Chapter 38
“ W e need to go. Now.” I tug on Harmony’s arm.
“No.” She refuses and returns her attention to the bouncer. “Nick is going to let us backstage.” She pouts. “Aren’t you, Nick?”
“I don’t want to go backstage.” I won’t survive it. Just one glance at Bo Jackson in all his rock star glory, and I’m right back where I was at fourteen, crushing on a boy who I realized too late didn’t return my feelings. Watching him perform tonight and knowing he saw me; my heart is still fluttering. I’m shaken like a fallen bird with a broken wing lying on the bottom of its cage.
“Ladies.” The lead singer, Carson “Riot” Reeves, age twenty, according to his bio, saunters down the empty stage stairs. Tucking his black hair behind his ears, he gives Harmony and me a once-over, then aims his glacier-blue eyes at the bouncer who’s blocking our passage. “Let them in, Nick.”
“That’s okay, we were just leaving.” I find my voice and tug my sister’s arm again. “C’mon, Harm.”
“I want to lick you,” she slurs her words as she gazes up at Carson. “All over.”
Carson grins slowly. “That can certainly be arranged.” He taps the bouncer. “Step aside, my good man, and let these sexy ladies into the after-party.”
“Thanks.” Harmony offers Carson her hand. “I’m Harmony. This is Peace. We’re twins.” She places both her hands on the muscular forearm of the lead singer.
“Nice to meet you.” Carson doesn’t even look at me as he takes off with Harmony. Up the stairs he goes with her, and I reluctantly follow. We run into chaos behind the curtain. Backstage is a wide-open area, but it’s jam-packed with nearly a hundred people. Carson weaves around clusters of crew and fans with my sister. I do my best to trail them while trying to recall his bio. During the summer, I’m supposed to be editing all the band members’ online profiles, which will likely be awkward after this.
“Harmony had a few too many drinks,” I explain, doing damage control. As a space opens up, I step beside him.
“Behold the inner sanctum.” Carson gestures when we enter a large room mostly occupied by groupies, who have stripped down to their underwear.
“Harm, please.” My throat goes dry, and I try not to gawk. “I don’t want to run into him. You know I don’t.” I don’t want to see him with a groupie especially. My heart won’t be able to withstand it. “Please,” I beg.
“Don’t want to run into who?”
At the sound of his voice that’s much deeper than I remember, I turn. My hand over my rapidly beating heart, I find Bo standing right behind me. He’s gorgeous and wearing a cutoff Rolling Stones T-shirt, worn jeans, and boots. Robert “Bo” Jackson, Shooting Star’s lead guitarist, is six-foot-one, with stacked muscle, and he towers over me. Taking him all in, my belly quivers. Up close, he’s more devastating to my senses than he was beneath the spotlights.
He’s just a friend. A former friend. Soon to be the focus of your summer internship . Get it together, Peace,
“Hello, PJ.” Bo rakes his gray-green gaze over me. Surprisingly, his striking eyes linger in places they never did before. Places that swell and tingle, much to my mortification.
“Don’t call me that.” I cross my arms over my chest to hide the fact that my nipples are diamond hard and throbbing in response to him.
“Right.” He scowls, the downward pull of his chiseled lips enhancing the sharpness of his jaw. “I remember the nickname being one of the things that set you off. Unfortunately, it doesn’t seem like you’ve outgrown your bitchiness.” Aloof and confident, he tucks his thumbs into the front pocket of his jeans, the movement making his biceps bulge.
“My bitchiness?” I huff, planting my hands on my hips. Sadly, I’m a mess of nerves and just as fascinated by him as I ever was. “You were the one who gave me the brush-off. Or don’t you remember?”
“I remember a lot of things.” His eyes flash with irritation. Why should he be irritated? I gave him the out he wanted back then. It doesn’t make sense.
“Coming here was Harmony’s idea not mine.” I need him to know I’m no longer that pathetic little girl chasing after him. “I’ll gladly leave and save you the trouble of putting up with me.” I scan my surroundings, but I can’t find what I’m looking for. “If you just point me to an exit. I’ll call a ride?—”
“Hey, kids.” Looking amused, Carson cuts me off mid-rant. “No need to get all hot and bothered. The night is young. We can talk about who will be riding whom later.”
“I’m not,” I deny and point at Bo. “He’s not.”
“I can be or do anything you want, baby.” Bo gives me a flirty, heavy-lidded glance.
“Don’t pretend to be into me.” My heart is racing in response. I’m out of my depth with him. Even though I know the flirting isn’t real, it affects me. “C’mon, Harm.” I rip my gaze away from Bo and grab her arm.
“But I don’t want to go,” she whines and flutters her lashes at Carson.
“We. Are. Going. Now.” I turn with her arm in my grip.
“Running away, huh?” Bo’s deep chuckle of amusement makes me bristle and my belly swoops.
“It was a mistake to come.” I turn to face him and attempt to regain control of the situation. “A mistake to ever believe you when you made me a promise you never intended to keep.”
“You cut me off, princess.” Bo’s gaze turns wintery and narrows to a point. “You broke your promise. It wasn’t me.”
“Believe what you want to believe.” I lick my suddenly dry lips. Why does he have to be so handsome? So unaffected? So chillingly smug?
“Facts, baby.” His expression flickers. For a moment, I get an enticing glimpse of the boy who used to share his deepest thoughts with me. “It’s impossible to be there for someone who won’t return your phone calls.”
“I didn’t call you back because it was over.” I blink back angry tears, remembering how difficult it was to hit the decline button those first couple of months before he stopped calling. “You wanted it over not me.”
“You’re wrong.” He removes the distance between us. He comes too close. He’s too tall, too masculine, too everything. My breath catches as his invigorating citrusy and warm woodsy scent washes over me. Swaying internally from his words and his proximity, I brace as he reaches for me, then I burn as his strong hands fall on my slender shoulders. One touch is all it takes to flip my world upside down. “Fuck, your skin is soft,” he murmurs, caressing and studying me intently.
“You shouldn’t touch me,” I whisper roughly, my body humming in response to the circles he traces into my skin. No one has ever mattered so much or made me feel the way he does.
“You obviously wanted me out of the picture.” He doesn’t acknowledge my warning, continuing to wreak havoc on me with his touch and his insistence on delving into the past. Tilting his handsome head, a swath of his thick brown hair slides across his creased brow. “What I want to know is why?”
“I’m not rehashing all of this. It’s ancient history.” I press my lips into a flat line, refusing to answer him. I try not to even breathe. He smells too good. It makes me lightheaded.
“It doesn’t feel like ancient history to me.” His eyes darken. The green and the gray turn stormy. “Not with you here.”
I just shake my head. It doesn’t feel ancient to me either. Not with my heart practically beating out of my chest. In my periphery, I notice Harmony stepping away. Losing her, I’m alone with Bo. The intensity in his gaze holds me captive. A shudder rolls through me as he bends, bringing his mouth within inches of my own.
“Don’t come any closer,” I plead with sudden tears in my eyes.
“Why not?” His warm and minty breath washes over me. “What are you afraid of?” He arches a brow.
“I’m not afraid of anything,” I lie, locking my arms at my sides to keep from grabbing ahold of him. My foolish heart clamors behind my ribs. See me. It begs. Understand me. Make me feel safe and secure again. It’s pathetic how desperately I yearn for him and the friendship that he so readily tossed aside.
“C’mon,” he cajoles. “Don’t be like that.”
“Stop it,” I demand, clenching my fingers into fists as a groupie wearing a leather bra and see-through lace pants calls him. “You can’t sweet-talk me into doing whatever you want. I won’t swoon at your exalted feet like your…fans do.”
“Exalted, huh?” He ignores the groupie and gives me a crooked grin.
He doesn’t get it; how susceptible I remain to him. I don’t want him to get it. Turning to my sister, I say, “Let’s go, Harm.”
“All right,” Harmony agrees, giving me a concerned look. Apparently, she finally realizes how close I am to losing it. She lifts her hand in the air and wiggles her fingers at the lead singer. “Bye, Carson.”
“Car,” he corrects her. As she takes my hand, and we walk away, I flashback to my phone conversation with Carson when he asked me to use the shortened version of his name.
“No goodbye for me, huh?” Bo asks. His sarcasm slamming into me, I stop and glance back at him. I pretend I’m not using the moment to catalog every gorgeous feature.
“So this is it,” Bo says in response to whatever he sees in my expression, sounding angry and looking hurt. “You’re just gonna ghost me and forget everything we shared. Just like before.”
“Yes.” I nod tightly. A clean break was and is the only way. I can’t let him inside again knowing the devastation he can wreck. No matter how much I wish things had turned out differently, they never would have, not with Bo viewing me like everyone else does. In the end, that was what hurt the most.
“You’re not stupid.” His expression hardens. “But sometimes you sure as shit act like you are.”
I flinch at the insult, and it takes me a moment to recover, but I bounce back. After all, I’ve had years of practice pretending that words don’t have any power over me. “Right. Good to know your true low opinion of me. Goodbye, Bo,” I tell him coolly. I’m not as good of an actress as Harmony, but I do all right pretending that I don’t need anyone but me.
“Peace,” Bo calls. “You’re wrong.” He takes a step toward me. “Wait.”
“No.” This time, I turn away and don’t look back. I keep walking. But I feel the weight of Bo’s stare. It follows me as I force one foot in front of the other. Shoulders square, I march determinedly toward the exit. I’m able to maintain my composure until I get outside. Once the heavy metal door clangs closed behind me, I drop the act.
“Harm,” I cry and throw myself at her.
“Oh, Peace.” She takes me in her arms. “That was awkward. I’m sorry.”
“So am I.” I sag into her. I’m not strong. I need my sister and I’m so grateful that she’s here to hold me like she was the last time Bo Jackson broke my heart.