by Reid, B. B.
My reaction was visceral.
His promise melted into my skin, burrowing through bones and seizing my heart, gut, and lungs until it set me on fire. I wanted it that much.
Unfortunately, I was wiser now.
“I’m sure you really believe that, Loren, but I played this hand before and lost everything,” I said, speaking the language a gambling addict would understand. “You already hate me when I haven’t given you a reason. If we sleep together, you’ll finally have one.”
He stared down at me a long while, turning over my words before tossing them away. “Try me.”
A frustrated sound slipped from my lips. “I can’t, Loren. Did you forget we work together? It’s too messy.”
“Sex usually is. With me, it most definitely will be.” I didn’t respond. When it became clear I wouldn’t fall for his bait, he sighed and straightened before taking a step back. “Wait here.”
I stayed put as he told me, which was easy since I couldn’t trust my legs right now. I needed to find a bathroom to clean up. Removing my thong wasn’t possible, thanks to my decision to wear this dress. It didn’t matter because Loren returned moments later.
“Let’s go.”
He barely looked at me before starting down the hall and effectively ending what I still maintained was not a date. I also realized this was the second time in a single day that I turned him down. I refused to feel guilt when I knew I was doing the right thing.
The disappointment? That, I allowed myself to feel.
If Loren and Braxton had intended to hide whatever happened between them, they were doing a shit job. To start, it was hard to ignore them disappearing inexplicably only to return hours later. Together. I was still obsessing over the vision Braxton made in that sequin dress and whether she’d worn it for Loren.
Houston was still at their throats even though it’s been two days. He knew they’d been up to no good too, but what pissed him off was knowing there was nothing he could do about it.
Of course, the only one who seemed guilty was our guitarist. Loren just ignored the problems he caused, as usual, while giving Brax the cold shoulder.
It was Friday night in Vegas, and we were backstage at the T-Mobile Arena. Braxton already looked exhausted even though the night was young. I wasn’t sure how much sleep she’d been getting. Our first two nights on the bus together had been tense and wasn’t getting any better. Braxton walked on eggshells around us, and we around her.
“You okay?” I asked her when Houston finished berating her for disappearing this morning, this time alone but without security. She was sitting alone on the sofa, heels off, and rubbing her small feet with a grimace.
“Fabulous,” she grumbled without looking up.
The link between my brain and my body disconnected long enough for me to take the foot she was rubbing between my hands and kneed the pad of her foot. And I was painfully aware of the fact that this hadn’t gone unnoticed.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Loren storm off, bursting through a door marked “No Exit” and setting off the alarm. Thankfully, one of the venue staff ran over a moment later and quickly reset the security system.
“Is this okay?” I asked her once the usual chaos resumed. I was so nervous that you’d think I was fingering her pussy instead of rubbing her feet. Smiling softly, Braxton nodded before closing her eyes and resting her head on the back of the couch. “So I don’t know what happened after you and Lo disappeared,” I began as I massaged the arch in her foot, “and I don’t want to know.” Only partly true. “Whatever happened, my unsolicited advice is to put it out of your mind. At least until after the show. Those are not the kind of demons you want out there with you.”
Her eyes opened, and I could tell she was considering whether to confide in me.
This is historically the moment when guys too emotionally available end up in the friend zone. We become a shoulder to lean on and nothing more.
You don’t care.
And then I told myself to believe it like it was gospel.
“Do you ever get used to it?”
When I simply stared back at her, she gestured toward the stage. I listened for a moment as our opening band wrapped up and then switched to her other foot. I didn’t want to know what it meant that she chose to keep what happened between Loren and her a mystery to me. Instead, I concentrated on relieving the ache in her feet and ignoring the one in my chest.
“Fucking up is inevitable. No matter how good you get, you’ll always be human. It’s not until you screw up the first time and realize the world didn’t end that you stop worrying about the times that follow. You’re good at what you do, Braxton. You have a gift, and that’s something a few bad shows and bloodthirsty critics can never take away from you.”
“Wait,” she said, making me pause. “I have critics? Already?”
“That’s what you heard?”
“I’m human, remember?” she tossed back at me sweetly.
“So I’m guessing you haven’t been on Twitter lately.”
“No.” She winced and then grimaced. “Do I want to look?”
“No.”
I could see the curiosity burning in her brown eyes and knew the moment my back was turned that she’d find herself in the middle of a shitstorm. We were moments from playing our fourth show, and Braxton had been nothing short of amazing. She hadn’t reached Calvin’s level, but it was becoming clear that she’d surpass him.
It wasn’t enough, though.
She was currently being ripped apart from every corner of the earth, and until I let the cat out of the bag, she’d been oblivious to it. Quiet as it was kept, those critics were why Houston blew his top anytime Braxton was out of his sight.
Because he wanted what was best for those he cared about, even at the expense of himself. Neither of them knew it yet, but that now included Braxton.
The opening band was all smiles when they returned backstage. It was always our cue to get our shit together.
“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it,” Braxton murmured as she accepted her guitar from a roadie wearing one of our band tees. It was a new design that included one of the shots from the shoot we did weeks ago. The roadies seemed to prefer that one to the choice with just our names on it, and I didn’t blame them. Braxton wrapped around me sounded too good to pass up.
Loren reappeared through one of the designated entry/exit doors, and I stiffened when I saw that Houston was right behind him. I didn’t trust them alone together, but I’d been too into Braxton to notice anyone else. If they fought without me to break them up, neither would stop until the other was dead, and I’d spend the rest of my life failing to piece the victor back together once the guilt tore them apart.
That’s what happens when two competing powerhouses refuse to give up control—Houston had trouble letting go, and Loren hated being told what to do.
I…just wanted my best friends back.
We used to smile whenever one of us walked into a room. Of course, everyone thought it was weird, but we didn’t care. And until I fucked that up it never mattered who was in our life at the time. All we had were each other.
“You ready to do this?” Houston grilled.
Braxton nodded, knowing he was speaking to her even though he refused to make eye contact. Meanwhile, she avoided Loren’s penetrating gaze at all costs. I knew I wouldn’t stop fixating over what happened between them, just like I knew I wouldn’t like the answer.
Had they slept together?
Loren might behave like a pig, but he didn’t squeal like one, and for once, I wished he was one to kiss and tell.
Houston and Brax started toward the stage. I watched as Houston said something too low for me to hear, and Braxton’s spine straightened as her hands made fists.
Yeah, I’d bet Bound’s net worth that she’d be taking a swing at him before the tour was over.
Making Houston bleed was sort of our unspoken initiation ritual. Calvin had always been too much of
a chump to try. God fuck his soul. We’d never actually sat down and discussed why we couldn’t accept him. We never had to. We just lived and bled on the same page and never strayed.
That is until Calvin got his revenge before snorting himself to death.
Good fucking riddance.
Someone handed me drumsticks and handed Loren the bass he called Sharon for no reason at all, and together we made our way to the stage.
“So, are you going to tell me what happened between you and Brax, or are you going to wait until it’s awkward for everyone?”
He summoned an arrogant look that only Loren James could. “What makes you think I planned to tell you at all?”
“Because I know you? Because you never seem to keep your mouth shut?”
“When have I ever kissed and told you shit, motherfucker?”
That stopped me dead in my tracks.
Loren was already hysterically laughing, which caused Braxton to peer over her shoulder. Whatever she was thinking, I couldn’t pinpoint as her bored gaze moved between Loren and me. Deciding this discussion was better had without Braxton overhearing, I shoved Loren backstage again, even though we were already late.
“You kissed her?”
He peered down his nose at me even though he only had two inches on me. “Maybe she kissed me.”
“Bullshit,” I spat back. “If something happened, it’s all on you.”
Yup, I was angry at him.
I wanted to fight my best friend over pussy that wasn’t even mine.
“I’m sorry to burst your weird fantasy bubble, but Braxton isn’t as innocent as you think.”
My heart stopped in my chest.
He fucked her.
He fucking fucked her!
How else could he have known? Forcing myself to relax, I started to ask him when he read the look on my face and beat me to the punch. “She told me herself, bro.”
“What makes you think she was telling the truth?”
The look he gave me was half bewilderment, half exasperation. “Why the fuck would she lie?”
“How many extra fingers would you need to count the virgins who told you their cherries were popped so you’d screw them?”
Slipping a stick of gum in his mouth, he said, “Point taken. I don’t think she was lying, though.”
“How do you know?”
“Why does it matter?” He smiled sneakily before blowing a bubble and popping it with his teeth. “You got a secret fetish or something?”
“Get fucked, Loren.”
“I tried,” he mumbled, pushing air from his nostrils. “Believe me, I tried.”
Hope shot through me at hearing that. “She turned you down?”
“We wouldn’t be here if she hadn’t.” The joy that suddenly overtook my expression was wiped away when he said, “She’s got the softest thighs. No way would I leave them this soon.”
Loren walked away before I could demand to know where else he had touched her, and I had no choice but to follow. I could hear the crowd outside getting restless. The show had already begun but little did I know, it wasn’t one that would be happening on a stage.
The show was incredible. The crowds were getting wilder. Word had spread about our success in Los Angeles and San Jose, and curiosity made them hungry.
With each song we performed together, it felt less like I was some weird attachment that Bound couldn’t shake and more like I was Bound.
Mine.
I allowed myself to linger on the fact that I’d claimed them before realizing that it was calmness I felt. They were mine now, but they hadn’t earned me yet.
Rich boarded the bus wearing another hoodie despite us being in the desert and gave me another one of those weird looks. I’ve been getting them ever since the show. He was trying to see past the wall I erected and figure me out, but I didn’t like intruders.
On the other hand, it was only fair that I let him since I’d given Loren the cliff notes to my past. At the time, I didn’t understand why. After two days of the cold shoulder and long, sullen silences from all three of my bandmates, I’ve had time to ruminate.
I wanted to scare him off.
Instead, I dangled fruit in his face and then forbade him to feast from my garden. Now Loren was pissed, and I understood why, but that didn’t mean I would spread my legs to make him feel better.
“You want the shower first?” Rich offered. He was the only one to do so my first two nights on board. I learned quickly not to shower after Loren, who took longer showers than Houston, Rich, and me combined.
“Sure.” I stood and took my dinner plate to the sink. Apparently, Bound traveled with a team of caterers along with a bevy of people eager to do their—our bidding. A girl could get used to this. My dinner usually consisted of cheap wine and string cheese.
After rinsing and sticking my plate in the empty dishwasher, I smiled at Rich, who was busy eyeing one of the three steaming hot plates left on the counter and covertly watching me with the other.
“Thanks, Rich.”
“No problem.” His lips barely moved—I knew because I was admiring them and his piercing a little too closely—as if it wasn’t what he really wanted to say.
I almost stayed to delve into his mind before deciding the distance we’d kept was best.
As I headed to the shower, I wondered where Loren and Houston had disappeared. I’m sure they were out turning Vegas on its head. We had one more show in Vegas tomorrow before heading to Glendale, and then it was Denver, Dallas, Houston, and New Orleans after that. The rest of the cities were a blur within my chaotic thoughts.
Figuring Rich would join his friends, I took my time under the hot stream of the shower. I almost felt ready to tackle the world when I finally stepped from the glass enclosure. Steam had completely fogged the mirror and poured from the bathroom when I opened the door to air it out.
I was not prepared to find the bedroom occupied.
The steam billowed out, quickly filling the room and clouding the two people rolling around on the bed like they were alone. I didn’t recognize the girl with her tiny tits exposed thanks to the dress bunched around her waist, but I did recognize the infuriating asshole on top of her.
He’d just been begging to fuck me two days ago, and now he’d already moved on?
As the walls closed in on me, I worked to control my anger before the smell of burning coals could seep into my lungs and strangle me with a phantom hold.
“Was there a sign I missed that I should have hung up, or was the running water not a clue that this room was occupied?”
Loren lifted his head from suckling the girl’s brown nipples, letting me see that he was drunk out of his mind.
Oh, that’s just great.
“You can join us if you like.” Loren’s intoxicated gaze dipped to the rest of me, still painted in water droplets and covered only by a towel. “You’re almost attired for the occasion. Drop the towel.”
The girl beneath him giggled out of control, but I didn’t find a damn thing funny.
Neither did Loren.
His head swiveled, and then he was staring down at her like he disapproved. “We were having a conversation.”
The girl’s lips formed an O, and then she lay there pouting while waiting to be used and tossed aside before morning.
Loren’s black gaze returned to me.
“So what do you say, baby fawn?”
A quiet chuckle spilled out of me before I threw my head back and stared at the ceiling in defeat. Once I was done feeling sorry for myself, I turned my attention to the clueless, half-naked groupie.
“If you had any brain cells left, you’d get up and go. A spoiled brat, who also happens to be drunk, does not make for an amazing fuck. He’s selfish enough when he’s sober. You’ll regret it in the morning and be too disgusted to tell your friends. It’s not worth the bragging rights.”
I hid my surprise when the girl looked like she was considering my point.
Seeing this,
Loren shot up from the bed.
I didn’t know what he planned to do until he was already in front of me with my wrist in his grip. I didn’t know why I struggled when he pulled me forward. I already knew he wouldn’t force me, and I was right.
He pushed me out of the room and slammed the bedroom door in my face.
As far as I should have been concerned, my problem was solved, so why did I want to throw open the door for round two? The only exception was being left in my towel with no privacy to throw something on. That would be the moment Houston or Rich returned. Rich would blush and give me privacy, but Houston would accuse me of trying to seduce them or something.
Sighing, I turned away from the door just as Loren’s voice filtered through. “Turn over for me, baby. We don’t care about her, do we?”
Rolling my eyes, I listened to her giggle and then Loren giving her more orders as I dug through my suitcase for something to sleep in. Once I found a T-shirt, shorts, and panties, I dropped my towel, deciding I didn’t give a shit if someone walked in. As I used my towel to wrap my hair so it would dry quicker, the giggling finally stopped, and I began to hear moans coming through the door.
You don’t hear it.
The feminine moans only grew louder and more desperate as I pulled my cheeky underwear up my legs. I forced my teeth to unclench as I shoved on my T-shirt that stopped a few inches below my belly button.
By then, Loren’s groupie was coming and announcing it to anyone within hearing distance as if she were going for an Oscar. Staring at my shorts, I loosened my hold and let them fall.
I hated sleeping in more than what I had on.
I only wore panties and nothing else most nights, so I repacked the shorts and put my suitcase away in one of the closets built between the bunks and the bedroom. The bed inside was rocking now, and I heard the telltale sound of skin slapping. Listening to Loren and his groupie screw tasted like a glass of sour milk and smelled suspiciously bitter—like jealousy.
Fighting back the urge to gag, I climbed into my bunk and yanked the privacy curtain closed.
My headphones were under my pillow where I’d left them, so I plugged them into my phone, shoved the buds in my ears, and played the first song my thumb found.
