11. Deranged Rockstar
11
DERANGED ROCKSTAR
FELIX
ME! By Taylor Swift and Brendon Urie
I jog across the lot toward my trailer as I listen on my phone to a rough recording of a new song I’ve been working on. When I get to the door, I hear a muffled thumping coming from inside that disrupts the tempo of the hook I was immersed in, forcing me to remove my earbud.
What the hell is Maggie doing in there?
I pull the door open and peek through to catch a glimpse of Maggie dancing. The black Mogo t-shirt slips off one shoulder, exposing the delicate strap of her purple lace bra, a sight that has been provoking my thoughts since I discovered it in the bathroom the other morning.
Not wanting to come off as a creeper, I push the door open a little further, letting her know I can see her—and take in more of the show. I lean against the doorframe with my arms crossed over my chest, rubbing my jaw as I admire her. But this is a double-edged sword if I’ve ever known one; watching Maggie sway to whatever music is pulsing in her earbuds is a precious memory to hang over her head. Yet, the way her cute hips move in those tiny black shorts is giving me one hell of a hard on.
She’s so engrossed in the music that she hasn’t noticed me yet, and I decide to strut into the room, song writing completely forgotten, as I approach her. I catch snippets of her singing along, and it sure as fuck isn’t rock, or metalcore—nothing like the stuff she claims to love. Oh no, this is definitely a pop song.
Her back has been to me the entire time, and the sight of her tight little ass is teasing the fuck out of me. I tell myself I can’t let her endure this mortifying moment any longer, but my dick is begging me to end this torture. So, I reach out, grabbing Maggie’s hips and sharply spinning her around to face me, attempting to dance along with her.
I only get a few moves out of her before I’m rewarded with a blood-curdling shriek punctuated by a few frantic slaps to my chest as she stumbles backward. I quickly reach out to catch her, but in the process, I find myself stumbling too. I plant a foot down for balance, supporting her weight with my knee.
Her blue eyes widen in shock, shimmering like denim under the light as she processes. I pull her back up, our eyes locking, and we’re mere inches apart. One small shift and our lips could touch. And God, what would happen then?
“Felix, what the fuck are you doing here?!”
“For one, this is my bus, and two, someone has to save you from further mortification,” I fire back, earning me another playful slap across my torso.
“Excuse me. I didn’t know I was auditioning to be one of your backup dancers,” she quips, trying to twist away from me, but I manage to snatch one of her earbuds, pulling it just out of reach.
“Hey!” she protests, and a smile spreads across my face as I hold it above her head.
“Let’s see what music inspired this little dance routine.” I slide it into my ear before she can bat it away.
Just as I suspected, a lively pop rhythm fills my head, and my eyes dart down to her. I can’t resist smirking as she plants her hands defiantly on her hips. If looks could kill, I’d be dead right now.
“Don’t even…” she warns, extending a finger that I brush off with a grin.
“Pop music?” I tease.
“Hey, our mom used to sing her heart out to this song in the car,” Maggie retorts.
“Besides, you can’t really dance it out to indie music,” I hear someone pipe through the earbud.
“What is happening right now?” I glance around the room, landing on Maggie’s phone where her sister Joey is waving enthusiastically.
“Say hi to Joey,” Maggie instructs.
“Good God, it’s your clone. Are you as twisted as your sister?” I tease, watching as Joey raises an eyebrow, openly giggling.
“I see you’ve gotten to know Maggie pretty well,” Joey adds, sending me a knowing look.
“Joey’s the nice one, so I guess you lucked out,” Maggie chimes in.
“Someone needs to teach your sister how to dance,” I retort, a playful smile tugging at my lips.
“And I suppose you’re the one to do it?” Maggie fires back.
As the male part of the duet begins, I can’t help but start singing because truth be told, I love this song if only for just that. Maggie stares at me, slack-mouthed for a moment, then bursts out laughing when I pull her in for another turn. She resists at first, but soon her body unwinds, and she moves with me.
“Oh my God, you’re such a dork,” she says between giggles, and I can’t help but enjoy her laughter. “If only your fans could see you now.”
“I’ll just let you two do your thing,” Joey interrupts.
“Do not leave me with this deranged…”—Joey hangs up—“rockstar,” she finishes.
“Quit wiggling, straighten your back, and let me lead,” I bark orders playfully, wrapping my arms around her as we navigate the cramped living space.
“When you actually listen to direction, you’re not half bad.”
“Only so we can get this madness over with soon.” There’s a glint in her eyes that hints she secretly enjoys this.
Seizing the moment, I dip her low, her surprised squeak morphing into a delighted laugh. It’s a sound I don’t hear often from her, and I relish the warmth it brings. I pull her back up, not ready to let go just yet.
“Where did you learn to dance?” she asks, breathless, her cheeks flushed.
“My mom,” I shrug. “Kind of.”
Realization dawns on her, and her eyes widen. “Ohhhh… that’s right, your mom is famous too. She’s a dancer. She was in your dad’s music video!” She pokes me playfully in the chest.
“She was, and don’t even think about bringing it up on your phone.”
Maggie giggles, “But I’ve never seen it all the way through. It’s for the song, ‘See Her,’ right?”
“Yes,” I answer with an exasperated sigh, twirling her away from her phone before pulling her so her back is against me. “My mom was the inspiration for the song, which catapulted my dad to fame. She was the dancer in the video at his insistence, and shortly after, he fell to his knees and begged her to marry him,” I declare with a touch of theatrical flair as I turn her to face me again.
“That’s romantic as fuck,” she blinks, her wide eyes getting that love drunk look.
“That would be the popular opinion,” I shrug.
“What, you don’t think so?” She tilts her head, her ponytail sweeping across that purple bra strap because heaven forbid that should lose my attention.
“No, I do,” I reply as she slips out of my grasp. “I just don’t think that’s how it’s going to happen for me.”
“You mean falling in love?”
“No, making it in the music industry,” I clarify, leaning against the counter, crossing my arms as I meet her gaze. “It was a complete fluke how my dad’s muse landed right in his lap, and the music world lapped it up. I’m not betting on lightning striking twice in that regard.”
“It doesn’t have to happen that way,” she insists. “It’s a misconception that just because your parents are successful, you automatically will be too. You have to work extra hard to prove yourself.”
“Exactly,” I sigh, realizing she understands the pressure of expectations.
“Whoa, did you just agree with me? Did you hurt yourself? Do you need to lie down? Now give me back my earbud.” She reaches for me, but I pull out of her grasp.
“No, I want to hear what other pop music you listen to,” I chuckle.
“You had your fun, now give it back.” She reaches for me, but I grab her by the waist, hitting a ticklish spot.
She giggles and kicks. “You’re gonna make me pee my pants you psycho!”
There’s a rough bang on the door that could be mistaken for a hurricane, and we both jolt out of each other’s grasp.
I whip open the door to see Dusty. He takes up the doorframe. “Maggie, great news. Your new bus just rolled up.”
I feel my stomach drop, but huff out an exaggerated sigh of relief. “Thank God, I get my bathroom back,” I exclaim.