Chapter 3
Chapter Three
I hadn't known what to expect from my first rock show. I'd thought it'd probably be loud, but I didn't realize it would nearly burst my eardrums. I'd figured the fans up front would be excited, but I never would have imagined they'd have tears streaming down their cheeks.
I also had no idea just how sexy someone could look holding a guitar. Because Nathan was beyond sexy. He took command of that stage, strutting back and forth, edging toward the pit so low he could touch the crowd's flailing hands, and throwing teasing winks and grins at the girls, and even a few boys, who cried out his name.
I tried to stay out of the way of the crew members, but with my eyes trained on Nathan the whole time, I found myself jostled and nudged to the side when I wandered too close to the stage. I wanted a closer look at the rock god playing to his audience. I wanted a closer look at the man who made my head go fuzzy. The man who sent my heart racing. The man who made my insides squirm and spark.
As much as I was enjoying the music, I was secretly counting down the minutes until he finally left that stage and came back to me. I didn't know what would happen when he returned, but I was more than happy he'd asked me to stay.
The concert wound down. The band played their last encore song and threw guitar picks and drumsticks to the surging crowd of bodies. Assistants and crew members rushed to their sides as they left the stage. I lingered a few feet away, not wanting to impose. Nathan was toweling off his sweat-dampened hair when our eyes met. He handed the towel to the girl standing next to him and made his way over to me.
"Hey, gorgeous," he said. "Enjoy the show?"
I nodded enthusiastically. "You were great out there."
"Always am." His grin was so boyishly cute I didn't even mind the display of ego. "The band's heading over to a club after this. You should come."
"Club? I don't know…" I hesitated.
"Don't tell me you're a club virgin, too?" he asked.
I stayed silent, pursing my lips.
"You can't miss out on this," he said, oddly earnest yet insistent. "This club is awesome. They make the best drinks. I'll buy you one."
"I don't really?—"
I stopped when he chuckled and shook his head. "Let me guess. You don't drink, either?"
"I'm not against it. I just don't make a habit of it."
"I'll get you something weak and sugary, how's that?"
I contemplated the offer. Going clubbing and getting drunk with a rock star and his friends. It didn't sound like real life. It didn't sound like my life.
But maybe it could be. What was stopping me from going ahead with this crazy adventure? I'd missed out on so much of life already. Wasn't it about time I lived a little? And who better to do that with than a cocky rock star? I was sure Nathan knew how to have fun.
"Sure," I said. "Let's go clubbing."
"Awesome." He looked more pleased than seemed reasonable. "It's just around the corner. Let me change and we can head over."
I waited around until he returned wearing a plain black t-shirt. He'd kept on the tight jeans. Without any input from my brain, I found my eyes roving over his inked arms and broad shoulders.
"So what's your preference?" he asked when he noticed me staring. "Creepy-stalker-mode or rock star sex god?"
I decided to play along. "Ball caps do nothing for you, but spiked accessories are a bit too much. You can't go wrong with jeans and a t-shirt."
Especially when they looked painted on.
"I'll remember that for next time," he said.
Next time. My heart thumped a heavy beat.
"You're also the jeans and t-shirt type," he noted, gesturing to my outfit.
"Is there something wrong with that?" I asked. "I've been getting weird looks all night."
"It's not just your clothes," he said, his eyes roving all over my body. "It's you."
That sounded a little too close to the questioning you? the bouncer had thrown at me.
"Is there something wrong with me?" I challenged.
"There's not a single thing wrong with you," he said. "Just different." Nathan discreetly pointed to where his lead singer was standing around, chatting with another band member. "See her?"
I certainly did. The young woman looked maybe one or two years older than me, with long, striking red hair flowing down her back, matching red lips, a leather kilted skirt and black combat boots. She was the definition of bad-ass rocker-chick.
"And see them?" Nathan pointed to a trio of girls still in the pit in front of the stage, snapping selfie after selfie.
They also had faces full of dark, dramatic makeup, in contrast to my own quick swipe of mascara and tinted lipgloss. Two had bright neon hair, one pink and one green. The green haired one had half her head shaved. Their outfits ranged from tight black leather bodycon dress to artful shredded band t-shirt and miniskirt. All three of them were effortlessly fashionable and painfully cool.
And I was definitely not.
"At least I'm wearing black," I joked.
"There's nothing wrong with what you're wearing," Nathan said. "You just don't look like our typical fans, that's all."
"That's because I'm not."
"Ouch," he faked a wince. "A blow to my ego. I thought you said you liked my music?"
"I won't turn it off if it comes on the radio."
"You're killing me here, gorgeous."
Nathan put an arm around my shoulder. I stared as his finger ran slow circles along my collarbone. He took a step toward the exit. I nearly tripped, still focused on the way his thumb pressed into my skin.
"Come on," he said. "The club isn't far away."
We went out the side door. The bouncer/bodyguard gave the two of us a look before snapping his eyes forward. I remembered what he'd said before. I was the only name on that list. Were there usually multiple names on Nathan's list? How many girls did he regularly invite to his rock shows?
How many did he invite out clubbing after?
The thought made me uncomfortable, so I shoved it away. I was having a fun night. I didn't want to ruin it by overthinking. It didn't matter, anyway. His playboy ways would only make this easier on both of us.
As we walked, the crisp night air sent chills though my body. Nathan hugged me closer to his side.
"We're almost there," he promised. "The body heat from dozens of sweaty bodies will warm you up."
"Ew." I crinkled my nose up. He laughed.
When we reached the club, Nathan breezed through the front door with a single nod to the bouncer, ignoring the others waiting in line. Being a rock star had its perks.
"Aren't you worried you'll get mobbed by fans?" I asked.
"This is a more upscale club," he explained. "Socialites and wannabe internet celebrities, mostly. They know better than to cause a scene."
I nodded as if it made complete sense, but inside I was taken aback. A club just for the rich and famous? I didn't know those things existed in real life either.
It seemed like Nathan and I were both surprised at the way each of us had experienced the world. I couldn't think of two more different lives people could lead. It wouldn't have surprised me if we had nothing in common.
Nothing aside from the heat in his eyes when he looked at me, because I was sure my own reflected the same.
"Let me get you that drink," he said.
Nathan led us to a bar and lifted his chin to get the bartender's attention. He ordered some multi-colored concoction with a layer of something dark pink at the bottom, blue in the middle, and white on top. Little round red things floated in the glass. I looked at it skeptically.
"Try it," Nathan urged. "Those are just pomegranate seeds."
I took a small sip. My eyes went wide. "This tastes like a Popsicle!"
"It's called a Rocket," he said. "Like it?"
"I love it," I said. "I can't taste the alcohol at all."
"Better make sure I don't get you drunk," he said with a wink. "Don't want you falling down and throwing up all over my shoes."
"Gross," I laughed. Nathan could be charmingly cute, when he wasn't being arrogant.
He had gotten himself a plain beer. He guided us to a free table in a dark corner. This time instead of putting his arm around my shoulder, he put it around my waist. His warm hand rested on my hip. I felt the heat of him through my jeans. The flush on my face had nothing to do with the body heat in the club.
Nathan took a sip of his beer and eyed me over the bottle. When he put it down, he pinned me down with a stare. I played with my glass, wondering what was going through his head. Wondering what he was going to say next.
"So you enjoyed the show?" he asked.
Whatever I'd expected, that wasn't it.
"You were awesome," I said. "I don't know if I would have liked being shoved around in the mosh pit, but it was nice listening backstage."
"Nice?" He chuckled. "Our shows have been called a lot of things, but I don't think nice is one of them."
"There's nothing wrong with nice," I said. "It's a compliment."
"Usually people say our shows fucking rock."
"All right, you fucking rocked."
He mocked a gasp. "Did I really hear those words from such pure lips?"
"How do you know I don't swear?" I challenged. "Maybe I have a mouth worse than a sailor."
"You called my rock show nice ," he pointed out.
"Why did you even ask what I thought of the show?" I said with a laugh. "You must know how amazing you are."
"I do," he agreed. "But it's always nice to hear it come from someone else's mouth."
"You have no shortage of ego, do you?"
"It's not ego if it's true." His eyes twinkled. "I'm hot shit at what I do and I know it. But…" he trailed off. A brief look of hope crossed his face. "I would like to do something on my own, some day. Maybe even just write a solo song for the next album. Play it acoustic on stage. Or whatever," he said quickly, turning back to his drink, looking flustered. "It's just an idea."
"I think it sounds wonderful," I said. "If you want to do something solo, I'm sure you'd be great at it."
He lifted his gaze from his drink, giving me a considering look. "So what do you kick ass at?" he asked, changing the subject.
"I—" I closed my mouth, thinking. "I'm not sure. I know I definitely haven't found my calling like you've seemed to."
"Don't you work with kids?" he asked.
"I'm not a nurse or anything. I just volunteer there." I could feel his eyes on me, even as I concentrated on my drink. "I mostly keep to the children's ward. The little ones can get kind of stir crazy, being cooped up. Playing with them helps take their minds off everything, you know?"
"I get that," he said.
His quiet tone made me look up. His eyes were clouded over and distant, a somber expression on his face.
"Is your friend okay?" I asked.
He blinked. His expression turned questioning. "Friend?"
"The one you were visiting," I said. "I hope they're doing better now. If they're stuck in the hospital for much longer, maybe I can do something? Keep an eye out to make sure they've got stuff to keep them entertained. Maybe visit a few times to keep them from getting lonely?"
The questioning look on Nathan's face faded. His eyes turned almost soft as he stared at me. "That's sweet of you to offer. But I think she'll be out soon." His lips twitched downward, fighting back a disheartened frown. "It's just a few more tests."
I knew all too well a few tests didn't always mean things were going well.
"Are you sure everything is okay?" I asked him.
"Yeah," he said quickly. "Everything's cool."
Everything clearly wasn't cool, but I wasn't going to press. Rock star or not, this guy was still a stranger.
"Sounds to me like you have found your calling," he said. "Working with kids is a noble pursuit."
"I've never thought of it that way. I just wanted to throw myself into something to distract me from—" I stopped, cutting myself off abruptly. I looked down into my glass. "Just to keep me busy, I suppose," I finished.
"No, I get it," Nathan said. "Sometimes you need something else to concentrate on that isn't your own life. You need to focus on something else outside of yourself. As an escape, almost."
"That's exactly it," I said, wondering how and why he could articulate what I was feeling so easily. "So it's always been music for you?"
"Always." The fierce gleam in his eyes proved the truth of his words. "I only ever wanted to be a musician when I grew up. People always tried to talk me out of it but I never listened."
"Looks like you showed them all," I said.
"I'm not going to rub it in anyone's face, but it's a nice feeling to prove to everyone I could do it."
"I get it," I said. "It feels really great to beat the odds, doesn't it?"
He looked at me curiously. "What odds did you beat?" he asked.
"Oh, you know," I waved my hand around, panicking a little because I didn't know how to answer. "Just the usual teenaged things."
Nathan cocked his head and opened his mouth to further question me. I hurried to speak first.
"So how long have you been with Cherry Lips?" I asked. "Were they your first band?"
"No," he said. "I used to be with this other band but…" His eyes went dark. He picked at the label on his beer bottle. "Things didn't work out. I joined Cherry Lips afterward. Actually…" When he lifted his eyes back up to mine, there was a more good- humored expression on his face. "We were rival bands at first. Gael and I used to give each other shit all the time. I hated that fucker."
I knew Gael Moreau was the bassist and brother to the lead singer. The fond grin on Nathan's face told me he'd long since gotten over that hatred.
"What changed?" I asked.
He flicked his eyes over my shoulder, avoiding my gaze. "I had some stuff going on back then, when I left the band. Gael helped me through it. Or more like, we got into a fight, tried our best to beat the shit out of each other, and when Gael won, he pinned me down and told me to get my shit together." Nathan snorted in amusement.
"He sounds like a good friend to have," I said. "Minus the beating you up part."
"I gave as good as I got," Nathan said. "That asshole has been my wingman ever since. Or he used to be, at least." He took another drink and avoided my eyes, looking oddly sad.
I wanted to ask him what he meant by that. I didn't know how personal he'd be willing to get, but I was intrigued by him. I wanted to get to know him. Maybe we weren't as different as I'd thought. Maybe we'd both experienced hardships.
But I was afraid if I opened the doors to those kind of personal questions he'd expect the same of me.
Besides, I reminded myself. This was supposed to be a fun, carefree night. No asking probing questions. I was planning to let loose and enjoy myself.
I was about to ask if he wanted to get another drink when Nathan put down his bottle and nodded toward the dance floor.
"Do you like to dance?" he asked.
I looked dubiously at the grinding couples feeling each other up in public. "Is that what that's called?"
"Don't tell me," he said. "You've never been felt up on a dance floor, either?"
"Of course not!" My face flamed.
"It seems to be a night for firsts." His smile spread into a naughty grin. "Want to give it a try?"
"Uh—" A panicky sort of flutter took hold in my stomach, but the heat in Nathan's eyes soon turned that panic into something else. Something daring. Something shameless.
This time I was the one who took his hand.
"Sure," I said as I pulled him toward the swarm of bodies. "Let's dance."
He put his other hand against the small of my back and pulled me close. I gasped as our hips fit together neatly. He rocked against me in time to the music. I followed his movements, rolling my hips and pressing against his chest. The heat in my cheeks flowed down my body, settling between my legs. A slow ache began to throb, a long-forgotten sensation.
As we swayed, he ran his hands up and down my back, going from my neck all the way down to the swell of my ass. He didn't quite cup my backside, but his fingers certainly lingered. I took the opportunity to run my hands up and down his chest, enjoying the firm muscles beneath my palms.
He brought his hands around to my hips and squeezed. He brought one knee forward, nudging gently between my legs. I parted them, letting his firm thigh press against my core. The pressure turned that aching into a painful throb.
I let out a slow, shuddering breath. I pulled back to meet his eyes. There was a hunger in them. I wet my lips. His gaze flicked down to my mouth. His pupils widened. He turned his head, looking around, until he found the exit. He opened his mouth.
Something bold and fearless inside me stirred.
I knew what he was going to say. I beat him to it.
"You want to get out of here?" I asked.
His hands squeezed my hips again, and this time he was the one to wet his lips and speak.
"Your place or mine?"