Chapter 44 - Roxie
Roxie
I felt like my entire world had been changed.
When it came to butt stuff, I—and all the women I knew—had always been skeptical. It was something men enjoyed, but that women had to tolerate. A one-sided sexual act that wouldn’t be fun at all.
It turned out that wasn’t the case at all.
I was shocked by how much I enjoyed it. Sure, it was uncomfortable at first. There was a little stretching and some pain. But once I relaxed and got into it? Holy moly, it was incredible. Intense and stimulating in such a unique way.
I could understand why some women said it wasn’t for everyone. That certainly seemed true. But it was definitely for me. Already, I couldn’t wait to do it again.
But only after some time had passed, because I was sore.
“I know that look,” Violet said to me on the bus the next morning while the guys went to get coffee. “Hurting a little bit?”
“Yes,” I winced. “Kind of reminds me of the soreness I felt when I lost my virginity. My actual virginity, I mean.”
“It gets better,” she promised me. “A lot of women I know never get past that first attempt. I’m glad you did!”
I sat next to her on the couch. “Did you have anything to do with it? Because it feels like an awfully big coincidence that you mentioned trying the back door just the other day, and then suddenly Milo is suggesting it during sex.”
Violet shrugged her shoulders dramatically. “Who could possibly know the answer to that question?”
The two of us giggled as the bus door opened and the men returned with the coffee.
“Why do I get the impression you two were just talking about us?” Riot asked suspiciously.
“Because that’s exactly what we were doing,” Violet replied.
Everyone was in good spirits now that the Seattle rain had passed. The city that was known for its grunge music loved the show that night, so much so that Riot added an extra song to the encore.
The next day, we began driving home.
Not for good—just for Thanksgiving. There were no stops scheduled on the tour between November 16 and December 1, so we were heading back to Texas for a much needed rest.
But I felt vaguely sad that we were pausing the trip right as things were getting good.
The drive back to Texas was a long two days.
Thirty-three hours total. I offered to alternate driving with Cash so we could drive through the night without stopping, but everyone else was emphatically against that.
“Not because we don’t trust your driving,” Cash quickly said.
“But because we have a strict no-driving-while-people-are-sleeping policy.”
“None of us want to become another Cliff Burton,” Riot added. “He was the original bassist for Metallica. He was sleeping in a bunk when the bus crashed.”
“And that’s why we’re parking for the night at a rest stop,” Cash said.
“You’re irreplaceable, buddy!” Milo threw an arm around Cash and gave him a squeeze. “I don’t care if it takes longer to get home. Just get us there safe.”
The drive through Utah and Colorado was absolutely beautiful, especially along the Million Dollar Highway from Ouray to Durango.
I pressed my face against the window and stared at the jagged mountains.
Even ignoring all the other amazing things about joining the band on their tour, it was worth it just because I’d been able to see so much of the country.
We dropped Violet off at her home in Round Rock, just north of Austin.
Dana was waiting in a rocking chair on the front porch, but came running forward to hug Violet when she emerged from the van.
We gave them some privacy (while watching intently from the bus windows) before climbing down the steps to say hi.
“Heard a lot about you,” Dana said when I introduced myself.
“Don’t believe a word of it,” I said with a nervous laugh.
“It was all good things. Don’t worry.” Dana came in close to hug me, but she didn’t pull away. She whispered, “Vi is the most precious thing in the world to me. If you ever threaten that, I will slice you open from cunt to collar.”
“Baby, you’re being extra again,” Violet said.
Dana pulled back and smiled like nothing was wrong. “I’m just telling the groupie to watch out for you.”
Violet rolled her eyes like this was something she was used to. “Dana is a jealous bitch, but that’s what I love about her.”
“One of many things you love,” Dana replied, giving her another kiss.
We rolled into Austin half an hour later.
Cash parked the bus in a long-term parking lot, and we climbed down with bags of enough belongings to last us the two-week break.
Milo was visiting one of his foster siblings in West Texas, while Cash was going to visit his pre-med sister at Florida State since she didn’t get any time off for the holiday.
We said our goodbyes, and then it was just Riot and me standing there.
“Well,” he said, hand sliding down to cup my ass. “Your place, or mine?”
“Mine’s closer,” I said.
He smiled. “I like the way you think.”
We took an Uber back there and headed straight for the bedroom.
Meghan had stopped by a few times while I was gone to run the vacuum and make sure the place hadn’t burned down, so it was as clean as I had left it two months ago.
Riot practically threw me onto the bed, then stripped his shirt to reveal his tattoo-covered form.
“Been waiting for this,” he said in a lust-filled voice. “Now I can really take my time with you.”
He then proceeded to slowly climb on top of me and kiss every inch of my body.
We made love in my own bed, in my own apartment, for the next two hours.
He came quickly during our first round, then used his mouth and fingers on me until he was ready to go again—and made the second time last much longer.
“I have strong opinions about your choice of decorations,” he said while we cuddled together after, covered in sweat and too exhausted to move.
“Such as?”
Riot pointed to the far wall. “Chappell Roan? Really?”
“She’s great!” I argued.
“I thought you like hard rock.”
“I have diverse music tastes. I like everything.”
“Even country?”
“Some. It’s not my favorite genre, but there are a few artists who break the mold. I dislike the generic country music that’s only about beer and trucks, though.”
“We call that Stadium Country Music,” Riot replied. “And since you hate it, I can tolerate your other tastes. Like that red splotch on the wall by the window.”
“Hey! That’s art!”
“It’s a square with two colors.”
“Modern art is still art. My friend painted that for me. She sells her artwork online for thousands of dollars.”
“There’s a sucker born every day.”
I started sputtering a response to him, and he laughed and pulled me closer. “I’m just pushing your buttons. You’re cute when you’re offended.”
“Glad you’ve learned what my buttons are,” I said.
“And not just the buttons that annoy you.” His hand drifted over my thigh, edging closer to the spot between my legs.
“Nope,” I replied. “I’m officially sexed out for the evening.”
“I was willing to go again if you were, but yeah. I think I’m all tapped out.”
“What are your Thanksgiving plans?” I asked. “For the whole break, not just the holiday. You told me you were sticking around Austin, but nothing more than that.”
“Nothing planned. Figured I’ll see what happens.”
That felt like an invitation, so I said, “I’m catching up with friends while I’m home, and I have a lot of graphics design work to do, but otherwise my calendar is clear. You and I could have a lot of fun. You’re welcome to hang here with me as much as you want.”
“I’m actually looking forward to the solitude,” Riot replied in an even tone. “I need to recharge my batteries after being on the tour bus for two months. My creative juices really flow when I have a big chunk of time alone, too.”
“Ah, okay.” I started to suggest that we hang out next weekend, giving him a full week alone, but then he said something else.
“I’ll see you when we pick up the tour again.”
Riot left a little while later, and then I was alone in my apartment for the first time since September. An overwhelming sense of sadness washed over me, tinged with the hurt of rejection.
Why didn’t Riot want to be around me?
It shouldn’t have bothered me, except that I’d spent the last few days fantasizing about the two week break and how Riot and I would spend it. I’d pictured a lot of nights just like this one, making love until we couldn’t move and then lazily lounging around without anything on the schedule.
It made me spiral about what was going to happen after the tour was over in December. Would Riot—and the other two bandmates I was sleeping with—want to continue things with me?
Or were they expecting our sexy fun to end with the tour?
“Hold on one second,” Meghan said at Thanksgiving. She had a bowl of mashed potatoes in her arm while I was making a green bean casserole. “He doesn’t want to see you at all during the break?”
“Nope.”
“Not even, like, for lunch? Or coffee? Or dinner one night?”
“Is that bad?” I asked.
Meghan’s husband Jeff cleared his throat. He was over at the bar, mixing a mocktail for his pregnant wife.
“I’ll let the professional answer,” Meghan said. Jeff was a therapist specializing in couples counseling.
“It’s normal for Riot to set healthy boundaries,” he explained with his back turned to us. “Prioritizing himself, and his own mental health, isn’t a red flag by itself. Especially considering he’s been on a cramped tour bus for the last eight weeks.”
“But…?” I asked.
He walked over with the drinks, placing the non-alcohol one in front of Meghan and the potent one in front of me.
“But,” he said with a grimace, “it would be weird if you two didn’t see each other at all over a two week period.
Especially since you said he lives fifteen minutes away. That’s not that far.”
I groaned and downed half the drink in three gulps.
“I wouldn’t catastrophize just yet,” he said. “Give him a few days. See if he reaches out. Maybe he just needed some time to himself first. If he’s really that into you, then he won’t be able to wait the whole two weeks.”
“And if he doesn’t reach out?”
He dipped his finger into the mashed potato bowl. “Then I guess you should enjoy the rest of the tour before it ends.”
“Enough talking about the sad stuff,” Meghan insisted. “This is Thanksgiving! Tell us more about the tour!”
I gave them a toned-down version of the fun we had in the equipment van, which had the added effect of cheering me up. By the end of the night, I wasn’t worried anymore. I was sure that Riot would call.
But he didn’t.