“You forgot what?” I ask, pulling my half soft dick from its confines.
“I forgot what it was like to be with you.” She says, her eyes glossing over slightly. “I forgot how good it was, and for a moment, I forgot how much it hurts to walk away from you too.”
Her body leaves mine in the next second as she pushes off of me. My chest tightens because, for a moment, I forgot she’d have to leave. She walks to the bathroom and shuts the door behind her. Not even casting me a glance. God dammit. I knew this would happen, I knew as soon as I got too close again, she’d push me away, building her tower walls higher than they were before. I lean my head back against the cushions and curse to whoever’s listening for letting me get this close to my harbor and then shutting out the lights to my lighthouse.
Chapter 15 Bristol
The water pelts against my back as I stand under the steady stream. I can’t believe I let myself get close to the sun again. And again, it burned me. You know the old saying fool me once shame on you, fool me twice shame on me… is it still shame on me, if it’s the hundredth time? When does it become shame on them? I sigh as I lean my head back, letting the water cascade down my back. I need to get out of here, I need to run and never look back. Andrew isn’t mine, and Rhyit is everyone else’s, which he’s proved that time and time again. I squirt a small amount of shampoo into my hands and lather my hair up. As I’m washing away the last remnants of Andrew from my body, the door bursts open. A groan slips past my lips at my own stupidity. I knew I should have set that damn lock. I roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me. Rockstars are so damn dramatic, it’s in their DNA.
The glass shower door opens, and I close my eyes, attempting to block out his presence. He enters the shower, and I’m aware of his closeness before I even open my eyes. He grabs the tiny bar of soap off of the shower shelf and starts lathering himself up. He sighs loudly, and I snap my eyes to him. His eyes find mine, and there is fire dancing below his green irises.
“Is this how we’re going to play it?” He asks as his hands run along his tatted skin, the pistol in the petals glares at me from his chest. The shading makes it look like the gun was just dropped into a sea of rose petals, it’s my favorite tattoo of his. It’s also the only one on his body that I drew.
“Is it?” His voice draws me out of my inspection.
“I’m not going to play anything.” I snap, grabbing the conditioner from the tiny shelf aggressively. His palm finds my throat as he pushes my body back against the shower wall. His large stature has my head tilting upwards to meet his eyes.
“You know what this weekend has taught me?” He asks rhetorically. “That life is so fucking short, and if you want something, you need to take it. You wanna run, I can see it in your eyes. Run, baby, I’ll find you. We’re far from over, Bristol.” His thumb rubs at my pulse point in my neck as I try to comprehend what he’s saying.
“You don’t get to tell me that. It’s been years, Andrew, and now, now you want to tell me we’re not over. I won’t do it again, I can’t. I can’t survive that again. You only think you want this because I’m right in front of you.” I spit through gritted teeth. “But what happens when I’m not? Hmm?” I ask, pushing my neck harder against his hand. “Your dick in every groupie in sight and making a fucking fool out of me.” My face is now inches from his, and the pressure on my neck is making my eyes water from the lack of oxygen. “I won’t, I just put myself back together. I won’t allow you to break me again. I turned a blind eye for too fucking long because I loved you. You hear that? Loved. As in past fucking tense.” I lean back against the wall, gulping oxygen. Rage burns against my skin, the need to cut and run grows by the second.
“I never cheated on you.” He snarks. “Not once. Did I fuck up? Absolutely. But I wasn’t with anyone else until you were already gone.”
“That’s bullshit. I saw you, I saw you on our last tour with girl after girl while we were together.” My eyes narrow. “Don’t lie to me, Rhyit. Fuck, the press saw you.”
“Did they?” He looks away from me, his face contemplative as he thinks. “Or did they see me, another girl and… Alex?” He bites, his eyes snapping back to mine. He holds my eyes as I try to remember all the pictures, all the women in the green rooms, everywhere. Alex was always next to him, a girl near him, but he was so standoffish towards women that they didn’t maul him the way they did Andrew.
“Alex couldn’t talk to girls. Other than you. He was painfully shy, if you don’t remember.” He rolls his eyes. “I made a pact with my best friend to help him.” He steps back from me. “I think you should probably go.” He states, stepping out of the shower.
“Rhy-“ I start, not sure what I should even say at this point. “I didn’t know-“
“Save it.” He snaps as he slams the glass door shut behind him.
Chapter 16 Rhyit
The phone next to my bed wakes me up from a fitful sleep. After Bristol left without a word, I tried like hell to fall asleep, but I ended up staring at the ceiling for hours replaying the memories of Alex and I. Alex was shit at talking to girls, he was so damn shy it was almost comical. Once, in the beginning, we were on stage and a girl threw a pair of panties at him, and he was so discombobulated, he missed his next chord. Bristol was the only woman he talked to outside of the random groupie he could work up the liquid or powder courage to seduce. On our last tour with Bristol, I made a pact with him to help him. He wanted the happiness, the companionship I had with Bristol. He always had a little crush on Bristol since we were kids. He drank more than the rest of us, always had a shot near his mouth and a bottle nearby, but it was only because he couldn’t cope with even a female reporter interviewing him. I don’t fault him for it. I had no idea Bristol thought I was cheating on her the whole time though. I thought she trusted me, knew I’d never hurt her intentionally.
The phone rings again, and I roll over, grabbing the receiver with a low sigh.
“Hello.” I croak, my voice laced with exhaustion.
“Rhyit,” Garrett huffs exasperatedly, “Jesus, I’ve called four times, I was getting ready to come up to your room to make sure you were still there. I need you to come down to the lobby. Right. Now.”
“Why? I don’t want to have breakfast with you.” I whine. I don’t; I want to lay in this bed as long as I can before I have to pour myself into a plane and fly home.
“Larkin is here.” He whispers into the receiver, like Larkin is standing right behind him.
Steve Larkin is the head of Paperweight Records and a giant pain in my ass. He’s slimy, and smarmy, and makes Mickey Cohen look like a carebear.
“Five minutes.” I spit at Garrett and slam the receiver down. The last thing I want to do today is talk to Steve. He’s probably got some half-cocked scheme to capitalize on Alex’s passing. Probably wants to do a tribute show in Seattle. Fuck that. I’m never going back there.
I grab a pair of jeans from the suitcase on the floor and a clean black t-shirt. I brush my teeth quickly and throw my boots on before heading to the elevator.
Slicked-back black hair and a tailored suit greet me when I reach the lobby. Steve smiles at me as I take the last few steps to meet him, but it’s not a normal smile, and it makes me uneasy. His teeth are too white, and it looks like there’s too many of them, like a great white shark. Cue the Jaws music here.
“Andrew, so good to see you.” He says, holding out his hand for me to shake. I grasp his palm in mine and plaster on a smile. This asshole holds the keys to my castle until the record deal is up in two years.
“Steve, I didn’t think you’d make it up here.” I say, gesturing to the hotel bar.