Slow Body Rock (Rockstar Romance) (2 page)

This band is my opportunity. No way I'll risk that. I don't even fucking know what I'd be risking it for.
Drezden's eyes were a slithering world of dark promises. “Listen,” I started to say.

He pulled his foot away. It left me emptier somehow. “Lola, I'm not a fucking moron.” There, that was the harsh side of the singer that I'd seen so much of in just a day. It wasn't comforting, but it left me feeling less of a mushy mess. “I'm not going to say word one to Porter or Colt, or anyone.”

The flutter in my heart died. His words were supposed to reassure me. Instead, they left me stiff and aching with a frustration I couldn't express.
He thinks that what happened is something that needs to be hidden. He's right. Why does that hurt to hear?
Squeezing my water bottle, I jumped into the aisle. “Then we're on the same page. Fine. I need to go talk to my brother.” Not giving him a chance to argue, I skipped down the bus steps.

I
did
need to talk to Sean, but I hadn't been planning it. I just needed to escape from Drezden and his cloying existence. The parking lot of the Griffin was packed with cars, over-nighters. Finding Barbed Fire's bus didn't take me that long.

Debating calling him first, I instead just clomped up to the door and pushed. It opened easily, revealing Shark at the wheel. He startled at the sight of me. “Lola! You scared me, shit!”

“Sorry.” His genuine shock made me smile. A tug of sad nostalgia hit me.
No, it's too soon for that. I only started this journey yesterday. There's time to feel wistful for this bus and the band later.
“Is my brother in here?”

“Actually,” a voice said behind me. Spinning, I looked eye to eye with Sean. He wore a gentle smile, a tray of coffee cups in his hands. “I went to get drinks for the guys. I got an extra, want it?”

Taking the cup, I felt the heat sinking through the foam. “Thanks. Uh, I thought we'd catch up before everyone takes off for the day.”

Sean lifted the tray, shoving it at Shark. He took it with confusion. “Hand those out,” he explained. “I'm going for a walk with Lola.”

****

W
e strolled along the parking lot, then up the road. It was reckless to go too far, though neither of us pointed it out. In wordless agreement, we walked in circles. “So you're enjoying it?” he asked, sipping from his cup.

I held my coffee close, sniffing the steam. “Well, most of it.” Sean slowed, lifting an eyebrow. I went on at his prompt. “The music is coming along, they seem to trust I can perform tomorrow. It's just...” How did I phrase this? “Drezden is sort of intense.”

That was putting it mildly.

“Intense how?”

The creamy skin of my cheeks shifted to maroon. “I don't know. Maybe it's just how he is. When we play together, his singing is overwhelming.” I thought about his fingers on me, his rough jeans grinding, and shivered.

Sean kicked a rock, watching it skid over the road. “Don't be afraid of Drezden Halifax. He's the kind of guy you should try to get closer to. He can take you places, tell you things, teach you things.”

My feet froze. I stopped walking, staring at Sean. “How do you mean?”

His smile was tight. “A guy like him has a poet's heart. It's why he's so good at what he does. You should go ahead and try to steal some of that.”

Steal some of Drezden Halifax.
It was an absurd thought. He was the guy who was trying to fucking steal parts of me. It was impossible to tell Sean that, though.
He'd either not understand, or worse, think I was acting dumb.
I struggled with convincing myself I wasn't already. “Alright. I'll keep that in mind.”

“You sure you're alright, Lola?” Turning, my brother studied me from toe to scalp.

I pushed my shoulders into my ears.
Just trying to handle a guy who scares me while also turning my insides to jello.
I rubbed my elbows self-consciously, glad my arms were covered. Sean didn't need to know anything about last night... Drezden or otherwise. “I'm fine. I should get back though, Brenda said—” I trailed off. Mentioning Brenda had forced something else up. A piece I'd left drowning in alcohol last night. “Hey. Sean?”

He tilted his head, waiting.

In my hands, the coffee felt colder. “How come you never told me that you auditioned for Drez's band years ago?”

I knew my brother very well. The instant his face fell, I was sure something was wrong. “Oh. That.”

“Sean, talk to me. Why was that worth omitting?”

“Look, it's not that.” Fiddling with his neck, he eyed the sky. “Lola, that was a long time ago. You had... other things to worry about. It was a dumb audition.”

A dumb audition that I nailed yesterday.
What he'd said, though, it made me think. He was right that two years ago I was busy with some important things. Helplessly, my fingers wandered to the inside of my right arm. Nails itched at where the tattoo hid. “You didn't tell me because you... what? Didn't want to worry me?”

“I didn't want to depress you more, yeah.” His tongue held an edge. “Fucking—Lola, listen. Two years ago things were hectic. But you're fine now, and I'm fine now. We've both dealt with our demons. The only thing that matters right now is
literally
right now.”

Inside, I wanted to agree. No one wants to be suspicious of their sibling. “Okay. Okay, don't worry. It's not important anymore.”

His face smoothed with relief. “Good. Now, what were you going to say before that tangent?”

“Oh.” I almost dropped my coffee. “Oh, shit. I need to go! Brenda scheduled a photo shoot today and I—I'll talk to you soon!” Waving, I ran at full power back to the parking lot.

My lungs roared, screaming as I jumped up the stairs on the bus. Inside, I found Drezden and Porter waiting for me. They looked up, both surprised.

The bassist grinned, showing every tooth. “So! You're ready to practice?” Gasping, I clutched my chest, not able to speak. “Fantastic! Colt drank enough that there's no way he doesn't have a huge fucking hangover.” His arm draped over my shoulders, pulling me close. I saw Drezden's narrowed stare.

“How about,” Porter chuckled in my ear, “we wake him up in style.”

––––––––

B
y the time the bus rolled out, we were all awake and in the practice room. Lola had tuned her guitar, then at Porter's suggestion, strummed with the amp turned up until Colt stormed in clutching his skull. It was what they needed; a moment that broke the tension.

I wished it worked for me.

My night had been plagued with visions of Lola. Her pouting lips, the curve of her neck, the way her dark hair fell so wild over her shoulders. Even her smell had been in my dream. Worse, when I awoke, I swore it was hanging around me.

When it faded, I'd actually felt sad.

Seeing her that morning had only soothed me briefly. I was luckily wrapped up in my fight with Brenda. It made dealing with Lola's appearance less of an all encompassing event. Seeing her flushed cheeks, I'd craved to grab her pale skin in my hands until she bruised.

I didn't think I was dangerous. Now, with a beast coming to life in my bones, I had to wonder. If I was left alone with Lola, no one around to judge me, to stop me... what would I do to her? The thought of her mewling mouth, plaintive cries, sent my heart pumping. My blood careened through me chaotically.

I
was chaotic.

Fuck.

Leaning on the wall, I wrapped the wire from my mic in my fingers. I pretended it was her hair; my tugging became firmer. “Yo,” Colt said, downing another palm full of pain meds for his headache. “We doing this or what? Pick a fucking song, maestro.”

Pushing off the wall put me dead center in the room. I was positive I saw Lola flinch, leaning away on her bench. Everything she did to me made me want to curse myself, or to curse her. How could one girl drive me so insane? “Let's play Velvet Lost,” I grunted, razors sinking in my words. Hiding my hunger for Lola was so fucking hard. The only way to even try was to embrace my voracious anger.

“Fine, whatever,” Colt grumbled. His mood was bleak, but he had himself to blame. He never should have gotten so drunk. But unlike Johnny, I'd never known Colt to let his habits ruin his music. When he started drumming, my confidence returned.

Together we began our mixture of sounds. Porter let the base punctuate, making Lola's sweet licks of strings sound so clean. Chugging from my water, I dropped the empty bottle aside. It fell, forgotten. “Sticky sweetness, burning fast. My love, my dear, this will be your last...” I whispered into the mic, let the lyrics coat my tongue and soul. Every song I ever wrote had a meaning. It was something the band fought with me over at times.

I would tell them a lyric couldn't be changed. I'd fold my arms and stand my ground at Brenda's laments. It was my music, my fucking heart and core and god damn blood.

No one was allowed to change it.

Looking straight at Lola, I gauged her playing. She wasn't struggling like yesterday. That was good. We didn't have the luxury of time for her mistakes. “If I take you from the grave, you'll be mine... you'll be mine...” Her eyes glimmered, sticking to me, then my lips. I spread them; a kiss across the room. A promise I would taste her as soon as I found a way.

“Lost in time,” I hissed, all rocks and leather. “Your end is mine. My love will be your last.”

Just like that, Lola missed her mark. Dead air, a wrong note, she was stammering as much as if she'd forgotten her words during a speech. To give her credit, she recovered and kept going. The tension in her neck and shoulders was clear as day.

Yesterday, when she'd kept making mistakes, I'd burst with disgust. Rage had taken over my brain. Staring at her red skin, the sweaty luster on her throat... I knew what was happening.

I finally understood.

She messes up when she gets sucked into my words. When I sing at her, and she feels it, she can't control herself.
It was delicious and awful and astounding all at once. What fucking power I had over her. I could make her so weak, she'd forget every bit of talent she had and turn into someone who'd never touched a guitar before.

I could break Lola.

That shouldn't have excited me so much.

Everyone was still playing. They had only stopped when I'd been the one to quit before. I'd always demanded perfection and hard work. Inside of me, a tempting wall of sin was tearing me in two. Lola
needed
to perform up to par. The band relied on her doing her best.

But the idea of seeing her crumbling because of
me
, to have that direct of a connection with her mind and body...

Fuck, it made me shiver.

When I sang my lines, my mouth was salivating. “Velvet lost on the skin of your bones, velvet rugs that lead to just stones.” With every fiber of intensity, I channeled the heat from my core to my voice. My jeans were tight from my excitement. I needed Lola's reactions. I needed them so bad it made my molars throb. “Sweet love, last love, you'll burn for me...”

There; the twang of failure. Her misstep sang to my heart, soared through me like a bird with a promise. No one saw it, but I trembled with need. God, was I so fucked up that I'd find such joy in touching her the only way I could? Caressing her with my song until she shattered?

I am that sick, yes. I really am.
Clutching the mic, I let the music fade on the unfinished song. Watching Lola, my forehead was smooth. Everything inside of me, the hidden pieces, were wrinkling and slithering. “This is why I told Brenda we needed all the time we had.”
Why I need every god damn second with you I can get, Lola Cooper. Anything else is a hollow cavity.

“Sorry,” she whispered, fingers running nervously through her hair. Over and over she toyed with the long strands. It did little to subdue their waves. “Can we just try again?”

My eyebrows made a tight fist. “You sure it won't be wasting our time?”

“Drezden!” Porter snapped, palming his neck. “Fuck, man. Every time. Just chill out, you know she can do it.”

“I don't know shit.”
That's a lie. She can do it when I'm not trying to sing right into her cells. I'm making her fumble intentionally. Fuck fuck fuck, I'm so hard over this.
Ducking down, I grabbed a new water bottle, adjusting my erection covertly. “Again, let's go again.”

I could keep doing this forever.

Any question about my promise last night fled. I'd told myself I'd make Lola mine, that I'd do whatever it took to claim her. If I had to start with her skill, with controlling how she performed, then I would. I was a monster.

And I didn't care.

The next song was Black Grit. Lola knew this one well. She held up smoothly as I sang. Once, she even managed to look me in the eye without dropping a note. She had no idea I'd figured her out. I wished I could see into her head. Was she blaming herself? Nerves? I hadn't seen her bite herself today, but I couldn't be entirely sure.

If she uses pain to claim her body from me, what then?

Swelling with energy, I belted out the wild chorus to the song. It could bring the house down on stage, I'd sung it for crowds so big you'd get lost for days. Now I aimed that surge at one single girl. Lola had no chance.

If it weren't for the strap around her neck, she would have dropped her guitar entirely.

The rest of the band voiced their frustration. Inside, I cheered with rapture.

“Jesus,” Colt sighed. Holding a water bottle to his forehead, he squinted across at me. “Look, at this rate, I've got to say... maybe we shouldn't have kicked Johnny so quick.”

My stomach coiled like a cobra. A twinge of pain slid through my neck; I'd twisted that fast to look from my drummer, to Lola.
Holy shit, what am I doing?
The clarity was colder than the deep ocean. I was fucking sabotaging my own band. Even with my promise, my desire, in my mind... I had to admit that was messed up.
But I need her, and this is the only way I can have her. The only way I can reach inside of her in a way no one else has a right to, or could even dream to.