7. Chapter 7
PRESENT
HERO
I can tell I’m alone in bed without even opening my eyes.
After crashing out last night, sticky and exhausted on the couch, we woke up in the middle of the night and stumbled our way into the bedroom, trading a few sleepy kisses before falling right back to sleep.
That was hours ago now though, I can tell by the sound of birds outside and the sunlight that’s fighting my closed eyelids.
Sometime between crawling into my bed together, still naked and half-asleep, and right now, Onyx left.
If I open my eyes and roll over, will I find a note on his pillow?
Or maybe there will be a text waiting for me on my phone telling me he’s sorry, but something came up and he had to take off sooner than expected.
Maybe just a few hours in Fall Crosse last night was enough to remind him why he left the minute he turned eighteen.
Fuck, I’m dramatic before coffee.
I groan and roll over, confirming what I already knew, that Onyx’s side of the bed is empty.
There’s no note on the pillow, but there is an impression from his head.
At least that’s confirmation that I didn’t crack and imagine the whole thing last night.
I reach over and fist a handful of the bedspread. It’s cold. How long has he been gone?
I sit up and rub my eyes. It’s fine. I told myself from the beginning that I’d take what Onyx has to offer and be happy with it.
One night at a time or ninety, it’s better than none at all.
I scratch my beard and yawn, working up the energy to heave my ass out of bed.
I grab a pair of shorts out of my dresser and shuffle into the bathroom to take a piss and brush my teeth.
The crusted mixture of our cum is flaking on my belly—another confirmation that I didn’t hallucinate his visit, at least. I grab a washcloth and wet it, wiping myself somewhat clean. I’ll take a proper shower after coffee.
The house is quiet, and my heart sinks a little lower. He really is gone.
The familiar jingle of Diva’s bells doesn’t lift my spirit as much as it usually does, but I squat down to scoop her up when she comes around the corner anyway. It’s not her fault that her daddy is hopelessly smitten with a man who will never fit into our life.
“Hey there, baby girl. Are you looking for breakfast or did you just want to get some love?” I nuzzle the top of her head then tuck her into the crook of my arm like a baby to carry her into the kitchen. She mews and kneads my chest, not quite careful enough with her claws to keep me from wincing.
I set her down on the counter and open a can of wet food for her.
She gives me a meow of thanks and starts to chow down.
I swivel towards the coffee maker and find a pot already brewed and waiting for me.
He can’t have left long ago since it shuts off automatically after an hour.
It would have been nice if he’d woken me up to say goodbye.
I sigh and lean against the counter. Maybe I’ve been lying to myself. Maybe I’m not as okay with the scraps Onyx is able to give me as I want to be. Maybe—
“Is this staring contest you’re having with the coffee maker important to you, or can I interrupt it by refreshing my cup?”
Onyx’s voice startles a yelp from me. I spin around to find him leaning against the doorframe with one of my mugs in his hand and a wry smile twisting his lips.
He’s dressed similarly to me, in a pair of low slung shorts and nothing else.
I notice a few hickies I left on his chest last night, sucked onto the blank spots between the patchwork of his tattoos.
His hair is messy from sleep, and he has a composition notebook tucked under his arm.
“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me.” I put a hand over my racing heart and laugh.
“You thought I took off, didn’t you?”
I scoff and turn to open the cupboard where I keep my coffee mugs. “No.”
“Liar. You thought I left without waking you up and you were saaaaad.” There’s a teasing lilt in his voice that takes the edge off the accusation. He pads across the kitchen floor, and a second later, I feel the brush of his lips against the back of my shoulder. “Have I ever lied to you?”
I think back over the last four years of sporadic hookups and occasional steamy video chats, then shake my head.
No, he’s never lied to me. When he says he can give me two nights, he gives me two nights.
When he says he’s only passing through town and has a couple of hours, that’s what I get.
It’s just fucking impossible to wrap my head around the idea that he could be here for three whole months. There’s no way that’s real.
“Exactly.” He kisses my shoulder again. “Now move your ass. You’re blocking the coffee, and I am extremely unpleasant until I’ve had at least half a pot.” He nips at the same spot he just kissed, and I chuckle.
“I haven’t had any yet, rockstar, give me a damn second.
” I take my time filling my mug just to be a pain in the ass, and he groans dramatically, but waits his turn.
“I didn’t hear you when I got up,” I say conversationally, finally stepping out of the way to give him a chance to pour his own coffee.
“I was sitting out back.” He sets his notebook on the counter, far enough away from the coffee maker to be safe from any potential spills. “It’s so peaceful and quiet.”
Boring . I mentally supply the word he’s looking for. I’m sure a quiet morning listening to birds in my backyard is a nice change of pace for him, like a vacation to a cabin in the middle of nowhere, but he’ll be craving his real life again in no time.
“I have no clue where my phone is, and it’s so fucking liberating I can’t even tell you,” he says. “I just spent, like, an hour sipping coffee and free writing lyrics just for the hell of it.” Onyx sighs happily.
“It’s nice to get a vacation from your life once in a while.” I take a sip of my coffee and Onyx groans dramatically again, but this time it’s more of a happy sound than a playfully impatient one.
“It really fucking is,” he agrees.
I nod along for a second and then everything he’s saying comes together into a brilliant lightbulb moment.
He’s looking for a relaxing vacation, and I can definitely give him that.
I can’t make Fall Crosse exciting, but I can sure as hell pamper him and give him every reason to want to stay the full three months, starting right now.
“Do you want something to eat? I make a frittata that will knock your socks off.” I waggle my eyebrows.
“I’m not wearing any socks,” he deadpans.
“Well, go put some socks on and get ready to have them knocked off.”
He barks out a laugh then takes a sip of his coffee. “Alright, if you insist.”
Onyx saunters out of the kitchen. I watch him go for a second before turning to my refrigerator to pull out everything I’ll need to make him one world-class frittata.
I should really plan ahead and pick up a brisket to smoke this weekend, maybe start some chicken breasts marinating for dinner tonight too.
Food alone won’t be enough to impress him into hanging around, but it’s a start.
By the time I hear Onyx’s footsteps returning, I have a variety of ingredients scattered across the counter for dinner tonight and the frittata I’m about to make for him.
I glance over my shoulder and, sure enough, he has a pair of socks on now.
Not just any socks, but a mismatch of one of my favorite purple knee highs with unicorns and rainbows on them, and a hot pink one with fluffy white cats.
“How do you ever get out of the house on time with so many incredible pairs of socks to choose from?” He does a little strut into the kitchen and strikes a pose like he’s on a runway.
“It’s a problem,” I agree with a chuckle. “Now, sit your ass down and drink your coffee while I impress you with my mad culinary skills.”
ONYX
Hero wasn’t lying, the frittata is fucking incredible. My socks are still on, but that’s only because my toes got a little cold while I was sitting outside in nothing but a pair of shorts earlier.
I don’t know why we ended up eating in the kitchen, with my ass perched happily on the counter and Hero leaning next to me, but I’m not complaining. I swing my legs and hum a happy little song as I scrape the last bite into my mouth and then practically lick the plate.
“This is the second best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”
“Oh yeah?” Hero flirts, taking my empty plate and stacking it on top of his.
“Yeah, the first best thing was a fresh baked pain au chocolat from this little bakery in Quebec.”
He snorts a laugh. “You’re a laugh riot.”
“I know, right?” I loop a hand around his neck and drag him closer. He positions himself between my legs, just a smidge shorter than me for a change with me sitting on the counter. “I’m kidding. There isn’t a pastry in the world I’d rather put in my mouth than your dick.”
“Glad to hear it.” He slides his hands up my thighs and under my shorts, then smiles only an inch away from my lips. “Hey, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” I kiss the tip of his nose and ease my hold on him, but he stays right where he is between my thighs.
“With you crashing here for a few months, I’m wondering what you want me to tell the guys. They’re nosy as hell, they’re going to be crowing about it like a bunch of gossiping hens.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“Just that I know they don’t buy the ‘just friends’ thing, but with only seeing each other a few times a year and you giving me a shout out as your tattoo artist in that magazine article last year and everything, there’s plausible deniability.
But when I tell them you’re staying at my place for three months, they’re going to know we’re…
you know, whatever. And I guess I just wanted to know how you want me to handle that.
I can stick to telling them to mind their business, but I don’t want them to make you uncomfortable with their teasing either.
” He rambles a little, digging his fingers harder into my thighs, and I slowly put the puzzle together from the pieces he’s giving me.
“Wait, you’ve been telling them you’re just my tattoo artist for the last four years?
” It seems like that’s what he’s saying, but that can’t be right, can it?
Who the hell fucks a rockstar and doesn’t run around bragging about it to every person they’ve ever met?
That’s half the point of hooking up with a celebrity, isn’t it?
He shrugs. “Well, yeah. Like I said, I know they don’t actually buy it, but I figured as long as I stick to the story, they can’t prove anything.
I’m sure you get enough people sticking their nose into your private business, the last thing you need is me running my mouth about the filthy things we get up to. ”
I tangle my fingers in his beard and stare at him for a second. Is he for real?
“You’ve been lying straight to your best friends’ faces for four years to protect my privacy?”
Hero shrugs again. I tighten my legs around him and pull him closer to me until there isn’t an inch of space between us.
“You are too fucking sweet.” I kiss his lips and then bump my nose against his.
He rumbles a laugh. “I don’t know about that. So, what do you think? Should I just stick to the party line or what?”
I shake my head, the tips of our noses brushing again.
“Tell them I’m obsessed with you and as soon as they let me off the tour bus, I got in my car and drove straight here to break into your house, and now I’m refusing to leave,” I murmur, kissing him again.
“That’s even less believable than you crashing at my house for three months just for free tattoos.”
“Alright, then tell them I’m here to convince you to marry me and let me stay in Fall Crosse forever, drinking coffee and writing wonderfully peaceful songs about lazy mornings and delicious frittatas.”
Hero chuckles again. “You’re ridiculous. It sounds like you’re cool with me telling them the truth though?”
“Tell them whatever you want, sweetness.” I smack one last kiss to his lips, and he rumbles a happy sound in his throat.
I can tell he’s still not fully convinced that I’m actually planning to stay for three months. I guess it’s probably a good thing I haven’t told him the truth—that part of me is thinking about staying a hell of a lot longer than that. I don’t want to get his hopes up before I decide for sure.