Chapter 20
Derek
After that night, Allegra ices me out. Her responses to my questions are clipped, one-word answers. She skims my touch, and meets my searching looks with blank expressions.
But her eyes are her giveaway. They’ve always been expressive, easy-to-read, even easier to desire. And behind their muted anger, hunger rages. I want it to consume me.
But things with the boys are finally right again. The band is hitting our summer stride, making good music, and gearing up to head overseas for our European tour. It’s fast approaching—just a few more weeks and we’ll be all over Europe.
Mav can’t stop gushing about the girls.
Levi can’t stop talking about the drugs.
Jameson can’t stop whining about leaving Amelia behind.
And I…I don’t know what I want anymore.
Maybe that’s why I’m standing in the hallway, my arms crossed over my chest, waiting for Allegra to come out of the bathroom. I’ve taken up my post from the moment I heard the shower turn off. That was at least ten minutes ago.
What is she doing in there?
I glance down the hall. With my luck, Levi or Mav will lope by and wonder what the hell I’m doing, creeping on Allegra like this.
My jaw tics and I straighten my stance.
I hate the way she’s looked at me over the past week. Looked through me. Like she can’t bear to make eye contact. Like deep down, she resents me.
It’s fucked, is what it is. I know I can’t have her, but I can’t let her go. Not entirely.
The bathroom door swings open and Allegra scurries through the doorway. A pale grey towel is wrapped around her body. Her hair is damp, hanging down her back and framing her face with waves and loose curls.
I step forward. “Allegra.”
She freezes. Takes a moment to rearrange her expression. Glares at me. “What do you want?”
“To talk,” I admit, my tone hoarse.
Her eyebrows dip and a flash of pain streaks across her face. It’s shooting-star fast. If I had blinked, I’d have missed it.
My stomach twists painfully at the knowledge that I’ve hurt her. Deeper than I could have imagined.
“I miss you,” I add, surprising myself with my honesty.
“I don’t believe you,” she whispers, her voice cracking.
I inch closer, and she retreats. My hand grazes her hip, my palm skimming the softness of her towel. “Yes, you do.”
Her back meets the hallway wall, and she cranes her neck back to meet my eyes. “Why’d you do it?”
My heart thumps and my hand at her side closes into a grip, tugging on her towel and threatening to expose her. Her arms remain limp at her sides, her eyes glued to mine. It’s as if her nakedness would only be a distraction now. She doesn’t care for any more distractions.
I sigh. “We were getting too close, Allegra. This”—I step into her, pressing the length of my body against hers—“is never going to be a thing.”
“It already is,” she counters, arching her chest into mine. She shudders and I know she wants the physical contact, the connection, as much as me.
I war with myself. “Not a real thing,” I finally spit out. I want to warn her away just as badly as I want to rip the towel from her hot body and drop to my knees. Palm her ass and bring her sweet pussy to my mouth. Drink her nectar and feel her thighs quiver. Make her break on my tongue.
Heartbreak blossoms in her expression and she blinks slowly. I dip my head, breathe her in, vanilla and soap and sunshine. Fuck, I could get lost in my Stellina.
Her hands come up and slam into my chest, pushing me back. Since I wasn’t expecting it, she catches me off guard, and I stumble. Scowl at her.
“Then stop playing games with me, Derek,” she bites out, her voice low, her eyes flashing. “But I call bullshit. You want me. You want this.” She gestures along her body.
My mouth drops open and her mouth twitches, more satisfaction than smile.
“I’m not the insecure seventeen-year-old girl you gave a first kiss to anymore,” she hisses.
Her towel loosens and she grips the fabric tighter to her side, keeping it in place.
It dips slightly, showing more of her perky, rounded breasts.
Her chest rises and falls, her panting in unison with her beats of anger. Hurt.
“I know what I want now. I know what I deserve.” She shakes her head, flicks her fingers between us. “And you’re right, this bullshit isn’t it.” With that, she turns on her heel and strides into her bedroom, closing the door behind her with a snick.
I listen as the lock catches and turns.
“Fuck.” I scrub a hand over my face.
Then, I chuckle.
There’s no way in hell Allegra doesn’t want me.
But she’s right, she deserves more than this. More than what I’m giving her.
More than what I’m capable of…
Can I ever give more? Can I ever be enough?
I stare at Allegra’s closed bedroom door and wonder things I’ve never given myself permission to think before.
Allegra and me, as a real couple. Her body in my bed every night, her kiss on my lips every morning. Making her tea and watching movies. Her listening to my songs first, weighing in on the lyrics. Us together, always having each other’s backs.
Heat sweeps through my limbs but it’s more than base desire. It’s longing. The sensation spreads, rolling and growing, yearning. The things I feel for her…can it be love? Can it be that pure and true? That real?
Could she feel that — that tenderness and longing and respect — for me?
I snap my mouth closed and press my lips together. Could I be the man she deserves? The man to give her what she wants? To truly love her?
“Yo!” Mav moves into the hallway. He gives me a strange look as he moves closer, then shakes his head.
I snap out of my trance. Out of the dumb thoughts that will never materialize.
No. I’m not the guy. Allegra isn’t for me.
End of story.
“We’re heading to the studio,” Mav says, clipping my shoulder with his. “Then, the pub. Gotta go over some tour dates and plans for Europe!” He yells the last word and I know he’s excited.
His enthusiasm is contagious, and I chuckle. “Sounds good, Mav. Let me change real quick.”
“Do you, Reign,” he agrees, knocking softly on his bedroom door.
When Allegra gives the all-clear, Mav slips inside. I hear their voices mingle, their laughter ring out.
No. There’s no shot with Allegra Rousell.
Not when Europe beckons. Women in different countries. Women speaking different languages. Sold-out shows in capital cities. Afterparties. Free-flowing alcohol and passed-around pills.
I’d be a fool to drag her into that underworld. I’ve been a fool to keep this game going with her for so damn long.
Except, I don’t know how to stop it. I can’t lose. Or worse, surrender.
But I sure as hell can’t win either.
The ten days leading up to our European tour pass both slowly and quickly. Little bursts of energy, of constant movement and planning and packing, followed by lulls of restlessness.
I keep an eye on Allegra, watching without speaking. Posturing without proving anything. Searching but never seeking outright.
It’s fucking torture. A slow burn, a desperate build. I clock her secret glances. Note her wary sidesteps. Despise the fall of her lips when I enter the room.
And yet, it’s obvious I affect her. Probably live rent free in her mind. The same way she exists in mine, a constant I can’t shut out.
With each passing day, we grow more brazen.
Our stand-off softens. I skim my fingertips along the small of her back when she’s at the kitchen sink, rinsing her coffee mug.
She swipes her tongue across her bottom lip when I bound down the stairs, shirtless, my hair still damp from the shower.
My knuckle catches the backside of her arm when she passes me in the hallway.
Strands of her hair find purchase on my T-shirts in the laundry.
She’s everywhere and nowhere. All-consuming and nothing.
Then, one night, she goes out with the BHH girls. I don’t follow along like I mentally plan to. Instead, I spend the night buried in emails, disregarding another message from my so-called “father,” and handling the fall-out of shifting show dates.
Mav’s out, probably having a threesome. Levi’s been fucked off his face since noon and is either passed out or still partying with Flip. The house is quiet. Peaceful and tranquil and the opposite of the type of homes I knew growing up.
I hook my heels on the bottom rung of the barstool, my notebooks and laptop spread over the butcher block island. It’s nice, to work uninterrupted in a home I helped purchase. A headquarters for the band.
A legacy for the future.
I may have been born to a mother who loved heroin more than me and a father who didn’t want me to begin with, but I figured it out. I may never deserve a woman like Allegra in my bed, in my life, but I’ll be okay.
In the quiet of the kitchen, I accept that my present is better than my past. That my future, with the whole continent of Europe beckoning, brighter still. The summer has been long and hot, with highs and lows, and a breathtaking surprise.
Allegra Rousell was a beautiful distraction. But now, September is fast approaching and she’s going to move down a new path. I don’t know what her plans are, but I doubt she’ll stay in Boston. Maybe she’ll head back to UCLA. Or move to New York.
She’s intelligent, compassionate, and good. She’ll figure it out.
I sigh, letting the tension in my neck melt into my shoulders. In another week, I’ll be gone and the temptress that’s invaded my waking moments as well as my dreams, a memory. Albeit a good one.
I chuckle to myself, and crack open the notebook with the lyrics I can’t get just right.
You vanished like daybreak,
Lost stars and forgotten night.
You haunt me like a shadow,
Clingy and relentless.
You haunt me like her.
Her. I frown at the word and a strange sensation, heat and ice and unease, sweeps through my veins. I roll my lips together to hold back a groan. Brushing my thumb along the words, I realize the significance behind them.
Lost stars and forgotten night.
You haunt me like her.
Her.