause, she answered, “Yes.”
“God, that’s hot. Are you swirling it around your clit? Imagining me doing it?”
She sighed heavily into the phone, and I pumped faster.
“I’m…I’m imagining you using your tongue. You’re so good at that.”
“Licking and sucking on you. Pressing my fingers up inside you. Curling my fingers against you until you’re bucking underneath me.”
“Yes,” she purred.
She still sounded hesitant, but I fucking wasn’t.
“Tell me what you want.”
“You, um…let me finish before hovering over me and rubbing yourself against me.”
“Oh God,” I groaned, leaning over the bed.
I could just imagine it now—her touching herself in the dark, thinking about me sliding my dick across the opening to her pussy. I picked up the pace as the image flooded my mind.
“Then, you don’t hold back. You just shove into me. Take me.”
“I sure fucking do. I pump into you over and over again. Hard and rough just like you like it.”
“Mmm…” she moaned.
I was getting close to orgasm already at the sound of her voice and the skill of my hand. If only she were here to finish me off…
“You flip me over,” she said quietly.
“So, I can fuck you from behind,” I said in admiration.
“My face is…is buried in the pillows.”
“Ass up in the air as I drive into you. I feel you tightening around my cock.”
“And then I…” She trailed off.
“Oh God, Ari. Come. Say come.”
She made some soft mewling sounds tha
t sounded as if she was close, and I could barely hold on.
“Come,” she finally said. “You make me come.”
Hot cum squirted out of me as I did just that.
Fuck!
It ran down my hand as I emptied myself at the sound of her voice. It was so sexy, hearing her talk to me like that. My whole body shook as I imagined her coming with me. I fucking hoped she was getting off on the other line.
When I finally finished, I lay back in the bed, spent and dying to feel her beside me. “I wish you were here for this,” I told her.
“You’ll be home soon, and I’ll let you try all of that.”
“It’s a date.”
Finals approached almost without warning.
One minute, I was writing out bio labs, working out equations for calculus, and trying to figure out how to boost my O-chem grade, and the next, I was frantically cramming for finals.
I’d been spending more time with the girls lately. Gabi finally seemed to be recovering. Though, sometimes, I would still see her wistfully look at my phone when a text came in from Grant. But the girls were supportive, and it was nice to have them back. But we’d barely had any time to spend together since finals started. We were all running around like chickens with our heads cut off.
I barely even had time to plan for my trip back to Boston after the semester. I was very happy the trip would coincide with ContraBand’s tour stop in the city. Grant would even have a whole day off after the show, so we could spend time together. For me, that meant taking the plunge and introducing him to my parents.
Grant was pretty freaked out about it, but he seemed to be weighing that against finally getting to see me again, and he found it to be an acceptable trade. I was way more scared about the upcoming introductions. I knew my parents. I knew my brother. I already knew what they would think about Grant. Dismissing him as a phase was the nicest thing that could happen.
But I decided not to care.
I knew Grant wasn’t a phase. I knew I wanted a future with him. Even though the music industry was cruel, touring would keep us apart, and a million girls were throwing themselves at him, I thought we could make it.
