Chapter 4
When we return home, I hang my signed setlist on my bedroom wall and snap a photo, sharing it on social media with a picture of Alice and me before the show, waiting in line.
But I don’t post my picture with Sully. Not yet.
As I type out a list of hashtags, Alice leans against my doorway, scrolling through her phone.
“Emily’s back!” She smiles, texting her girlfriend.
“I’m meeting her at The Rainbow Pony. You wanna come? ”
My post is already gaining hearts and comments from jealous fellow fans. A smirk steals my lips. Some followers post it’s nice to see me not as a mermaid since my page is usually about my alter ego, Mermaid Veronica.
Alice flicks the back of my phone. “Did you hear me? Emily. The Rainbow Pony. You in?”
My gaze falls onto my comfy bed. “No. You haven’t seen her in two weeks. Go be with your girlfriend.”
She eyes my setlist and then gasps. “Are you going to sext Sully? Booty call him? I need to know.”
A blush burns its way up my neck. “What?”
She rubs the skull and rose tattoo above her elbow.
A laugh slips out, and she coughs to disguise it.
“Come on. I saw how he looked at you. Sully brushed everyone else off but you; he wanted to eat you with a spoon. He didn’t even look my way and I’m hot shit.
” Her eyes blaze into me like she can see right through me.
“Not sure yet.” I don’t want to make a fool of myself. What if I freeze and go completely mute? What if I drop dead at his feet?
She bites her lip, gently tugging on her golden hoop earring.
“Maybe it’s for the best. He flirted with you, and you acted like a weirdo.
Tripping on saying your own name. You’re definitely out of practice.
” She walks into my room and pushes open my closet door.
“Now if we dress you in something sexy, maybe you won’t need words. And a steamy one-night stand would—”
“Stop.” I grab Alice’s arm and pull her away from my closet. “I’m not your Barbie and I’m not even sure I’ll message him.”
“Okay. I’m sorry for being so pushy. I only want the best for you and rock star sex sounds like what the doctor ordered. Especially after—”
“The incident…” I mumble, toeing the carpet.
“The best way to get over your shitty ex is to get under someone else. Food for thought. Text me if you change your mind.” Alice kisses my cheek and rushes into her bedroom to slip on her heels and grab her purse.
The apartment is too quiet in her absence.
After tying my hair into a tight ponytail, I pull my workout mat from under the couch and start setting up in the living room.
Tonight’s supposed to be my mermaid training session—building core strength, flexibility, endurance—but for a minute, I just stand there, twirling the hem of my workout tank between my fingers.
Am I seriously getting ready to stretch and swim-train after standing in the front row of the best concert of my life?
I met Sully Graham—the freaking bass player of Scarlet Failure—and he gave me his number.
He said things that made my skin burn and my heart race.
It made me feel like I was the only girl in the world.
And what am I doing? Rolling out a yoga mat instead of texting him.
My phone burns a hole in my back pocket, like it knows I’m being ridiculous.
Would Sully answer if I texted him? Would he notice if I don’t reach out? Then again, what if Sully’s waiting for me? I don’t want to disappoint him.
I exhale hard, the tension buzzing under my skin.
“Screw it,” I say, tossing the water bottle aside and kicking off my slides.
I’m not ready to text him yet, but I’m sure as hell not going to waste this energy.
A run around the apartment complex sounds better than sitting here overthinking.
The night’s cool and quiet—the perfect backdrop to clear my head and maybe figure out what the hell I’m so scared of.
Ten minutes later, I find myself sitting in a lounge chair staring into the glittering water of the pool. My phone is a heavy brick in my hand.
The night air kisses my face as I pace the length of the pool to calm my racing heart. I glance at Sully’s number on my phone. One text won’t kill me. I can send it and wait. Or I can send it and throw my phone into the deep end.
It’s now or never. Do I want to live with what-ifs? No. I don’t.
Hey, Sully. It’s Veronica. You gave me your number after the show tonight. Just wanted to reach out.
That sounds terrible. But what else should I say? I don’t want to look desperate or like I’m asking to screw a rock star. I’d be cool with talking.
Really Veronica? You can’t be this lame.
Why is this so hard? I’m being ridiculous. It’s a text. If he doesn’t answer then fine. But if he does…well, I’ll never know if I don’t hit send.
With my eyes squeezed closed, I send the text and feel like throwing up. The back of my throat burns, and my eyes sting.
My stomach tightens into a hard ball of nerves. Tonight has been a lot. Maybe I should take a shower and call it a night. As I walk to the apartment, my phone buzzes with a new message.
I clutch the phone, looking at the little message symbol mocking me.
Could it be Sully? Or maybe it’s Alice checking in.
My finger clicks on texts and opens the message.
Hey! You wanna come over?
Do I want to meet a rock star in his hotel? Yes. No. My pulse quickens, sending my heart into overdrive. If only I had Alice here. What would she do? Probably steal my phone and tell him I’d be over ASAP. Maybe even add a winky face because she’s evil.
What would be the harm in meeting with him? I could prove to Alice and myself that “the incident” didn’t ruin me forever.
I need to stop overthinking and act.
Yes. What’s the address?
My breathing is too loud, as if I climbed ten flights of stairs to my apartment instead of one. I step into my living room and lie on the couch, waiting for his response. He sends the address and his room number. I sit up too fast, causing a dizzy spell to spin my vision.
Am I doing this? I scan our lonely apartment. Being with a rock star is a hell of a lot better than binge-watching a TV show or falling asleep only to dream of what could have been.
I change into tight jeans ripped at the knees and a formfitting gray Jack Daniels shirt. It’s casual but gives the vibe of being open and willing to hang out. At least that’s what I’m telling myself as I grab my keys and walk out the door.
This hotel is one of the fanciest ones in Los Angeles. The floor is bright white with glittery swirls, and the walls are gray marble. There is a giant statue of a horse in the lobby, and above my head is the third chandelier I have spotted since coming inside.
Thankfully the people at the check-in desk are too busy processing a couple to notice me sneak past. I overhear them talking about Twilight and which team everyone is on.
Out of curiosity, I glance over my shoulder to see the female guest wearing a Twilight shirt from the movie.
She’s in a deep discussion about being on Team Edward with the girl behind the desk, and the bellhop isn’t having it.
The male guest shakes his head and fiddles with the hotel keycard, patiently waiting for his companion to stop gossiping.
I chuckle while walking down the hall and hit the call button for the elevator.
The elevator door slides open, and no one is inside. With this level of grandeur, I half thought there would be someone in here to work the elevator like in the movie Titanic.
I hit the top floor button, but nothing happens.
That’s when I read the sign saying you need to tap your keycard to reach your floor.
A flurry of nervous butterflies invades my stomach.
How will I explain who I am to Sully at the check-in desk?
Maybe I can text him and he will come get me. That wouldn’t be embarrassing.
As I argue with myself, a gentleman in a blue blazer steps inside. He flashes me a grin. “Floor?” he asks politely.
“Top floor please…” I say, offering a shy smile.
“Same.” He taps his card and hits the button.
I sigh in relief and stare at my shoes to avoid my reflection in the glass walls around me.
It never stops on another floor, which gives it the speed needed to fly to the highest floor as if it’s a rollercoaster. The gentleman lets me step out first and he turns left down the hallway, knowing where he’s going.
After a few seconds, I follow the signs until I’m standing at Sully’s hotel door.
Out of nowhere, I’m lightheaded, and my knees buckle.
Maybe this wasn’t the best idea. There are other things I could do to prove I’m not turning into a sad, boring person instead of meeting a guy in a hotel that I met for five minutes in a venue’s back alley.
My hand remains halfway up, ready to knock. I step back, in the middle of chickening out and fleeing to the elevator, when the door swings open.
“Oh, hey!” Sully says, flashing me a grin with two darling dimples and turning my words into mush.
“Are you leaving?” I ask in a voice almost too low to recognize.
“Thought I heard room service, but you’re even better.
” He opens the door wider, inviting me inside his bright, charming hotel suite.
The scent of fresh laundry and lavender soap swirls inside my nostrils.
He must’ve taken a shower. Thinking of him wet, standing only in a towel, sends warmth pooling in my belly and causes tingling between my thighs.
Stop thinking about it. Just smile and nod. You can function like a normal woman.
Sully offers his hand, and I place mine in his. He gingerly tugs me inside. There’s no worming my way out of this now. I stand tall and pray I don’t get tongue-tied when I look into his ocean-blue eyes as I step farther into his room, and the door closes behind me.