14
Hollis
My hand flies across the page, the words pouring out of me, out of my heart and soul. I spill them across the page, the dark ink a stark contrast to the white hotel notepad. Normally, Cannon writes our songs—we all help sure, but he’s the one with the talent for songwriting.
But tonight, as I think on what I said to Mia this afternoon, the truth of my words, I can’t stop the words I ache to get out, to make them into song. A promise, my truth, a shout into the void for her to hear my sincerity.
She’s off limits, the one girl I can’t and shouldn’t have, but I yearn for her in a way I never have before.
That’s how I know what I feel is real, and song, lyrics, music is the only way I know how to prove it.
The first time I saw her I thought she was hot and I would’ve loved to have fucked her right then and there in that blue and yellow room. Now I know her, I feel for her, and I know once with Mia would never be enough. She’s too far under my skin.
I ache for her in a way I didn’t know was possible and I’ve had more cold showers in the past few weeks than I did in my entire teen years.
Under my breath I sing the lyrics as my hand flies across the page.
Each word bares my soul a little more.
I’ve never been so personal in any lyrics I’ve written before. I’ve always tried to keep a bit of myself, because as your fame grows so does the group of people who think you belong to them. You have to keep something to yourself to remind you of who you are and not what everyone else wants you to be.
I lost sight of that for a long time, turning into someone I don’t recognize when I look back. It makes me sick to speculate about what my mom must think of the person I’ve been. The excessive drinking, partying, fucking. All of us let the small bit of fame we got from the few songs we released change us—well maybe not Cannon, but for the rest of us … we let it consume us. We let it g
o to our heads, making us into even bigger cocky assholes than we were before.
Honestly, it’s a miracle Mia didn’t punch me in the face when I came out of her bathroom, all swagger and smart ass words. I would’ve deserved it too.
Being here, on Hayes’s tight leash, has sobered us all in more ways than one.
At first, I was livid, especially when he showed up at the club in D.C. treating us like a bunch of unruly teens who snuck out of the house on a school night.
Now, I’m grateful for it.
It’s funny how quickly perspective can change. It doesn’t take much to change as a person—only the ability to want to change.
This change has nothing to do with Mia. It would’ve happened with or without her once I came here, I’m sure of it, but she’s definitely pushed things along. With her, I see what’s at stake if I fuck up. My past keeps her from giving in, my future too, though she won’t admit it. I can’t blame her, growing up like she did she probably wants nothing more than normal, and fuck … I definitely can’t give her normal. Music is in my blood, in my veins, without it I’d shrivel up and die.
I don’t know why, when I finally feel something so deep, so real, for a woman, the whole situation has to be completely fucked up.
Maybe it’s my punishment for being such a screw up the last few years. It’s what I deserve, but I can’t help holding out hope things might fall into place.
15
Mia
The four guys stroll into the Sub Club and I instantly stiffen at their commanding presence. There’s a table of three girls I’m sure go to the University and they instantly spot the guys, eyeing them up and down. One juts her chest out, like it’s a spider web that can ensnare men. I roll my eyes at the ridiculousness of her behavior.
“Hey, hot stuff,” Hollis croons stepping up to the counter.
“Hey, douchetard,” I counter.
He grins from ear to ear. “That’s my girl.”
“I’m not your girl.”
His smile falters a little, the other three watching us with shrewd eyes.
“Sure you are,” he croons. “But keep telling yourself you’re not.”