Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Keannen
I CAN ONLY RUN for so long.
I’ve been skipping out the second shows end. The others have definitely noticed, and Jacob is particularly unhappy about it. I don’t see what the problem is. It’s not like they’re not used to my shitty attitude.
“Because you’re part of the band,” Jacob said when he confronted me about it on the bus. “You’re part of the family .”
I scoff at the memory, just as I scoffed when Jacob first lobbed that cheesy line at me. I haven’t had anything resembling a family since I was about fifteen, and this group of musical misfits isn’t going to change that, no matter how many times Jacob tries to use his big, soft leading man eyes on me .
“I’m not one of your future groupies,” I grumbled.
Jacob rolled his eyes. “Good because you’re not my type.”
“Yeah, then what is your type? Still trying to get in the security guard’s pants?”
That shut him up. His cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink and he stomped off, muttering to himself.
Regardless, here I am, sitting in the greenroom after our set instead of running away as I’d like to. I slouch on one of the beat up, smelly couches you can always find in greenrooms. It’s like every time someone had to set up a greenroom, they drove around town looking for the grossest curbside freebie they could find. It’s fine, though. I’m equally gross after playing a whole set.
I scroll through my phone, ignoring my bandmates as they filter in and out of the room. Some of them are watching The Ten Hours. The only person with me right now is, thankfully, Levi, who is about as inclined to talk to me as I am to him.
We can both hear that The Ten Hours’ set is going great. I try not to, but I started grinding my teeth without noticing, which makes it pretty hard for me to lie even to myself.
Tim has been playing like shit since that day in Baltimore. Unlike during the first half of the tour, I do feel a little bad this time. I wanted to mess with him, but not like this. I never intended for feelings to get involved. This has gotten way too messy and dramatic for my taste. Hence my desire to slink off every night after we play. I’m not interested in the joint outings with The Ten Hours after most shows. Instead, I go to the hotel room or the bus, put on headphones, and watch dumb videos until I fall asleep.
Seems I won’t be so lucky tonight.
“He’s still here,” Jacob declares far too jovially when he and the rest of the band enter the greenroom.
I glare at him, but his toothy smile doesn’t go down in wattage. It’s as blinding as ever.
“We’re all going out tonight,” Jacob says. “It feels like everyone has been off, but we found our stride again tonight.”
“No,” I say flatly.
“Oh, come on, you can’t say no.”
“I can and I did. No.”
“Everyone is going. You’re really going to sulk by yourself?”
“Yes.”
Jacob huffs like this is the most troubling conundrum of his life. Why does he care so much if I skip out on drinks at the closest crappy bar?
Beyond the greenroom, the music is rising as The Ten Hours thunder through their finale. I’ve heard it enough times now that I know I have mere seconds before they finish their set. That does not leave me a lot of time for escape, and the absolute last thing I want to do tonight is deal with my ex-boyfriend’s feelings.
“Please, Keannen,” Jacob says. “This is really getting depressing.”
“I don’t care if it’s depressing. Haven’t you ever learned that ‘no’ means ‘no?’”
I jerk to my feet before he can complain, but it doesn’t get me very far. Shawn and Dan are behind him like that bodyguard he’s so worked up over (though much smaller versions. That dude is seriously huge).
I sigh at all three of them. “Guys, let me through. This is stupid.”
“What’s stupid is that you barely even seem like you want to be part of this band anymore,” Jacob says.
“What, I can only seem like part of the band if I drink with you?” I say. “I’m doing my job. I played perfectly tonight. I don’t owe you shit beyond that.”
“That’s what the contract says, but that’s not reality,” Jacob says. “In reality, we’re stuck together so much we’re like brothers. You can’t blow off family.”
“Did it when I was a teenager. Don’t see why I can’t do it now, too.”
I brush past him before he can put up any further complaints, making sure to check him with my shoulder as I do. Shawn and Dan don’t make a fuss, stepping out of my way the moment I make it clear I’m not kidding about leaving.
“Keannen, please,” Jacob calls after me .
But I’m done. I did my part tonight. I showed up, I played well, and then I hung around in the greenroom until the end of the show. The music is over, the cheers of the crowd rushing in to replace the beat of drums and strumming of guitars.
I pound my way down the hallway that will lead me outside to freedom. I can get right back on the bus and curl up in a bunk while everyone else goes out tonight. In fact, there’s absolutely nothing I want more than that. Nothing at all.
Before I can escape, a hand grabs me by the bicep. At first I think it’s Jacob, but when I go to shrug it off, it’s too strong, too firm. Someone yanks me back, shoving me against the wall.
Tim glares at me from way too close.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask, but my voice doesn’t have the bite I wish it did. He’s about the last person I expected to find grabbing me, and he’s wearing a look I’ve never witnessed before. His face is … hard. Determined. Angry, even.
I try again to shake him loose, but Tim holds firm. We’re near the end of the hall, far enough down it that the bad lighting throws us into shadow. If someone came down this way, they’d see us, but there’s nothing here but the worst bathrooms in the whole venue and the exit door, so there isn’t much reason for anyone to find us.
Not so long ago, this would have been the exact sort of situation I wanted to push Tim into. Tonight, I’m the one who’s trapped, the one surprised and left on the back foot. I may be taller than him, but he’s ensuring I know very well that he outweighs me.
“What do you want?” I snarl.
It doesn’t quite have the effect I’m reaching for.
“I know what I want,” Tim says. It sounds strange, like he’s talking to himself even as his eyes bore into mine. “Finally, I actually know what I want, and I’m not letting you get in my way.”
“Well, congratulations. Only took you twenty-five years.”
“Yeah, it did. I had some stuff to deal with.”
“I’m so glad your therapy sessions worked out, but I don’t really care about your journey of self-acceptance or whatever this is.”
I try to jerk my arm free, but he tightens his grasp, his strength sending an unwelcome thrill through my chest like an electric shock.
“No,” he says. “You aren’t going to run away this time.”
“Please don’t tell me this is some teary confession. I thought we already did this part. It didn’t go well, remember?”
“I remember,” he says, his voice coming out like it scratched over sand paper along the way. “I’m not here for that.”
“Then I’m afraid we’re right back at the beginning, Freckles: What the hell do you want?”
His eyes flicker with uncertainty, but a second later I’m sure I must have been seeing things because Tim smashes his mouth against mine, still gripping my arm, holding me in place so I can’t slip away. His lips pin me to the wall at my back, our positions so spectacularly reversed that I don’t even think to close my eyes as the kiss barrels into me.
He draws away after only a moment, gasping, but not letting go.
Shit, that was one hell of a kiss. I’m almost grateful for the hand on my arm. Otherwise I might stumble like a drunk from that.
I shake myself, trying to seem less off-balance than I am. Unfortunately, my body knows that mouth, that heat. It knows desire when it arrives on a silver platter. Usually, this would be the part where I drag him away to have some fun, but usually, “him” would be anyone but Tim. This is way more complicated than I like dealing with, way too tangled and confusing and bound up in things I don’t want to think about. Is he actually acting on desire or is this some weird lashing out thing?
“I told you,” I say, breathier than I’d like, “I can’t be your damn boyfriend. I don’t feel that way about you.”
“I’m not asking you to be my boyfriend.”
I don’t believe that. Not for a second. Tim is too soft inside, like a bonbon with a liquid center. One bite and you crack him right open, and I’ve had more than a bite .
“I can’t be anything good for you,” I say.
“Then don’t,” he says. “Be something bad for me.”
He goes to kiss me again, but this time I get my hands on his chest and stop him. “You’re being an idiot. You know I’ll only hurt you.”
“How about you let me decide how much I’m willing to get hurt, huh?”
He pushes again, and this time I let him. He scorches my mouth with another kiss, sucking on my bottom lip. When he tilts his head, I follow, letting him deepen the kiss into something almost too lascivious for the hallway. If someone were to walk up on us, they’d see a lot more than a sweet little peck on the mouth, but Christ, I can’t bring myself to stop it. I find myself clinging to Tim’s shirt instead, pulling him harder against me. He lets go of my arm at last, but there’s no real risk I’m running at this point. He wants to break himself against me? Fine. I can be his experiment, his mistake. That’s what I was for him in high school, after all, so why shouldn’t we pick right back up where we (disastrously) left off?
I’m going straight to hell for this, aren’t I?
Tim licks into my mouth, and I shiver, my defenses crumbling before his unleashed hunger. He’s always followed my lead in this, letting me push him around and take what I want, but tonight his hands paw at my waist, searching for the hem of my shirt so he can get under it. The second he reaches bare skin, we both shudder, heat billowing between us. He doesn’t stop there. His hands roam greedily, feeling around me, rising upward, threatening the waist of my pants.
Somehow, I manage to push him away. Not far, just far enough that I can read the heat in his eyes and see the way his lips blush from that bruising, furious kiss. His hands linger on my body, holding my waist, and mine stay fisted in his shirt. I don’t know if I’m holding him close or holding myself steady.
“Fuck, Virgin, I’m going to ruin you,” I rasp.
Tim shivers in my hold, but he doesn’t back down.
“Then ruin me.”