Chapter 3
three
A few hours later, I pulled my Jeep into my covered parking spot. Micah must be home. My gaze snagged his black Mercedes SUV, parked next to me. I peeked at myself in the rearview mirror and primped my blond hair, still tousled from the afternoon hook-up. A red mark on my neck came into view. Anne marked me with a hickey . Tilting the mirror to see it better, I said, “Damn it.” I scowled as I fingered the mark.
After locking the Jeep, I stepped into the cooler evening air. A chill worked its way up my spine. Would Micah be on the beach? I strolled onto the walkway, crossed the street, and stopped at the edge of the bluff, and then scanned the beach below.
Micah’s dark form sat in the sand.
My heart skipped a beat. Perfect. Maybe I could finally figure things out.
Jogging back to my apartment, I grabbed a hooded sweatshirt from my closet. After pulling it on, I left and headed toward the path leading to the beach. At the bottom of the stairs, I stopped to breathe in the salty ocean air. My head swirled with a million questions for Micah, and this time, I intended to get some answers.
I stepped onto the sand with my arms crossed, stopping a foot behind him. Beyond us, a dog chased a stick thrown into the water by its owner, while the sun set behind a fog bank. A cool breeze whipped my long hair around. I couldn’t let his gorgeous face get to me this time. I needed to gather my inner strength.
He rocked, his head pressed to his forearms, his arms hugging his knees. His black hair fluttered in the wind, the hood of his sweatshirt resting on his back.
“What the hell?” I whispered, slumping my shoulders. My heart hurt. A vision flashed in my head of me, rocking just like that after my brother died, sitting on the floor next to the bed, waiting for the ambulance to arrive.
I stepped closer and sat down beside him, clearing my throat.
He lifted his head and looked at me with wet eyes. His gaze widened, and he jerked back on the sand, landing on outstretched arms. “What the fuck?”
“I-I’m sorry. I wanted to...” What did I want to do? My jaw clenched.
He swiped at his eyes and sniffled. “Y-you need to leave me alone.”
No one should be alone like this . I straightened my spine and slapped my palm on the sand between us. “No, I’m not leaving you alone. You can be an asshole all you want, but I’m not leaving you alone.”
His gaze flicked out to sea and came back. “Why would a rock star want to have anything to do with me?” He pointed at my neck. “Especially when you’ve got girls wanting to fuck you all the time?”
Heat rushed my face as I covered the spot on my neck, my bracelets sliding into my sleeve. I couldn’t let him throw me off. Focus. “Listen, I’ve, uh, been through some things.” I shimmied closer to him. “It looks like you’re going through a rough time, and...and I thought maybe you could use someone to talk to.”
He stared at the sand, his brows knitting. “No, I don’t. If I wanted to talk to people, I’d still be at home in Sunnyvale with my family and friends.”
I flinched. “Where is Sunnyvale?”
“It’s a suburb outside of San Jose.”
“So, you’re from the San Jose area? What are you doing out here?” I studied him. Maybe now I could figure him out.
“I’m getting away from people,” he said, his voice flat as he looked at me like he was seeing me for the first time.
I winced and pursed my lips. “What do you do there?” I took a deep breath. “I mean, do you have a job?”
“Of course I have a job.” He creased his forehead, his tone softening. “I’m a software engineer. I work at Tesla.”
I smirked. “So, you’re a smart motherfucker.” Who’d have thought? A quick laugh escaped me.
He straightened, and a hint of a smile played on his lips. “Yeah, you could say that.”
That almost-smile lit something inside me. I wanted more of it. “So, are you on vacation or something?” I crossed my legs in the sand and set my hands on my knees. I was finally getting somewhere.
“I’m on a leave of absence.” His gaze drifted far out to sea before coming back. He shifted position, mirroring me, his straight, dark hair dancing in the breeze.
“Oh. Like a three-month leave of absence?” How did that even work? Musicians didn’t get perks like that as far as I knew.
“Yeah.”
I needed to tread carefully with my questions. I ran an index finger through the sand. “So, you never asked me what my name?—”
“I know your name. You’re Ash Oakley, lead singer of The Swarm. ” His eyes narrowed. “Are you done?”
What the fuck just happened? I drew a sharp inhale. “What do you mean?”
“Are you done, you know, questioning me?” He turned toward the ocean, bringing his knees to his chest and wrapping his arms around them.
I studied his profile, the nose with a slight bump at the top, the full lips, the stubble on his jaw, the pale skin with a faint flush at his cheeks. “I’m not done.” I shifted closer, letting my side press against his. He didn’t move away. That had to be a good sign. I gazed at the waves with him.
“What else do you want to ask, then?” He breathed in deeply and rubbed his forehead with a trembling hand.
I need to make him see he doesn’t have to be alone. I snatched his hand, clenching it in mine. His skin was cool, and I warmed it with my touch. My heart pounded into my temples. Would this scare him off?
He twisted his head toward me, his breath hitching.
I held his gaze, staring deeply into his dark eyes. “Let me help you. Please talk to me.”
Tears welled in his eyes, and they glistened in the fading sunlight. He opened his mouth, then shut it again. “No one can help me.” He swallowed hard and pulled his hand free from mine. “I think you should leave me alone.”
“Damn it.” This was impossible. I hung my head. I had to get through. In a growl, I said, “My older brother died three years ago from a drug overdose. I know what grief feels like. Okay?” My vision blurred. My voice cracked. “He was my fucking world.” I blinked, and a hot tear escaped down my cheek.
He gasped and twisted toward me. Slowly, he extended his hand to my face, hesitated as his fingers touched my cheek, and drew the hand back to rest on his drawn-up knees. “I-I’m sorry.” He creased his forehead. “I guess I can’t help you, either.” He sunk his teeth into his lower lip.
I swiped the wetness from my cheek and took a quick inhale. “Wh-what?” I stared at him.
His head lowered to rest on his forearms. “Please, leave me alone.” His voice quivered.
“I-I’m not leaving you alone. You shouldn’t be alone. Not when you’re in such obvious pain.” I tentatively stretched my arm out and wrapped it around his shoulders, then drew him to my side. My heart raced. My breath quickened.
He relaxed into my hold, letting his head rest on my shoulder, and drew a ragged inhale.
He must be interested, enough at least. It feels good. Too good . I breathed in his scent, wood and spice mixed with ocean air.
He jerked out of my hold and scrambled over the sand, and then plopped on his ass and glared at me. “Stop it. N-never touch me again!” He looked away, then came back, his eyes blazing. “Guys like you never stop at the word no. Do they?”
“The fuck?” I glared at him. “What are you trying to say?” My gut wrenched. He had me all wrong. I wasn’t like that.
“I’m trying to tell you to leave me alone. But you’re not listening. I don’t want to be your...your friend.” The words spit out of his mouth. “I don’t need your help.” He stood and stomped down the beach with his arms crossed around his waist.
Under my breath, I said, “Holy shit.” I looked all around me, not seeing anything, then focused on him, still stomping down the beach. Should I go after him? Surely something was there between us. I felt it. I took a deep breath and rose, then slapped the sand from my jeans and hands. Maybe this was a challenge I couldn’t win. “I give up.” My attention drew to the stairway, and I walked toward it and my waiting apartment.
* * *
I sat on my couch with a movie playing on the television and gazed outside the patio doors at wisps of fog billowing by, shielding the dark night. My focus drew to my acoustic guitar resting on a stand in the corner.
I really wanted to get a few more songs flushed out before we hit the studio. But I couldn’t write any more music tonight. I had to get Micah out of my damn head first. The few lyrics I’d written had him all over them. How was I supposed to write about a person so broken? And if I kept this up, how much trouble would I be in if he didn’t feel the same? I needed to tone it down. With a heavy exhale, I looked at the plate of leftover sushi on the dinette.
I rose from the couch, threw out the rest of the sushi roll, rinsed the plate, and set it in the dishwasher. Maybe I should just go to bed? The dream of Micah in the fog rolled through my mind. How the fuck was I getting so consumed by him? Raising both hands to my temples, I tangled my fingers in my hair and peered at the clock on the stovetop. Already a quarter past midnight. “Damn it.” I dropped my arms.
I wanted to see if Micah was there on his patio. With my hands resting on the counter, I shifted on my feet. I shouldn’t though. I should leave it alone. With a sigh, I shuffled to the patio doors and opened them. God, I shouldn’t be doing this. I peeked my head around the corner of the door, looking toward his patio. Was he there?
He sat on the plastic chair, his knees drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped around them.
“Shit.” My heart hammered against my ribcage. I shouldn’t have looked. What was wrong with me? The rumbling of the waves rose from below the bluffs. A high-pitched sound floated over the waves. Damn it. I had to go.
I rushed to the couch, threw on my discarded sweatshirt, ran out my front door, and jogged to the slats of his patio wall. With a grunt, I jumped the wall, knelt down on my knees, and drew him into my chest from the side.
He buried his head in my neck, soft weeping slipping out of him, his body shaking.
I rested my hand on the back of his head, tightening my hold on him.
His knees dropped, his sneakers falling to the cement. He twisted in the chair and wound his arms around my waist, taking a ragged breath, holding onto me.
An ache grew in my heart. “It’s okay. I’m here.” The urge to kiss his head became unbearable. Should I? Or would that piss him off?
He lifted his head and gazed into my eyes. Tears made wet trails down his cheeks. “Why?” He sniffled, and his breath hitched.
I gave a slow shake of my head. “I-I don’t know.” Was he asking why I was there? Or was it a rhetorical question? I sure didn’t want to set off his anger by asking.
Dragging himself out of my arms, he stood. He swiped at his pale cheeks and sniffled again.
I rose to stand in front of him, placing my hands on his arms, just under the shoulders. We were about the same height.
His gaze found mine. “Why are you here?” He examined me, his eyes narrowing.
“Oh, I couldn’t sleep. I heard you and...” I combed a hand through my hair and furrowed my brows. “Please don’t be mad at me.” I glanced at the faraway ocean. The waves out there seemed to match how I felt. “I can’t just sit by and watch you cry like that.”
His gaze grew dark. “You shouldn’t be here.” His eyes glittered. “I’m not a good person. I’m not good...” His breath hitched.
That’s not true . I shouldn’t talk. Talking got me in trouble at the beach. I clenched my teeth and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, bringing him close again. For now, this would have to do.
He draped his arms around me, rested his face against my neck, and held on tightly.
Hot droplets fell on my neck. I twisted my head and placed a soft kiss on his hair. A jolt played up my spine. Would he know I kissed him? I shut my eyes. I’d wait this out. Damn, I hoped I hadn’t ruined everything. I couldn’t help myself.
He raised his head again.
I opened my eyes.
His gaze crept to mine, and he breathed in deeply. “I’m sorry about what I said at the beach. That wasn’t nice.”
I nodded. I should keep my mouth shut.
“Thank you for trying.” He freed me.
I dropped my arms from his shoulders.
“I-I’m going to bed now.” He stepped to his patio door, slid it open, stepped inside, and shut it with a soft click.
I released a breath of held air and stepped to the patio wall. Damn, that was close. Glancing at the glass of his door, I strained to see inside, but it was too dark. I jumped over the wall, strolled to my apartment and went inside, glancing at Micah’s front door, fantasizing about him opening it and stepping back into my arms. I shook it away. That would not happen. Thinking like that was a problem. I ambled inside and shut my door.
After turning off the television, the lights, and discarding my clothes, I climbed under the covers of my bed. I gazed at the ceiling but couldn’t sleep. Memories of Micah flooded my mind, the nasty comments, the anger, the grief. What the hell made him take a leave of absence from work, leave his friends and family, and just sit out here on the beach day after day?
He was a beautiful, unattainable mystery. Most things in my life had come to me so easily. Sure, I had to work hard...But I had pretty much everything I’d ever wanted, except for maybe Lane by my side onstage. But the women, even the men, were easy. Now this thing with Micah. It was not easy...
* * *
I fluttered my eyes open to filtered light floating in from around the blinds in my window. Reaching over to my nightstand, I picked up my cell phone. “Holy shit.” The screen read 11:30 a.m. Guess the morning surfing was out. I rose and wiped the sleep from my eyes. The memory of last night flickered through my mind. “Micah.” I drew a sharp inhale. Would he have been down at the beach, waiting for me this morning? Would he still be there? After last night, would he need me?
I stumbled out of bed, slid my closet door open, and grabbed a pair of jeans and my black Bob Dylan t-shirt. After walking the short hallway to my bathroom, I splashed water on my hair to fix it, then opened the mirrored medicine cabinet and rolled deodorant under my arms.
As I strolled to the door, I sat down on the floor to slip into my sneakers, grabbed my Jeep keys from the table, and left.
* * *
I pulled into the beach parking lot, looking for Micah’s Mercedes. Since his SUV wasn’t parked by my Jeep, he had to be out, and this was the most likely place. I spotted the SUV parked by some brick bathrooms and pulled in next to it, then climbed out and strode over the sand.
Holding my hand over my eyes, I scanned the beach for him. There he is. The usual spot .
He sat in the sand, knees drawn up with his arms wrapped around them and his head resting on his arms.
“Oh, thank God.” I ran to him and dropped in next to him, my legs tucking underneath me. “Micah.”
He didn’t move.
Was he sleeping? I shook his shoulder. “Hey, Micah.”
He lifted his head and gazed at me with unfocused eyes. With slow, deliberate words and the hint of a slur, he said, “Where have you been?”
“Are you stoned?” I looked him up and down. I’d seen this so many damn times before, but not outside of concert halls and tour buses. Or, I swallowed, besides Lane.
A dumb smile spread over his face. “What do you mean by stoned?”
“Are you high or what? What are you on?” I narrowed my eyes. What drug could he have taken? Should I check his arms for track marks? He wouldn’t do that, would he? Damn my head for always going there.
“I’m just high on life.” He let out a soft snicker.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I dipped my head, an exasperated exhale escaping my throat. I wanted to see him smile, but not like this. “Come on, tell me what you took.”
“It’s just a prescription. Nothing to worry about.” He brought his porcelain face close to mine. “It’s from my doctor. My head doctor.” He pointed to his head.
I took a deep inhale and pushed my lips together, cocking my head. “Have you eaten yet?” Depending on what he took, maybe I could dilute it somehow with food.
“No.” He glanced at the sand. “I was waiting for you, but you didn’t show up today. You didn’t surf.” A smile stretched over his lips. “I didn’t get to see your terrible surfing.” As a giggle erupted from his throat, he covered his mouth with his palm.
Asshole . I shook my head, a grin playing on my lips. “Okay. I’m going to try getting some food in you and then maybe bed.” I stood, grasped him by the arm, and hauled him up to standing.
“We’re going to bed together?” He grinned.
I’d sure like to, but not like this. As I wound his arm around my shoulder, I held his waist. “That’s not exactly what I meant.” I stepped us both toward my Jeep.
“But you did kiss me last night. I felt it.” He half-smiled at me.
I halted at the edge of the parking lot. “You did?” My eyes widened, and I looked him over.
“Yes. It’s okay. I don’t mind.” He rested his head on my shoulder. “It was nice.” He raised his head again.
So, maybe he wasn’t all the way straight. I let the hint of a smile play on my lips. “Let’s get you in the car.” I walked him to the passenger side of my Jeep and pushed him up into the seat. “Put the seatbelt on.”
“Okay.” He grabbed the seatbelt and hooked it around himself.
I got in, backed out of the parking lot, and glanced at him. He was already fast asleep, his dark head lolling forward.
“Damn.” What did he take to make him so fucked up? And why? This better not be a regular thing. It had the power to trigger terrible memories from my days with Lane. Habits that hadn’t served me well.
I drove down Highway One, heading toward our apartments.
Along the way, I stopped at the McDonald’s drive-thru, ordered a few burgers and fries, along with sodas, and then drove on.
I parked the car. Shit, I’d need both hands to get Micah inside. I grabbed the bag of McDonald’s and hustled to my apartment first. After dropping the food on the dinette, I headed back to my Jeep.
I opened the door and shook him. “Hey, we’re home.”
He didn’t move.
I shook harder. Raising my voice, I said, “Hey, Micah.” My pulse quickened as I shook him harder still. “Come on, wake up.”
Finally, he lifted his head and looked at me with dilated pupils. “Where are we? I was at the beach.” He twisted his head, looking around the Jeep.
“We’re home now. I came and got you.” I leaned over him, unhooked the seatbelt, and held out my hand. “Come on, I’ll help you down.”
He slapped my hand away. “I can do it myself.”
Fuck. Now I had to deal with angry Micah? I clenched my jaw, ready to catch him if he fell. I watched him make his way out of the Jeep, holding my arms out around him.
He stood on the asphalt and swayed, his gaze meeting mine. “See, I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.” I grabbed hold of his arms, moved him to the side, and closed the Jeep door. “Come with me.” I stretched my hand to him.
With a scowl, he grasped it.
I started guiding him down the walkway to my apartment.
He stumbled, teetering on one leg.
Scrambling to him, I grabbed him by the armpits. “Here, put your arm on my shoulder.” God, this was just like the times I’d had to pick up Lane from those nasty places where he got high. I sighed. If only I’d known... “Damn it.”
With his brows drawn together, he placed his arm around my shoulder.
I hooked my arm around his waist and walked him to my apartment door, sliding my keys out of my pocket.
“B-but my apartment is over there,” he said, twisting in my hold and pointing at his door.
“You’re coming inside my place to eat.” There was no way I was putting up with any crap. I was so done with this shit. I got him inside and set him down on the couch.
He peered around the room with an unsteady gaze.
Grabbing the bags of food and sodas, I sat on the couch. “I hope you like McDonald’s.” I opened the bag.
“McDonald’s?” He tensed his face, grimacing.
“Too bad. You need to eat.” I pulled out a cheeseburger, unwrapped it, and shoved it at him. “Eat this.”
He grabbed the burger, took a bite, and stared at the coffee table.
“Do you want some soda?” I held up the cup, the straw poking out of the lid.
He nodded.
I handed him the soda.
He took a long gulp from the straw. “I’m so thirsty.” He took another long gulp, then another bite of the burger.
Studying him, I bit into my cheeseburger. Who did I have sitting on my couch right now? Was it the giddy Micah from the beach, or the angry Micah from the parking lot? Or something else entirely? It was amazing how quickly this guy’s mood changed. Drugs seemed like a plausible answer. I should be careful. “So... are you okay to talk to me or are you going to get angry?”
He finished the last of his burger and swigged his soda, then gazed at me, his head swaying. “I won’t get angry.”
“Can you tell me what you took?” If he was on heroin, I was out. I took a deep breath.
“Xanax. My doctor prescribed it for me.” He lifted his chin and glared at me.
“How much? And why?” I twisted to face him. How could something like that cause him to be so high? Should I believe him? After all, addicts loved to lie.
He looked away and pursed his lips. “Enough. I was tired of having feelings.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “I’m so tired of having feelings...” He dropped his head forward.
I hooked an arm around his shoulders and drew him into my chest. Damn, it hurt to see him like this. What else could I do for him?
“I’m tired.” He sighed.
“Want to lie down?” I let go enough to drop my face close to Micah’s pale skin.
“Yes.” He twisted his face into my shoulder.
“Okay.” I released him and rose from the couch, snatching his hand, then tugged him up to standing. “You can rest in my room.” I led him around the corner and into my bedroom, then helped him lie down on the bed. I sat next to him with my hand resting on Micah’s side, looking him over. What happened to him? Could I ask, or would that set off a chain reaction of anger? Best to leave it be for now and maybe wait until he was sober.
He gazed at me, his long bangs falling over his eyes, and placed his hand over mine. He squeezed. “Lay down with me.”
I stared at him. What? “Sure.” What did he want? Did he just want someone with him, or was he looking for something more? We couldn’t do anything, not when he was like this. I climbed on the bed behind him and lay down.
He rolled on the bed, grabbed my hand, and tugged my arm around him. “Closer.”
I shimmied up behind him, my chest touching his back, my arm wrapped around his torso. I inhaled, fighting to calm my nerves. He definitely couldn’t be straight. I searched the back of his black head of hair. Lust flooded all my senses. My cock ached and swelled inside my jeans. My breath became heavy.
His breath became deep and rhythmic. His chest rose and fell.
Slowly, I lifted onto an elbow enough to look down on his face. Fast asleep. I lowered myself to the bed. The tension inside me coiled. I shut my eyes. What should I do? There was no way I could stay here.
He shifted on the bed, pressing his tight ass into my solid cock.
A spark of pleasure pulsed up from my groin. I released a sharp groan. Definitely can’t stay here . My whole body hummed with sensitivity. But damn if I didn’t want to rock my hips forward. If I did that, I couldn’t stop. The last thing I wanted was to take advantage of his condition. Especially after the accusation he’d made on the beach.
I carefully withdrew my hand from Micah’s and my arm from his side, then rolled onto my back. Once there, I waited. Need shivered inside me. My mind overflowed with images of kissing him, touching him, sucking him, and making him come. I stepped off the bed, being careful not to jostle it too much, then ambled down the short hallway to my bathroom.
Once there, I locked the door and unfastened my jeans. As I propped myself on the wall in front of the open toilet, I slid my hand underneath, grasped my hard cock, and stroked. Sweet pleasure shuddered through my body. I shut my eyes. In my mind, I kissed Micah while pumping his cock. In my mind, he let out needy moans and rocked his hips, wanting more. My peak teased me. I pumped faster. My breath quickened. I bit my lower lip, stifling an urgent groan. The pleasure built, and I surrendered, letting the delicious waves of orgasm release. My cum spilled into the toilet and over my fingers. As it all slowed, I slid down the wall to sit on the tile floor, panting.
A minute later, I came to my senses and opened my eyes, looking around me. I rolled out some toilet paper, cleaned myself up, and threw it in the toilet. With a deep inhale, I stood, flipped my cock into my jeans, and fastened them. As I stepped to the door, my mouth twisted. What was Micah doing to me? I wanted to protect him. I wanted to take away his pain. I wanted to be there for him. I’d never quite felt this way about a man before. Or about anyone, for that matter. And my body’s reaction to being that close. I couldn’t deny the fact that I lusted after him.
I unlocked and opened the door, then stepped to the main room, grabbed my guitar, and picked it up. As I sat on the couch, I set the guitar in my lap, in playing position with my right arm draped over the side, and my other hand at the frets. I slid a pick out from under a string at the head and strummed a G chord. Finally, I could play.