Bad For Me (My Forbidden Rockstar) (18 page)

I grab my bag and hurry back out into the crowded hallways
in search of Dom. I can’t find him anywhere, and I stop one of the stagehands
to ask if they know where the band went.

“They’re doing a meet and a greet. They will be free in
about an hour.”

An hour? I feel all of the excitement whoosh out of me. I
don’t want to wait around like some needy groupie. It’s not a big deal, I tell
myself.  I’ll see Dom again for tomorrow’s show.

I make my way back out to my car, wondering if I should have
stayed around. But I don’t want to turn into
that
girl, I need to be
able to give him space.

* * *

I spend most of the next day sleeping because my exhaustion
has finally caught up to me. I spend more time then I’d like to admit thinking
about Dom, and I’m positive he’s not sitting around thinking about me this
much. Ugh. I don’t like feeling this way. I’m getting too attached too fast.

I show up for Sunday’s show, and look for Dom in vain. The
band receives first class treatment, and no one can get near them. Once on
stage, he gives me a quick wave but doesn’t come over to kiss me again. I know
I shouldn’t be hurt, but I am. The chemistry between us is hot as ever on
stage, but I find myself wondering if it’s just an act; just part of Dom’s
onstage persona.

I don’t bother looking for him after Sunday’s show. We have
to be on the buses at noon the next day, and I still have piles of laundry to
do.

I spend Sunday morning packing the last of my things and
moping around the apartment. Ever perceptive, Elle, notices but has the decency
not to ask me about it. My old car has been sent to the junk yard, and my dad
kindly sends a car to take me back to the Honda Center to get on the tour bus.
Once I see the town car arrive, I give Elle a long hug. I suddenly feel
incredibly sad.

“I’ll miss you,” I tell her.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” she warns me, fixing me with her
gaze.

“Too late,” I whisper.

She sighs, and smiles at me. I smile back and give her a
small wave as I leave the apartment. It’s hard to imagine that I won’t be back
for three months.

I’m grateful my dad has actually sent a car and not a limo.
The last thing I want is to show up to the buses in a limo.

The parking lot is busy, and I know that the stage crew
packed up most of the stage overnight and was probably already in Vegas setting
up for tonight’s show. I see the band’s bus nearby; it’s the most extravagant
bus on the lot and can’t be missed. Mel, Liz and I share a much more modest
bus, but that doesn’t bother me, I'm relieved that we aren't sharing a bus with
the boys.

Dragging my suitcases behind me, I climb the steps to the
bus and I can’t help but feel excited, regardless of the current weirdness
between Dom and I. Liz and Mel are already on the bus, and I can hear them
talking as I step into the small but comfortable space. The bus might be tiny
and cramped, but it’s my first tour bus and I can’t help but feel thrilled as I
look around.

The length of the bus is lined with two black couches and a
small black granite-tiled kitchen. There’s a modest TV mounted on one of the
walls, and there’s a glossy kitchen table built into the side of the bus. Mel
and Liz are standing in a small room in the back of the bus and I make my way
back towards them.

I walk into what must be the bedroom at the rear of the bus.
The room is tight, and there are two bunks built into each side of the room.
There are drawers and cabinets built into the walls, and I see a tiny door ajar
to what must be the bathroom.

“Hi!” Liz chirps energetically.

Mel turns her back to me.

Whatever.

I can see that Liz and Mel have claimed their bunks, so I go
ahead and take the top bunk above Liz. Mel can have the two bunks to herself.
The three of us get to unpacking, and after about ten minutes, a tall older man
with a worn LA Dodgers hat climbs on the bus. He gives us a friendly smile.

“Hi ladies! I’m Mickey, you’re driver.”

“Hi!” Liz speaks up, exiting the bedroom as Mel and I
follow. “I’m Liz. This is Mel, and this is Annie.”

Mickey smiles at each of us, repeating our names to himself.

“I see you ladies are getting settled. We are going to pull
out of here in about ten minutes. Later on today, you’ll meet Andrew one of the
other drivers who will be trading off with me sometimes, especially if it’s a
night where we need to drive straight through to the next stop.”

We bob our heads in acknowledgement.

Mel curls up on one of the couches, and Liz and I drift back
to the bedroom to finish putting our stuff away. I’m glad I packed light
because there isn’t much room at all. We pull out of the parking lot to make
our way to Vegas, and I press my nose to the glass as I watch Dom’s bus pull
out too. I imagine Dom on his bus, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s doing.

Chapter Nineteen

Dom

I stretch out on the bed as the bus pulls out on the road.
I’m exhausted and all I want to do is sleep. It’s been a whirlwind of activity
the past few days, and I’m tired as hell. Avery already laid down in his bunk,
and Jenner and Johnny are sitting on the couches, playing with their laptops.

I close the blinds, and lay back down on the bed.

Of course I see Annie’s face and I try to think of something
else, anything else.

I know I’ve been a real shit since the day we hooked up. On
opening night, I kissed her onstage because I felt this surge of feelings for
her. But then I went out onstage and fucking rocked it, and I wondered what the
hell I was doing getting myself tangled up with a woman just as the band was
going on tour.

Going on tour is the Mecca of free sex. I can get as much as
I want, whenever I want, however I want, and with no strings attached. It's as
easy as getting candy on Halloween. All I have to do is look at some knock out,
and she will come to me like a moth to a fucking flame.

I know I'm being a dickhead, and part of me doesn’t even
want to sleep around knowing I have someone as hot as Annie waiting for me, but
I can’t deny who I am. Because that is what I am, right?

I grumble to myself, punch a pillow and roll over.

Fuck! Why does Annie make me feel like this? It’s like I’m
twenty-two all over again, the way I felt when I fell for Emily.

Emily was my fucking world, my fucking everything. I loved
that girl with every fiber of my being. I would have bought a ring for her,
waited for her to walk down an aisle in a white dress, and then helped make
loads of babies with her.

That’s how amazing Emily was.

Until she fucking ripped out my heart and stomped on it.

She met someone while she was living abroad for the summer,
and everything we had shared seemed to slip through our hands like a fistful of
sand. She came home and confessed that she was in love with some Italian dude,
picked up her life and moved to Florence. The last I heard she was happily
married, living in Tuscany, and the mama of two little girls.

Whenever I make the mistake of thinking about her, I can
still feel the hole she left in my heart. I swore I would never let a girl get
under my skin again, would never let myself feel something like that for the
opposite sex.

That’s what frightened me about Annie. Because I can see
myself falling down the rabbit hole with her all over again. I can see myself
turning into some sappy prick, writing love songs and sending her flowers while
I picture her becoming Mrs. Dresden.

I can’t let that happen.

I know I promised her that I wasn’t going to fuck her and
ditch her, and technically I didn’t fuck her. And I’m not gonna lie, I still
dream about fucking her, with that killer body, especially now that I’ve had a
taste of her.

But I’m just going to have to get by with second-rate pussy
that comes my way, because giving into Annie is an emotional step that I don’t
want to take. It’s better that she dislikes me now, better that she remembers
all the reasons she disliked me before.

I try not to think about the stories she told me about her
family, the way she opened up to me. And Christ, I try not to think about how
silky smooth the skin was on her inner thighs, or how pink her sex was, and the
way she tasted on my lips. I hum to myself trying to forget her cries of
pleasures, the way she moaned my name, and the way she looked at me when she
came, her crystal blue eyes wide and locked on mine as she unraveled before me.

I jump off the bed and splash cold water on my face at the
sink. Sleep is obviously not an option. Of course, my fucking dick is hard after
remembering my moments with Annie but I ignore it, taking the uncomfortable
pain as my sentence for replaying those memories.

I grab my iPod and jam the earplugs in my ears. I put on
Queen’s Greatest Hits, and rock out to Freddie Mercury. I focus hard on the
lyrics so my brain can’t think of anything else.

* * *

Not surprisingly, we kick ass in Las Vegas and then go on to
do a badass concert in Phoenix. Annie tried to talk to me once in Vegas, but
after I ignored her she stalked off and hasn't bothered me since. She looked
hurt but oh well.

We're on a tight schedule so I haven’t been able to bring
any girls on the bus to help get my mind off Annie. We were in and out of Vegas
and Phoenix, and then we started our three-day trip across the country to New
York. We even have drivers taking shifts because we're only stopping for food
breaks and gas.

I remember Annie saying that her mom lived in New York and
she was anxious to see her. Originally I told Annie that I would love to come
meet her mother, but that sure as hell wasn’t happening now.

The second day into our road trip has me in a pissy mood. I
thought I would be feeling better now about cutting Annie loose, but I'm only
feeling shittier with each passing day.

My mood is fucking dark by the time we stop in Nashville for
lunch. Nashville is an unbelievable town, and I am doubly pissed that I am
wasting away the few hours I have to spend in one of my favorite cities.

The guys and I decide to go to one of our favorite
restaurants in the heart of downtown, Jack’s Bar-B-Que. We walk in and are
whisked away to a quiet table, but not before I catch sight of Annie sitting
halfway across the restaurant.

You have got to be fucking kidding me. There must be
hundreds of restaurants in town and she happened to choose this one?

I drink in her appearance, she has her long brown hair in a
ponytail, and her fantastic tits are busting out of her tight t-shirt. She’s
wearing faded jeans and boots, and she fits effortlessly into the Nashville
scene. Mel is fiddling with her phone, and Liz and Annie seem to be deep in
conversation about something. As if she can feel my eyes on her, Annie looks up
quickly and our eyes lock for a moment.

Shit.

I quickly look down at my menu.

“Hey, isn’t that Annie?” Jenner asks.

“Shut up,” I growl.

I look up to see Liz glaring at me, and Annie is already
making her way towards me. I don't have time to hide and before I know it,
she’s beside the table. Her body looks even more banging than I remembered it.

“Can I talk to you?” she asks in a tight voice.

“What about?” I say coolly.

“About the weather,” she says sarcastically, “What the hell
do you think, Dom?”

Oh yeah, she’s pissed.

“Oohhh,” Johnny sings, like I’m a little kid about to get in
trouble.

“Fuck off,” I direct at Johnny. “Fine, let’s talk,” I say,
not moving.

“Here?” she asks incredulously. Good. Hopefully she won’t
make a scene in front of the guys. I just shrug as if to show her I don’t care.

“Fine,” she spits.

I quickly realize the huge mistake I've made, because she
unleashes the fury of Hell on me.

“I’d ask you why you’re being a colossal prick after what
went down between us, but I think I already know the answer. You’re being a
complete douche bag because you
are
a complete douche bag! And I was a
total fool to trust you! To think that you meant every apology you gave me,
every bullshit response, every line about wanting to get to know me better!”

I wince internally because she’s right and because the guys
are hearing all of this. The guys’ jaws are on the table as Annie continues to
lay into me and give me a piece of her mind.

“I should have known you were no good when you tried to kiss
me TWICE when I didn’t want you to! TWICE! And then finding that tramp’s thong
in your car should have been the clearest signal ever! But no! I gave you
another fucking chance, only for you to hook up with me and then drop me like
one of your ho bag groupies!”

“Annie,” I say quietly. She’s shouting now and the whole
restaurant is looking. And not only that but people have their phones out and
are taking pictures, or worse, recording, because it seems that I’ve been
recognized as someone in a famous band.