15. Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Fifteen
Alec
“You look like hell.” Samantha tosses a fresh pack of smokes my way before sitting beside me on the front step of the music studio—my apartment building.
Today, the building is the music studio because we have to practice, and we need to go over the songs we’re going to play when we get to Denverson. Not to mention, we have one event scheduled in town the weekend before we leave.
That leaves us all of three weeks.
James chuckles, walks past me, and heads inside. He’s not one for conversation. He’s the quietest of the group, but he’ll always add his opinions when it’s necessary.
“Thanks. It took me a long time to get my hair to look this good,” I reply sarcastically, running my hand through my mussed hair.
I catch a glimpse of Samantha. Her lips purse, and she nods. “Yeah, it sure looks that way.”
I pack down my cigarettes, banging them upside down in my palm, and flip the tab to open them before taking one out with my teeth. With one quick flick of my lighter, the paper burns easily as I take in a mouthful of smoke.
“I didn’t really sleep much,” I admit. Truthfully, I couldn’t sleep after leaving Summer’s house. All I could think about is my arms wrapping around her small frame with my guitar in her lap. How beautiful she’d look.
“Bone Summer too much?” Sam teases, and my muscles tense. I have to bite my tongue to refrain from saying something that I’m going to regret.
I would rather not say anything at all.
Samantha gets the point. “Look, I’m sorry. It was left wide open.”
I shake my head, irritated. “She’s not like that.”
Sam sighs. “I don’t doubt that for a second. She looks like a very nice girl, but Alec…”
I stop her right there, not allowing her to have a single second to finish what she was planning to say. “Are you going to tell me I’m making a big mistake? Throwing away my life for some girl? Looking at jail time? Screwing up the band? Because if so, I don’t want to fucking hear it, Sam.”
I caught her off guard, considering her eyes flung open. “Uhm.. OK. How about we talk about Callie? Did she like her gift?”
Smart move changing the subject.
“She did,” I mutter under my breath.
Samantha smiles. “That’s great. Everything went well?”
My eyes move to the other side of the road where a young couple is pushing a stroller. I don’t answer Samantha.
Sam blows out a breath. “I’ll just see you inside, then.”
She pushes herself up, reaching for the handle on the door.
“Tyler’s on his way,” I let her know.
She turns back to me, nothing but the sound of her breathing mixes with the light breeze that passes. Finally, she says, “Alec. You’re an adult and are going to make your own decisions, but please know I worry about you. We all worry about you.”
The moment the door closes, I let my breath out, not realizing I had held it for so long. It’s not that I don’t appreciate Samantha’s concern. I understand, truly. I do. I have thought about every possible negative impact being around Summer could cause.
But, besides my band, I have nothing left to live for. Maybe the selfish part of me knew that. I silently laugh at myself for thinking this plan could work. Deep down, I knew it wouldn’t.
It’s Raleigh. He’s as ignorant as ignorant can get, and truthfully, no matter how much he loves his daughter, he will ultimately convince her how much of a piece of trash I am.
For a while, I believed it. But maybe wanting my charges dropped and needing them to be are two different things. With the small conversations I’ve had with Summer, maybe she’s opening my eyes to the possibility that there is more to life than forcing myself down the rabbit hole I’ve been stuck in. I refuse to believe she’s the cause though. But maybe, despite the record I do have, I could still be more. I could still prove I’m a good person.
All I have to do is believe it myself.
I finish my cigarette and allow my mind to drift. Summer is the first person to pop into my mind. What she’d look like sprawled across my bed, her body completely exposed for me. My bottom lip slips between my teeth, and my cock jerks behind my shorts as I imagine how her hands would feel gripping every inch of my body. What she would sound like while I fuck her to the ends of the universe.
I want to talk to her. I long to see that perfect, pretty smile of hers.
I pull out my phone to text her.
What color bra are you wearing?
I put my hand against my head, forgetting that she doesn’t have my phone number. As soon as I go to send another message to clarify that it’s me, my phone vibrates and a response pops up.
Hello, Alec.
My smile is on full display, and I run my fingers over the screen to type out a reply and hit send.
How’d you know?
Well, I don’t know many people who would ask me what color bra I’m wearing. Given our recent encounters, it seems like a stalkerish thing to ask.
A laugh falls from my lungs.
Oh, so you’re not wearing one?
Funeral clothes.
Grief slams into my gut. I forgot her mother’s funeral was happening. I only knew it was because it was in the newspaper a few days ago. Feeling like an asshole, I run my fingers across the letters on the screen and hit send.
Sorry… how did that go?
Could have been better.
I frown, feeling a grip on my heart. The reminder of my parents’ funeral plops in my head. Losing them was the worst feeling I ever felt. The part of knowing they’re gone, but are still in denial. I will never forget how sufferable it was to see everyone cry, only to forget them months, even years later while I’m stuck with the consistent wound from losing them that’ll never heal. The pain of losing a parent sits with you for the rest of your life. It never gets easier.
Taking a second to think of what to say, I decide it’s better to change the subject. If she’s anything like me, I wouldn’t want to talk about it longer than necessary.
Come over later.
That wasn’t a question, more of an invitation. One I’m hoping she takes. When I see the bubbles appear in the bottom left corner, my stomach twists, and anticipation rises throughout my veins, but they disappear all too quickly, leaving me with disappointment.
I stuff out my cigarette and toss it into the ashtray before heading inside the studio. Pushing the door open, I head straight for my guitar, ignoring Samantha and James, who are on the red carpet where the equipment is set up.
Tyler comes in shortly after, heading straight for the drum set. “Can we make this quick? I have a hot brunette waiting for me.”
I hear Samantha make a gagging noise, and James’s laugh, but I ignore it, squinting my eyes while my teeth grind as I struggle with the latches on my guitar case. I curse out loud and they finally budge and fling open.
When I turn around, everyone is staring at me like I have grown ten heads, but quickly, they avert their gaze, and I take a stand at the middle mic.
“Let’s start from the top,” I state, my tone anything but enthused.
As we begin to play, my thoughts travel elsewhere. I was hoping that despite my clouded judgment, I’d be preoccupied, focusing on the band. In all honesty, I can’t keep my focus in check. All I can think about is Summer’s smile and how fucking beautiful she is. My mind travels to her fluffy lips, pressing against every inch of my body in nothing but a bra… if she wears one. The thought makes my cock rock hard.
Ah, fuck.
The instruments cut out as the studio falls silent. James and Tyler both stop playing at the same time, and I felt Samantha’s eyes drilling me from the side. My body stiffens. I tilt my head down to my shoulder and give a slight roll of my neck until I hear a crack.
“Dude, you never screw up a note. What the fuck is going on with you?” James’s voice echoes in my ears.
I lean back, sitting on the stool behind me, and run my fingers through my hair, using my guitar to cover my hard-on before Samantha walks over to me. She rests her hand on my shoulder, and I turn my head to see her face, which is full of concern.
“Alec, seriously. Are you OK?”
I shake my head. It’s clear that I’m not fucking OK. She knows it, and now the guys know. But I can’t explain what is wrong with me even if I want to.
Once my cock limps and I gather myself again, I run one hand down my face. “Let’s go again.”