Epilogue
NATE
One Month Later
Danger and Lunar are pissing me off.
They’re fully into wedding planning mode, and I guess I always thought she’d see the light.
Not necessarily that she would leave Danger for me—although that would be great—but Danger, even though he’s a cool guy, has never been the type to settle down.
Sure, he’s done this once before with that fucking stupid British bird, Ella.
She pussy-whipped him well and good, but even then, he was never one hundred percent faithful to her.
I guess what I’m saying is I really like Lunar. I don’t want to see her getting hurt.
And Danger? Well, I don’t trust him not to do that to her.
But if they do follow through and get married, I suppose I want to find a woman just like Lunar—sassy, yet classy, someone with brains and beauty.
Lunar is the whole package.
I really need to get over her!
Then, if I don’t have Danger and Lunar making googly eyes at each other, it’s fucking Ryan and Tillie now that they’re back to being lovey-dovey again.
I preferred it when Ryan was trying to pull a practical joke on Tillie at every chance.
At least that was entertaining. Now having two loved-up couples in the office all the damn time, it’s a fucking joke.
Not to mention living with Matt and having him bring home a new woman every other day while I pine over a woman I can’t have.
Well fuck.
I’m one sad sack of sorry shit.
Everyone else is happy, and I need to get my life in order.
I know I’m not the best guy to hang around with—I’m annoying, I say fucked-up shit, and act like I have a chip on my shoulder.
Well, fuck, I have good reason!
I’m always coming second fiddle to the better twin.
Being born second means I’m always the second best…
At everything.
I shouldn’t be jealous of Matt because he is better at everything, but fuck, sometimes I’d just like to be number one.
Just once, you know? Get the girl. Get better grades in school.
Be the first to be picked on the team. I’m always after Matt.
And if it isn’t Matt, it’ll be someone else.
I can’t seem to ever get ahead. I’m just unlucky in everything.
Sure, I’m in one of the hottest bands in the world at the moment, but I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for Matt.
He introduced me to music in school when I was struggling.
He met Danger and led us in forming Recoil.
I’m just the tag-along. The guy everyone talks to, but no one actually cares if he’s around or not.
I don’t mean to be whiny, I don’t mean to act like a bitch, but I just can’t help it.
Never being good enough gets to a man. And after a while, it makes you feel… worthless, useless. Like you’re a waste of space, and when people confirm it for you constantly, you act out without thinking.
Like, take, for instance, right now, I’m sitting in the boardroom by myself at the time we were all supposed to be here, but no one else is.
Everyone’s late, even Oliver, which is weird.
But because I’m pissed off at being the only one on time, when everyone comes in, I’m going to say some snotty remark about everyone being late, and everyone will be annoyed with me.
I don’t have to say anything, but I can’t help myself, and I don’t know why. I guess that’s why everyone hates me.
I sit back in my chair, growing more and more annoyed that everyone is over half an hour late.
They could have at least messaged or something.
It’s kinda weird for them ALL to be late, I think, as I mess around with my cell.
Voices carry down the hall, and I sit up taller, hearing everyone finally making their way to the boardroom for this stupid meeting.
“It’s about damn time,” I murmur to myself under my breath.
Danger and Lunar walk through the door with giant grins on their faces. They’re always smiling, but these smiles are unusually cheerful. I furrow my brows as I stiffen my spine and take in the happy chatter continuing behind them.
“We’re so happy you could make it on an earlier flight,” Tillie’s voice echoes in from the hall.
She walks in with Ryan and Oliver, all looking back like someone is with them. I shake my head slightly, wondering who they’re talking about.
“Oh… so am I. Taking a night flight would have done horrendous things to my complexion,” a husky, sensual female voice declares, which immediately stirs something deep inside me. The voice is like smooth honey, and it awakens every molecule of my being.
I’m instantly more awake as Matt walks through the door smiling widely, and behind him, flounces a slender, olive-skinned goddess.
Her chestnut, long, wavy hair flows lustrously down over her shoulders, framing her oval face perfectly.
Her supple lips call out to me as she stands in the doorway with her hip angled to the right.
My eyes widen as I imagine a vibrant white aura glowing around her like the angel she portrays.
She is pure magnificence, and my cock hardens under the table from staring at her tiny frame.
I know her instantly.
I’ve seen all her movies.
It’s Zaria Shafir.
The thirty-six-year-old actress who has a starring role in our music video.
The actress who is around ten years older than me, but in person, she doesn’t look a day over twenty-three.
“Oh shit… Nate, how long have you been waiting?” Oliver asks, breaking my gaze reluctantly away from Zaria. She walks in, completely ignoring me. She smiles at Matt as he ushers her to a seat at the table.
I exhale, then swallow hard, trying to gain some composure. “Like half an hour. I’ve been here since the time the meeting was supposed to start.”
“Oh, sorry! Got the call that Zaria was flying in early, so I called Danger and told him to meet me at the airport. He told Ryan, who was with Matt at the time, and I guess we just kinda forgot to call you. Sorry, Nate,” Oliver says.
Lunar winces and frowns.
I huff and shake my head slightly.
See what I mean?
“Yeah, well, we’re all here now so—”
“What? No bitchy comment?” Danger quips.
I’m so over this shit.
I can’t help but feel completely deflated. “I really can’t be bothered,” I say under my breath while sitting back in my chair, glancing over at Zaria, who’s smiling at Matt.
Figures.
“So Zaria is here to discuss how things are going to work with the production of the music video. Obviously, in the clip, she’s going to be Danger’s love interest, considering he’s the lead singer. I know this is going to be weird, Lunar, but I assure you they will be acting,” Oliver says.
Lunar nods with a smile as Zaria looks at her cell, like she isn’t even paying attention.
“Will I be able to be there during filming?” Lunar asks.
“I guess that’s up to Danger and Zaria,” Oliver replies.
“I’m fine with it if you are, Zaria?” Danger queries.
Zaria looks up from her cell and opens her eyes wide. “Oh… sorry… what? Um, can I get a drink, please? I’m parched. Thanks.” She looks back down at her cell without blinking an eye.
I really like that Zaria might be a handful for these guys, so I sit back in my chair and fold my arms over my chest.
Ha! And they thought I was a bitch?
Maybe Zaria will up the ante in the bitch stakes.
Danger glances at Lunar and clears his throat. “Um… I was asking Zaria if it would be okay if Lunar were there while we filmed the music video.”
She waves a dismissive hand through the air, her eyes flicking past Danger like she’s already lost interest in whatever he’s saying.
“Yes, yes, whatever,” she drawls, the words sugar-sweet but dipped in impatience.
“Now, about that drink… make it sparkling water, cold but not freezing, around fifty degrees, with a squeeze of fresh lemon. Three ice cubes, exactly three, and in a glass, not plastic. I can taste the difference.” She punctuates the demand with a slow hair flip, the kind that says she’s been rehearsing for a reality show her entire life, then tilts her head with a dazzling smile that could blind the sun.
“You got all that, sweetheart?” she adds, her eyes now focused on Tillie, her tone syrupy-smooth but laced with the unmistakable sting of superiority.
Tillie stares blankly, and I smirk as she stands from the table and then walks out of the room. I’m assuming to get Zaria her incredibly specific drink.
Zaria looks up, her eyes scanning the room like she’s bored. She casually looks at me and continues scanning, then suddenly looks back at me. She brings her pointer finger to her chin and smirks with amusement. “Twins, hey? You two look practically identical. How can I tell you apart?”
“I have a bigger cock,” Matt replies.
I roll my eyes as she scoffs out a laugh.
“Hm… no, really, how do I tell you apart?”
This is probably my only opportunity to talk to her, so I take it. “I have a sleeve of tattoos. Matt only has a few.”
She raises an eyebrow and purses her lips. “So you’re the bad boy, brother, then?”
My lips turn up on one side. “I’m the more artistic one.”
She smiles, and it’s genuine. “I like art. I’m not much for the smart-mouthed ones.” She glances over at Matt. “They think they’re better than everyone else, and they generally tend to have the smaller cock… in my experience.” She tilts her head to the side.
I burst out laughing while Matt gawks, and the others chuckle.
It’s nice to have someone on my side for a change.
Tillie walks in with Zaria’s glass of sparkling water. Three ice cubes and a squeeze of lemon, in a glass that is definitely not plastic. I smirk as she places it down in front of her. “Here you go, Zaria, just as you asked.”
Zaria tenses while looking at the glass, and her face squeezes into a frown. “It doesn’t have a straw.”
Tillie looks at me and raises an eyebrow. “Okay, um, would you like a straw, Zaria?”
“I need a straw! If you had taken the time to read my list of requirements before I arrived, you would’ve seen that I always, always drink. From. A. Straw,” she says the last few words succinctly. “Urgh, get me a damn straw,” she demands.
Tillie turns quickly and races out of the room. Everyone looks at each other, and Zaria pants harshly through her nose, appearing to try to calm down.
“We’re sorry for the oversight, Zaria. It won’t happen again,” Oliver says.
“See that it doesn’t. Now, can we please order some food or something? Everyone, get me a menu from various places. I like to have a selection.”
Everyone just sits here looking at each other, and the facial expressions they are pulling tell the story.
“Go.” She waves her hands around, and everyone stands. “Except you, artist. You stay.” She points to me, and Matt frowns, following everyone else out of the room.
“Right, don’t just sit there… come here,” she says, patting the seat Matt just vacated.
I furrow my brows, wondering what the fuck world I’ve just stepped into.
Tillie returns as I walk around and sit down next to Zaria. She puts the straw into the glass and places a menu neatly in front of Zaria.
“Thank you, Matilda. Now, please find me another menu,” she orders.
Tillie looks at me and scrunches up her face, but turns and walks out of the room, leaving me with the diva.
She looks at me, slumping into her seat as if finally letting her guard down. With a sigh, she picks up her glass, takes a small sip of water, and smiles as her lips release the pink straw. Her eyes drift down to the pizza menu, then back up to meet mine, and she nods.
I tense up as a cold sweat invades my body.
She puts the glass down on the table and hands me the menu. “What’s your pick? Read me the best thing, in your opinion, from the menu, artist.”
My heart races, and a sweat bead forms on my temple. I feel the color drain from my face as I look down at the piece of paper. It seems so innocent. So bright and colorful, but this shit is why I feel so worthless.
“I, ah… I don’t know this place. Maybe you should choose?” I hand the menu to her.
She furrows her brows, pushing it back to me. “No, I don’t know good pizza. I never eat it. But I know you will because artists always eat pizza. So you pick.”
Swallowing hard, I don’t want to look like a dick in front of her, so I open the menu and focus on the page. My head starts to spin as I look at the words while the letters all swirl together.
“Um… ah… pizza… um—” I swipe my forehead, wiping away the sweat that’s gathered, and take a deep breath.
“Artist?”
I look up to see her looking at me with a kind, soft stare. Her hand reaches out, and she rests it on my arm. Something passes through me, and I see her breathing hitch at the same time as mine.
She half-smiles and takes a deep breath. “Oh my God, you… you can’t read. Can you?”