Chapter Two
BANG.
BANG.
BANG.
The pounding on my door has me bolting upright. I look over to the other side of the bed, and the god from last night is still sound asleep.
Wasn’t he supposed to leave?
My head’s pounding, and queasy doesn’t cover what my stomach feels like. I don’t remember much about last night, but I remember falling asleep to the sound of Colt humming.
Sliding out of bed, I walk past the couch, reach for the vodka bottle, and stub my toe on my way to the door, hopping in pain with an empty bottle of vodka in my hand. Just looking at that bottle makes me want to hurl.
As I sluggishly open my door, I’m greeted by three guys, all muscles and tattoos that scream, have sex with me. But instead, they’re standing there, gawking at me. They look me up and down a few times and then scrunch their noses like they’ve smelled something sour.
Seriously, I don’t look that bad, do I?
Frowning, I rub my eyes as they push past me and into my suite.
“Hey!” I call out.
“Sladenator, wake the fuck up. I know you’ll fuck anything with a tight pussy, but you must have been off your face last night to shack up with this slag,” the blond guy states loudly.
I’m standing right here, buddy!
My mouth drops open.
But I’m stunned into silence.
The tattooed giant jumps onto the bed, and Colt slowly wakes.
Well, heck! I spilled my guts to this man, someone I don’t know from a bar of soap, and worse than that, I slept in the same bed as him, and he’s the kind of guy Daddy warned me about!
Wow, that’s a new low for me!
“What the hell, guys?” Colt retaliates as they crowd around him. One guy, who looks quite similar to him, starts to slap him across the face in a playful manner.
“Fuck off, bro,” he cusses, and they all laugh.
“Uh-hum…” I clear my throat, and they all turn to look directly at me.
Colt’s eyes meet mine, and he smiles brightly. “Hi,” Colt’s smooth voice teases.
I wrap my arms around myself. “Hi,” I purr.
The guys glance at him, then back at me, eyebrows squished together and frowning.
“Seriously, dude, I know you’re desperate, but… what the fuck!” the blond guy questions.
My memory might be foggy, but I know Colt was the perfect gentleman and didn’t try to take advantage of me in any way.
“Shut up, Dingo!” Colt slowly sits up in bed, and the guys all turn their attention back to me.
And I stand there feeling…
… hungover.
Incredibly tired.
Extremely insecure.
And the most intense of emotions—vulnerability.
How did I allow this to happen?
While in front of me, these hot pieces of man candy are gawking at me like I’m intruding and most certainly do not belong in their world.
News flash, lads. You’re in my room!
“Okay, well, thanks for stopping by,” I assert.
They all laugh at me.
Yes, laugh. The audacity.
Colt rises and stretches while the lads slowly walk toward the door, and I nearly combust.
That sense of panic is rising now that he’s leaving.
He walks to me and smiles, that panty-dropping smile. Colt looks so good, better than I remember, and I have to clench my thighs together to stop the ache I feel for him.
What is this man doing to me?
Oh my goodness, Dee, get a hold of yourself!
This is so not how a lady would behave.
“So, I’ll ah… see you tonight, then?” Colt asks.
His bandmates walk out of the room laughing, punching each other, and acting like idiots.
“Tonight?”
“The concert, remember?”
I slightly dip my chin and shyly smile. For some reason, I can’t look him in the eyes.
Today, he’s intimidating, and I am unsure of myself.
I don’t know if that’s because I’m sober and have some brain function or if it’s his ridiculously gorgeous appearance and those bulging biceps covered in ink.
Whatever it is, it’s causing me to go completely weak at the knees.
“Right, um… sure. Why not?”
He takes my hand in his. “I look forward to it.” And with that, he lets go and walks out the door.
I move to close it, but just as it's about to shut, he pushes it open again. “Sorry, I forgot something,” he says, holding his hand for me to shake. I look at him with an awkward smirk and place my hand in his. “It’s nice to meet you. My name is Colter Slade,” he says with a cheeky grin.
Shaking his hand, I reply, “Nice to meet you, too. I’m Deliah Norman.”
The formal introductions are backward, and I laugh, caught up in the silliness of the moment.
He brings my hand up, gently kissing my knuckles, then leaves while a flutter of butterflies swarms around in my stomach.
Colter Slade. And now that I think about it, his name does ring a bell.
It’s time for a tidy-up, so I step into the ensuite. When I glance in the mirror, I gasp at the horrendous reflection staring back at me.
“Holy heavens! I look hideous.”
No wonder Colt’s bandmates laughed and dug each other in the ribs.
My hair is in a ponytail, but it looks more like a bird’s nest. And my face, well, no words can describe the size of the appalling bags under my eyes.
That, plus the red and puffiness, makes me look like I’ve had a severe allergic reaction to something horrifying.
I sigh and wash my face with cool water, knowing it’s too late to do anything now. It’s not like I can book a day spa appointment and have them fix the problem.
So, I contemplate what to do next.
Maybe I should shower and wash away last night’s disaster. So I take off my pajamas, wrap a towel around myself, and return to the ensuite.
Knock. Knock.
Figures there would be someone at the door right now.
Bollocks!
Wrapping my towel firmly around me, I move over to the door and crack it open just a bit, peeking out.
“Hi, I was… wait! Are you wearing a towel?” Colt inquires as I try to cover myself reasonably unsuccessfully with the door.
“Um… maybe,” I reply, watching as a mischievous grin creeps across his face while he looks me up and down. Feeling embarrassed, I push myself further to the side to hide behind the door, and he chuckles.
“Yeah, so anyway… I was wondering if you’d like to come to dinner with the band and the Slayettes tonight before the show?”
I look at him in complete confusion, “What’s… the… S-Slayettes?”
“Yeah… that’s a tough one to define.” He chuckles. “I guess they’re groupies, but Dingo and Johnny’s chicks keep them in line. They follow us around, and we just, well… we let them.” The last few words shoot out quickly as Colt shrugs.
I have nothing to add, so I nod.
He looks me up and down again.
I wish he’d stop doing that.
I don’t know if it makes me uncomfortable or compels me to want to drop my towel and rip his shirt off.
But then, for no apparent reason, the emotion of my world being turned upside down washes over me, and a wave of anguish crashes full speed into my heart. I do my best to show my perfect-good-girl side, as I have been forced to do my whole life.
“No matter what or how you feel, you will never show that on the outside.” My mummy’s words slam into me. “We must always display a stiff upper lip, be stoic, and face adversity with self-restraint.” Just thinking about her words, I know how disappointed she would be in me.
I’m brought back to the moment when Colt says, “Good, I’m glad. Spending time with you will be great without all the tears and ice cream.” He eyes me once more with a smirk, then walks off.
I close the door and smile for the briefest of seconds, then make my way to wash off the stains of my life-changing breakup.
Last night, my world had ended.
But in the light of today, I somehow feel a sense of freedom.
Today, I’m going to relax in my suite and watch movies, letting the worries and emotions of last night remain there.
In doing so, I surprise myself with how I’m feeling—a sense of excitement about the new possibilities and adventures I can have.
Of course, I will have to tell Daddy that his I-Can-Do-No-Wrong Joseph broke it off, but that’s not a conversation I’m willing to have any time soon.
The day goes by quickly, and a glance at the time tells me I’ve been lying around long enough and need to get ready.
For dinner with Colt tonight, I’ll go with simple, easy, and comfortable—jeans and a tank top with a little cardigan.
I pull on my trusty Converse sneakers and walk into the ensuite to do something with my face.
With a sigh, I apply makeup—attempting to cover up the mistakes of my past four years—and finish applying mascara just in time.
A knock at my door alerts me to answer, so I quickly gather up my purse and cell phone. When I open the door, there’s a short woman who, if I had to guess, is maybe five feet. Her hair is ink-black with purple streaks, so short it sticks out everywhere.
She must be a Slayette.
Smiling, I tilt my head when she smirks, looking me up and down.
“Hi,” I greet.
“Hmm… I guess you’ll do,” she answers, then leans in, grabs me by the arm, pulling me out the door. I quickly shut it behind me, and we’re off. I have to almost run to keep up with her, and if I’m being honest, she’s hurting my arm.
“So, um… my name’s Dee. Nice to, um… meet you,” I breathe out as we walk briskly to the elevator.
“I know, c’mon, they’re waiting for us,” she replies while pressing the button repeatedly.
We step in, and I wait awkwardly for her to tell me her name, but she doesn’t volunteer any information. She looks at me and shakes her head with a slight giggle.
Hello, is this girl daft? I’m standing right here!
And why am I even doing this if Colt can’t come and get me himself?
The doors open, and we walk straight to the entrance of the Rutherford Regent, where there’s a black stretch Hummer waiting and paparazzi everywhere.
My eyes open wide as I take in the girls being held back by security.
They start to scream when we walk out, but it quickly dies down when they realize we’re not the famous ones they’re waiting for.
“C’mon, quickly,” the girl shouts as she drags me toward the Hummer.