Life On Stage: Beat Part 18

"What? Why?"

"Because we're not sixteen and I said I'll deal with it."

She looks at me wide-eyed, like I've lost my mind. "Look." Pulling my jeans over my hips, I don't bother b.u.t.toning the top b.u.t.ton before lifting my knee onto the bed and leaning over. "Stay naked. I don't give a s.h.i.+t who's at the door, I'm getting rid of them." I pull the sheet she has gripped to her chest back and peek down between the sheet and her skin. "Fast. I'm getting rid of them fast." I wink.

The knock is more of a banging as I swing the door open to catch whoever is on the other side off-guard. It works. The two girls jump back so fast, they nearly fall over.

"s.h.i.+t. You ladies okay?" I reach out and grab the one on the right's elbow, just as she's about to fall. As soon as she's recovered, she throws her arms around my neck, swamping me in a big hug.

"Oh my G.o.d! It's really you!"

I pull my head back and attempt to disentangle myself from her grip. "Yep. I'm me. And who might you be?"

"Oh my G.o.d!" she squeals to her friend in a gla.s.s-shattering pitch...right into my ear. "He wants to know my name."

I can smell the alcohol on her breath, and it looks like these two may still be dressed from last night. "It's very nice to meet you, ladies, but I'm sort of in the middle of something important. Will I see you at a show soon, I hope?"

"Yes! We're going to follow the bus to the next show. We went last night. We went to see Easy Ryder but...oh my G.o.d...you were incredible."

"Thank you." I smile. "Well, I'm hard at work. So I'll see you ladies in a few nights then, yeah?" I turn around to the door I've been holding open just a crack. "What're your names, sweethearts?"

I hear Lindsay and Jenna yelling and jumping around even once the door is closed. I walk back into the bedroom, shaking my head.

"Hard at work, huh?" Lucky arches an eyebrow.

"Just telling the truth." I unzip my pants. Her eyes follow the sound. The glazed look in her eyes has me hardening again as I slip off my jeans.

She swallows. "Sounds like Lindsay and Jenna were excited to meet you."

"Yeah." I hold her eyes while I stroke myself up and down leisurely. "Looks like I'm excited too." I pull away the sheet and climb on top of her, hovering.

Her voice is soft, but etched with concern that matches her eyes when she looks up at me, our noses an inch apart. "What are we going to do?"

"Right now? I'm going to make you forget there's anyone else. The rest we'll figure out later."

We've both been quiet for a while. Her head is lying in the crook of my arm while one finger traces a path over the tattoos woven above one bicep. I know there's something she wants to talk about, but I give her time to let her thoughts form the right words.

"I'm not a cheater," she whispers.

I kiss the top of her head, and the arm I have wrapped around her squeezes rea.s.surance. "I didn't think you were."

"But I am now. I mean. This is the first time I've ever cheated on anyone."

"Me too."

"Really?"

"You sound surprised." Her comment stings a bit, and my voice bites right back.

"I didn't mean it that way. I mean...you just...you're sort of a flirt and, you know, the whole rockstar thing."

"And that makes me a cheater?"

"No. I really didn't mean it that way. Can we please start over?"

"How about we've established we're both not usually cheaters and move on from there?"

"Okay." She's quiet for a long time before she speaks again. "I've been with Dylan for almost a year."

It's not like that's news to me, but the reminder slaps me in the face. I don't respond. Because what do you say to that?

"I thought I was in love with him."

Apparently, the slap was just a warm-up for the punch in the gut. "Thought?"

She nods. "But I'm confused now. I was lying in bed the other night trying to figure out if I fell out of love or never was in love, or if I do love him but just not the way I should."

I s.h.i.+ft, lifting her from my chest and easing her back to the bed so I can see her. I hate this conversation, but I need to see her eyes. "Did you figure out the answer?"

She shakes her head.

"Do you feel like today was a mistake?"

"That's the thing. Today felt...right. It didn't feel like a mistake at all."

"Every minute since the day I met you has felt that way." I'm pretty sure I sound like a p.u.s.s.y, but f.u.c.k, I don't even care.

She looks up into my eyes. "What are we going to do?"

"The question isn't what are we going to do. It's what are you going to do. Because I'm right here waiting for you to figure it out."

She swallows. "Can you give me a few days?"

I nod. Hating that she needs it, but the reality is, it feels like I've been waiting a lifetime for her. A few days more shouldn't kill me. Or will it?

Chapter Twenty-One.

Lucky

It's been two days since I slept with Flynn. Two days since my head started spinning and I haven't been able to think straight. I look over at Dylan lying next to me as the bus hums peacefully along the open road in the middle of nowhere. A man I've wanted since I was fifteen. I'm living every girl's fantasy. Only, I'm not a girl anymore. I'm a woman. Yet I'm still unsure if I know the difference between l.u.s.t and love, infatuation and dedication.

I do have feelings for Dylan, I'm sure of that, and I thought those feelings were love. But if I loved him, would I have done what I've done? He's good to me. A relations.h.i.+p with a musician on the road isn't easy. Yet he's worked at it, finding time for me and even arranging it so we can be together on this tour. And look how I've shown him appreciation.

The last two nights I've pretended to be asleep before he came into the bedroom. I feel guilty even lying here. The funny thing is, my guilt is less toward Dylan and more toward Flynn. I've been with Dylan for almost a year, yet I feel guilty for sleeping next to him. Deep down, I know why that is-because guilt is an offense of the heart, and by lying here, I'm committing a crime against a man who has captured a piece of mine. But can two men have a piece of my heart at the same time?

I was pretty good at geometry, but the logistics of this triangle makes my head spin. Even if I end things with Dylan, where would that leave Flynn with the tour? He still has another few weeks of filling in for Linc, and then his band is joining the second half of the Easy Ryder tour. It's not like I could break things off with Dylan and Flynn and I would walk off on our merry way.

Once Dylan found out we were together, he'd know things started behind his back. And that would definitely not sit well. I wouldn't put it past him to fire In Like Flynn and make it out to be their fault in an attempt to blacklist them.

And I know from experience that keeping any relations.h.i.+p private when you're in the public eye is nearly impossible. Any way I look at it, Flynn seems to lose. So I just keep looking at it. Over and over again.

I toss and turn for a half hour more, thinking about tomorrow night. We arrive in Austin and I can't wait to see Avery. She's never been a fan of Dylan, so I'm sure when I fill her in, she'll be all team Flynn. I might be shopping for a forum to validate what my heart is telling me to do.

Even though it's early, even for me, I slip out of bed, tiptoe into the bathroom to wash up and head out to the lounge area.

"Hey," Flynn's voice surprises me. He's in his usual morning position, arms spread wide on the counter, waiting for the coffee pot to finish brewing.

"You're up early."

"Couldn't sleep." He looks down at my t-s.h.i.+rt, where he's undoubtedly greeted with a stiff salute, then back up to me with a flirty grin. "Come here," he says in a low, incredibly seductive voice. The simple two words make my belly flutter in that delicious way. Then he slowly crooks his finger at me.

I deliberate for a second, turning around to look at the door closed behind me, and then back to Flynn. He simply waits with that s.e.xy smile for me to come to him. Totally sinful.

I want him.

No, I don't.

G.o.d. Yes, I absolutely do.

I walk the half dozen steps to stand before him, my feet barely finis.h.i.+ng their last step when his hand wraps around my neck and his mouth crashes down on mine. One hand keeps a tight grip on the nape of my neck, his thumb snugly holding my throat; his other goes to my a.s.s and he pulls me firmly against him. Oh G.o.d. Firm. Firm is definitely what I feel.

The man truly steals my breath away. I'm a puddle on the floor by the time he releases me. "Morning." The sound vibrates against my lips, but I feel it much lower.

My good sense finally returns, and I take a step back. I'm on a bus with my boyfriend and the rest of his band and any one of them could walk in at any moment. I clear my throat, still shaken from his kiss, and go to sit down. "Yes. Umm. I couldn't sleep either."

Flynn fixes our coffees and brings the two steaming mugs to the table. Unlike every other morning, he slides in the booth next to me, rather than across from me.

It's a tight fit, our shoulders and thighs pressed up against each other. "What are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" He lifts his mug to his mouth-the mouth with the wicked grin-and sips with a devilish gleam in his eyes.

"Why are you sitting on this side?" I squint.

"Ah. Because it's harder to reach from the other side."

I'm afraid to ask. "Reach what?"

Instead of answering me, he trails his fingers along my thigh and then, with eyes blazing, he pulls my thighs wider apart under the table.

My breath audibly hitches. I should stop him.

Should.

Yes, I'm going to.

Stop! Wait...I screamed that in my head, nothing actually came out.

His fingers travel up the inside of my thigh.

I should stop him.

No, don't.

Higher. Yes. G.o.d, yes. Do.

No, don't. I'm really going to stop him.

The words get stuck in my throat. And the next thing I know, his fingers are stroking me. Up and down, over the thin material of my night pants, but it feels incredible nonetheless. The way he watches me so intently, with so much desire in his eyes, shoots through me and I can feel my wetness grow.

Oh, G.o.d.

His fingers find my c.l.i.t and he rubs small circles, the lace of my panties causing just enough friction that I think I might actually be able to come with only his fingers on me through my pants.

"Oh G.o.d."

"Feel good?" His voice is hoa.r.s.e.

I nod and let my eyes flutter closed. Pressure inside me starts to build.

And build.

I'm so consumed, I can hear the sound of my own heartbeat pulsing loudly in my ears. Which is probably why I don't hear the door open.

Luckily, Flynn does and his hand is gone.

"Why are you up so d.a.m.n early? Come back to bed." Dylan's sleepy voice jolts me from my pre-o.r.g.a.s.mic haze, like I'd just stuck my finger on a live wire.

I almost choke trying to speak-my mouth is suddenly so dry. "Umm...I couldn't sleep."

Dylan looks from Flynn to me, eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Come on, I'll wear you out until you're tired enough to sleep for a few more hours."

Not knowing what the h.e.l.l to say or do, definitely feeling guilty as h.e.l.l, I nod.

"Excuse me," I say with a shaky voice to Flynn. For a second I panic that he's not going to move, that everything is going to blow up in my face. Flynn turns and catches my eyes, searching for something. His jaw clenches and then he stands to let me out. I feel his cold stare following me the entire way back to my room.

I try to get a minute alone with Flynn the rest of the day, but he's either very sleepy or intentionally avoiding me, because he spends the remainder of the bus trip in his sleeper. I'm pretty certain it's the latter, only I have no idea how to fix things. Well, that's not exactly true. I know how Flynn would have me fix things. Me, on the other hand, I'm not sure what it is I want to fix. My stomach churns with a mix of guilt and grief. I don't trust my own judgment anymore. From the moment I laid eyes on Dylan so many years ago, I fell deeply. But my feelings have never grown. Whereas, every day I fall a little deeper for Flynn. Do I really not know the difference between infatuation and love at twenty-five?