Prove Me Right (4 page)

“Hey, baby. Can I get a Miller over here?”

I narrow my eyes at the guy across the bar because I hate when a guy I don’t know gives me a pet name. It’s so rude. But what catches my eye is his hat. It’s the same one Liam wears all the time, white with a green brim. For a millisecond, a thrill rushes through me, but it’s gone just as fast ‘cause when our eyes connect, they’re not the soft ones I love. Instead, these eyes are blue and the whites are tinted red.

I hesitate to walk toward him for some reason, and he waves some money in the air. “Hey, sweetie? Beer!”

Nik takes in the scene and steps in front of me to give the guy a beer. I mouth my thanks to him and continue serving on the other side of the bar. Normally, I wouldn’t let Nik do that because I always take care of my own shit. But I’m just not in the mood right now. Lately, I’ve been so freaking lonely. I miss Lee and it’s starting to affect me to the point where it’s noticeable. Normally, I pride myself on putting on a front of being happy; I trick people into believing I don’t miss Lee so much it physically hurts.

Liam Anders has been my best friend since before I was born. He’s loved me, protected me, and cherished me throughout my entire life. And I miss him. God, do I miss him. His laugh, his smile, and the way he looks at me as if I’m the only woman in the world. I miss everything about him. Mostly, I miss his arms around me. The security of him holding me at night. How my entire body burns with one touch, a look, a single word.

“Another round over here, please.”

I plaster on my fake smile and bring another pitcher of beer to the college kid leaning on the end of the bar tapping his knuckles. Then I fill another drink order, and another, until the place is devoid of customers over a dozen hours later. Charlotte went home already so it’s just me and Nik left.

“You can go,” I tell him.

He shakes his head, not even looking up from his phone. “Yeah, because I’m gonna leave you alone at three in the morning. It’s not as if today will suddenly be the day I don’t walk you up. Finish your shit so I can go home.”

He can’t see me, but I flip him off. Just because I’m a woman doesn’t mean I can’t take care of myself. I live above the bar; it’s not like there’s gonna be a monster hiding in my stairwell. But after arguing to no avail years ago, I gave up trying to fight with the guys. It’s not my problem they hang around and wait for me.

“All right.” I shut the lights off except for the one by the back entrance, and Nik and I walk out. I lock the back door, and still inside, turn in the hallway and go up the stairs to my place. He’s standing in the same spot when I get to the top. “I’m fine, Nik. Jesus, go home.”

“Not till you get inside.”

I laugh, and once safely inside, yell through the door, “I’m good now. It was a close call, but I’m glad you were here!”

“Bye, smartass!” His voice echoes in the empty hallway, and the outside door slams, effectively surrounding me in silence for the first time all day, but the buzz of the neon signs still reverberates in my ears.

After a quick shower to get the bar smell off me, I curl up on my bed, exhausted but wide awake at the same time. Sleep doesn’t come easily for me when I don’t hear from Liam. They had a show tonight in California, and even though it’s two hours earlier there, it’s unusual that I haven’t heard from him by now.

I want so badly to text him and make sure he’s all right, but he said he would call me when he had a chance. I promised from day one that I would not be overbearing. Rolling to my back, I stare at his picture on my ceiling. He ordered a poster-size print of him behind his drum set, sticking his tongue out. Sweat drips down his chest and his hair sticks to his forehead. He’s sexy normally, but in his element, he’s intoxicating.

“I know how much you like it when I do this,” he said, swirling his tongue along my wet folds then curling it inside me. I was floating even though his hands held me down. He fucked me with his mouth as I looked at his picture until I came. Wanting to drive the point home, he licked his way back up and ran that tongue across my lips so I could taste what he had done to me, what he always did to me. Once his face was directly above mine, he rested his forehead against mine. “I want you to think of me in this bed, princess. Imagine what I could be doing to you. What I want to do to you. What I’m thinking about doing to you when I jack off.”

“Ugh.” Too tired to reach over in my nightstand to squelch the ache that slowly builds just thinking about that night, I squeeze my eyes shut and try to count sheep. The vibration of my cell startles me, yet all worries fade away when Liam’s face lights up my screen.

“Hi,” I answer.

“Hey. I’m sorry it’s so late. Fuckin’ Gabe got into it with some dude whose girl was all over him. My cell battery died and I went to the bus to charge it, but the driver locked the key inside and we had to wait for a fuckin’ locksmith. It’s been a shit night.”

“Aww. I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault. Just hearing your voice makes it better.”

I roll over and tuck my knees to my chest. “You, too.”

“Bad night?”

“Not really. I just miss you.”

He’s silent on the other line and guilt instantly rises in my chest for making him feel bad. It’s not his fault. I want to be with him; this is something we’ve talked about a million times over. We’ve analyzed our situation more times than I can count. Before he agreed to even
talk
about touring with the band, he discussed it with me first and wanted to make sure I was okay with it.

It was a simple decision, though. There’s no way in hell I’d ever leave him, and I refuse to hold him back, so we do the best we can. It’s not always easy; most times, it’s hard, but he’s worth it. He’s so worth it. Even though he’s not here most of the time, he manages to send me reminders. Flowers, cards, balloons, and gifts to let me know he’s always thinking about me.

“Nik squirted me in the face with the hose today.” I quickly change the subject.

“Why?” He laughs.

“Because I was swearing and he doesn’t like for girls to swear for some reason.”

“I like your smart mouth.”

“I like you.”

“Like you too, princess.”

A few minutes pass with nothing but our breathing.

“Lee,” I whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I’m about to fall asleep.”

“Okay.”

“I should let you go.”

“No!” His quiet voice from a second ago is now panicked. “Stay on the phone with me. I want to hear you breathing. It’s been too long since I’ve held you and this is the next best thing. So please, just stay with me for a little while longer.”

“All right.”

“Sweet dreams, Meara.”

* * *

“Meara! You in there?”

I roll over in bed then glance at the clock across the room on my dresser. It’s almost noon. “Shit!” Throwing the covers off, I run to the door and open it.

Nik looks me up and down, concern etched all over his face. “You all right? I got everything all set to go, but you’re usually not late.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened to my alarm.” I rub my eyes and sigh deeply. “Shit. Yeah, I do. I was talking to Liam and fell asleep with my phone still on. The battery must have died.”

“Well, I gotta get back. But take your time.”

“I’ll be down in twenty.”

“Seriously, Meara, take your time. I got it.” He squeezes my shoulder before going downstairs.

I never oversleep. The long hours and working both the bar and admin are really taking a toll on me, even though I really do like being busy. I could probably hire another bartender. I should, actually.

True to my word, I arrive downstairs exactly twenty minutes later. The bar is still sparse for a Sunday just after noon since it’s not football season, so I tell Nik I’ll be in the office. Paperwork doesn’t complete itself, so I sit at my desk and start to work on ordering.

People call me outgoing, happy, friendly, a social butterfly, which is true on all counts. But there’s something surprisingly relaxing about the monotony of paperwork in a quiet office by myself, especially when I’m trying to make the time pass. Working the bar, people like to talk ... a lot. Don’t get me wrong; I love meeting new people and chatting with them, and I’ve done it for what feels like ever. Sometimes, though, I just want some peace and quiet.

Three hours later, I power down my computer and unplug my phone from the charger. I take a lemon-flavored water out of the small fridge and scroll through one of my social media sites. One of the things I do, which I’d never admit to anybody, is check the band’s page at least daily. I don’t look because I’m a fan; it’s my dirty little secret, my insecurity rearing its ugly head. Fans post pictures of the concerts, meet and greets, and sometimes photos after the sets when the guys all go out.

It’s a form of torture looking at my boyfriend with random women. The band’s fan base ranges from young, single skanks to older couples, and I pray to see more of the latter as I scroll through the most recent posts. The picture I’m looking at right now is Liam with one of the former. A blond-haired girl—I won’t call her a woman because she looks like a doll with big, fake boobs and clothes that could pass for a swimsuit. She has both of her arms wrapped around his waist, her ugly face pressed against his chest. His eyes are on the camera, and the only solace I have is that his smile doesn’t reach his eyes. Sure, his arm is slung over her shoulder, and he appears happy, but I know him. The look he saves for me—when his eyes are slightly squinted, and the left side of his lips rise higher than the right—is never in any of these pictures.

“Stupid,” I mumble to myself, shutting the screen off and tucking my phone into the back pocket of my jeans.

I grab an apron to tie around my waist and head out to the bar, ready to sling drinks and make small talk before I pass out and do it all again.

Chapter 4

Liam

A BUMP IN THE
road jostles my head, and I sit up, not ready to be awake. Last night was shit on top of shit, and all I want to do is sleep, but I can’t even do that. Given the voices coming from the front of the bus, I figure I’m probably the last one up. Not a surprise since I hate mornings.

Despite being tired still, I slept the best I had in a long time after talking to Meara last night. She fell asleep before I did; her cute little snoring was a fucking symphony to me. I dreamed she was in my arms and now I have to face the reality that she’s not even in the same state as I am.

My feet drag as I make my way to the small bathroom, and by the time I’m finished taking a leak and splashing water on my face, I feel slightly more human.

The voices stop when I sit down and grab an apple from a suctioned bowl in the center of the table. “What?”

The three other men in the room all look at each other, but nobody says anything. Seven years of living on a bus with these fuckers and I can tell something isn’t right. A nervous energy surrounds me and I’m already getting ready for a fight. Lately, it always seems it’s me against them.

I’m the only one in our group who’s in a relationship. They want to have chicks back on the bus, but I don’t. They keep signing us up for all this stupid shit like judging bikini contests and scoring Jell-O fights. Of course, I have to go with them because I’m part of the band, but I’m over it. Been over it, and frankly, they’re starting to piss me off because they’re basically disrespecting my relationship with Meara.

“Will one of you just spit it out already?” My stomach tightens, preparing for whatever bad news they’re going to throw at me this time, and I toss the apple in the garbage can.

Mike, the lead singer, clears his throat. “They want to add some more stops.”

“Fuck,” I whisper harshly. On top of our differences in extracurricular activities, none of my band mates has the same views on the future of the band as I do. When we started out on the road at just eighteen, we had big dreams just like the thousands of other bands out there. Big lights, big cities, and big paychecks. Where we are now, touring and signed with a record label, is somewhere we never thought we would actually be. And I hate it. But they love it. I liked it for a minute but got over the vanity of it all pretty fuckin’ fast.

I’m constantly fighting an internal battle between what’s right for the band and what’s right for me. The guys
are
my family. Jamie is my real brother by marriage. My mom married his dad when we were both only four years old. We’re as close as brothers can be, and I’d do anything for him. I just don’t know how much longer I can do
this
for everyone else. I’m hanging on for them because it was all a dream at one point, and I’d feel like a bitch if I backed out. I feel like it’d be the lowest, most selfish form of betrayal.

But Meara, she’s my fucking life ... and I miss her.

“Come on, guys. It’s been months. I wanna go home.” To see my girl, to sink my cock inside her of instead of using my own hand. I swear if playing the drums doesn’t give me carpal tunnel, then I’ll get it from jacking off so much.

“They’re big venues, though, man.” Jamie speaks up, his deep voice matching the bass he plays. “I know this isn’t what we had planned, but it’s a great opportunity for all of us.”

My head shakes on its own accord and I blow air out of my nose. “And I suppose I’m outnumbered here, right? You already talked about it and all want to do it?”

“Sorry, Lee.” Gabe looks me in the eye; his weird gray eyes always give me the chills when he looks directly at me. “It’s what’s best for the band.”

“Yeah, right. The fuckin’ band. That’s all you fuckers give a shit about. We weren’t even supposed to last this long!” I clamp my jaw shut to prevent saying something I’ll regret. The truth is, I love the band and I love the guys. But I love Meara more. And I’m so beyond done with this shit. The late nights, the constant headaches, the grabby women, the loud parties, the fucking radio interviews where they ask the same questions over and over.

“We only said we’d try it for a year, and
if
we didn’t make anything of ourselves, then we’d quit. But we made it, Liam. We fucking made it.” Mike speaks up again and rubs his ringed fingers over the top of his bald head. “How can you not want this? It’s what we dreamed about, man. You need to get your shit together. I won’t have you fucking this up—”