Rocked Senseless: A Stand-Alone Rock Star Romance, page 8
Madison grins widely and crosses her arms in front of her chest, leaning down to my level. I can see right down her V-neck at this angle. I stop hating myself, for only a moment, to salivate over her generous, round, ivory tits.
“Well, well, well. After fifteen years, he finally admits it.” She pokes my nose playfully, then leans in to whisper in my ear. “I know you’re not telling me the full story, so we’ll talk about this later.” Madison squeezes my shoulder, a little too hard, and sweeps past me, leaving the scent of her crisp, sharp body spray in her wake.
My head spins with lust. She’s such a force of nature. After seeing my prissy bitch of a girlfriend out with another man, all I want to do is take a strong woman like Madison into my bed and prove I’m ten times the man Celeste thinks I am.
Just the thought of our bodies tangled up with each other makes my cock strain against the confines of my jeans. I have to get out of here if I’m going to maintain any sense of self-control.
I excuse myself from the table, muttering something about Mom needing me to do shit around the house. I honestly couldn’t repeat what I’m saying right now, because the image of Madison’s tits in my face is still firmly imprinted in my mind. Everyone says their thanks for the muffins as I exit the front door, a mere ten minutes after entering.
I wipe the sweat from my brow as I walk the short distance between the two houses. It’s still early, but summer mornings get hot in the South. It doesn’t take long at all to get drenched in sweat, even from just stepping outside the house.
Of course, it doesn’t help that I’m in the middle of the biggest sexual crisis of my life, with my best friend as the subject. I have no idea what’s happening to me. Maybe I’m having some kind of mental breakdown.
Considering all Celeste has put me through, it wouldn’t be a surprise. I have done nothing but bend over backwards to make that woman happy since the day we met. She wanted me to stop hanging out with Mads and the guys so much. Reluctantly, I agreed. She wanted me to take out my lip piercing a mere two days after getting it. I took it out, and the skin closed up. She wanted me to start wearing concealer over every blemish and scar on my face. I did it so she’d stop cringing at the sight of them. I walk her stupid chihuahua so she won’t have to pick up its shit. I cook all her meals. I wait on her hand and foot.
How am I just now realizing how pussy-whipped I’ve been?
Dragging my hand through my hair, I shake my head and set my jaw. I refuse to let myself go down this rabbit hole.
At least, not until I have solid proof that my famous girlfriend is going out with another man.
The wind sweeps across my cheeks as the lyrics pour from my lips. I barely even feel myself singing them. They’re a part of me, ingrained into my being, the same way the bodies in these graves are.
Except, unlike my mother and sister, I know the lyrics. I wrote them one day when I came out to visit them.
Lost days
Never to be found
I can’t even remember
When you were around
Lost ways
I’ve lost you underground
Someday I will find you
On my own way down
I trace the engravings in the granite. The date of their deaths is October 31, my and my twin sister’s birthday.
At two a.m. on Halloween, my mother went into labor with myself and my twin. They took her straight in for a C-section because of how premature we were. Unfortunately, my twin sister had died in utero, which is what caused her to go into labor in the first place. We still don’t know why she died. It’s a question that gnaws at me when I’m awake late at night, one that will probably never be answered.
My mother was so distressed when she heard my sister was dead that she had a heart attack on the table. Thirty minutes later, she was gone. I came into the world, and two people left. Halloween has a whole different meaning in my family. It’s not a celebration of death; it’s a bitter reminder.
Dad named my twin sister Raven. Some thought it was because he thought of her as bad luck, or because she had died and caused the death of my mother. Truthfully, he named her that because of the mop of black hair on her head. He said his little “raven” had left the world too soon, so they made that her official name.
I sigh and place my bouquet of chrysanthemums and daisies in the vase by their graves, reaching down to trace the raven tattoo on my leg. I raise my other arm and stare at the tattoo artist’s rendering of a bouquet of daisies. I hear daisies were my mother’s favorite. I wish I could have brought her little wads of wildflowers like most kids bring their mothers after a day of playing outside. Instead, I’m stuck buying expensive bouquets for a vase that will continually host dying or fake flowers for the rest of my existence.
Yet Logan’s dad is still out there living and breathing, probably getting into all sorts of shit in jail. Life is so unfair.
Sometimes I still wonder if Raven’s death was my fault. I was slightly bigger, so it’s possible I was taking the lion’s share of the food and she wasn’t getting enough. Are two people dead because of me? That’s a question that will likely haunt me for the rest of my life. It’s a large part of the cloud of misery that hangs over my head, the one that everyone seems to relate to so well.
I leave the cemetery and drive into Greenville to visit Reedy River Park. The only videos I have of Mom are when she came here with Dad before I was born. It’s my favorite spot to go to cheer myself up after visiting my mother and sister’s grave sites.
As I stand on a bridge overlooking the river, I pull my guitar out of its case, throw the leather strap around my body and start singing again. I watch the water ripple and gurgle underneath me, and my music attunes to its rhythm. Everything in the universe has a melody, harmony, rhythm, and rhyme. Nana always tells me everything happens for a reason. I don’t know why I had to lose my mother, my sister, and Papa, or why my dad has to be a gallivanting dickweed, but I do know everything I’ve been through has made me stronger.
I never bend. I never apologize. And it’s all because I’ve been to hell and back more times than I care to relive.
Suddenly, I hear giggling from my left. Two teenage girls are recording me on their phones as I sing. I stop and scowl at them.
“What the hell are you gawking at?”
Their faces turn ashen. One of them, a beautiful girl with rich dark braids and deep brown skin, smiles nervously. “We were just enjoying the private performance.”
“Please keep singing,” the skinny, red-headed girl begs. “We promise not to disturb you.”
I look around and notice a few other people clustered around the bridge, watching me. Some part of me needs the comfort they can give through the love of my music. I ask the girls which song they want me to sing. They name a song I sang on tour.
As I strum the guitar and start belting my melody, people gather closer to hear me. Several of them pull out their phones to record me. Their eyes reflect the emotions in the song. I cherish the burn of the strings on my fingers and the way my chest swells as the music intensifies.
“We love you, Madison,” the redhead cries. The crowd cheers and applauds in response. I smile, thrilled beyond words that they know who I am and didn’t just pick out a random singing stranger. More and more people join the crowd until half the people in the park are listening to me. My hometown loves me. Maybe my life isn’t fucked beyond repair just yet.
Half an hour later, the impromptu concert is still going in full force. I notice a familiar face join the crowd. My heart skips a beat when Logan’s dark eyes meet mine.
Between verses, I mouth the words, “Help me.” As much as I’m enjoying the performance, I don’t want to sit here and perform for free all night. When my song ends, Logan breaks through the crowd and holds up his hands in front of me.
“That’s enough, people. Move along. Don’t make me call our security guards.”
I lean in and whisper in his ear. “We have security guards?”
“Just fucking play along,” Logan says through his teeth.
The crowd disperses, and after I pack my guitar in its case, Logan leads me back to his car. It’s parked near mine. He must have heard from Nana that I was going to pay my respects to my mother and sister and knew I’d be here as part of my ritual.
“You didn’t have to come here,” I tell him as I place my guitar case in the trunk of my car. I slam the trunk shut and lean against it. Logan leans against the car too. He pulls me into a snug embrace.
“I figured you might need a friend,” he says, kissing the top of my head.
I wrap my arms around his waist and blink back tears. For all my bravado and “tough girl” attitude, I’m still only human. Logan is the only man who ever gets to see me like this. Weak. Vulnerable. Sad. Alone.
Well, I guess not completely alone.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
Logan nods against my head. His phone rings, and he brings it up to his ear to answer it. “Hello?”
Logan’s body turns to stone against me. He steps away, covering one ear to block out the ambient sounds echoing up from the park. “Are you sure? Goddamnit . . . that fucking cunt. I can’t believe it.”
My chest tightens. What the hell is going on?
After hanging up, Logan lets out a primal yell and hurls his phone down to the ground. The impact makes the screen shatter into a million pieces. Logan turns to his own car and slams the hood, hunching over it as if he’s going to collapse.
I place a hand on his back. “What happened?”
Tears bead in his eyes, but he’s too angry to let them fall. “That was the security guard at my apartment complex. I asked him to let me know if Celeste went into our apartment with another man.”
My stomach drops. “Celeste is cheating on you?”
Logan nods. “It was all over the news. He said she’s been in there for three hours with him.” Logan sags against the car. It creaks under the weight of his body. “I can’t believe I let that cheating bitch own me for two years.”
My heart aches for him. I drop my hand to my side, unsure of what to do or say. I’ve been in this exact situation before, and I know nothing can really make it better but time. “I’m so sorry.”
Logan turns, his hurt and betrayal slowly morphing into something else as he stares at me. His gaze moves down toward my lips. Cupping my jaw, he brushes his thumb over my lower lip, making me salivate.
I stare at his lips, swallowing hard. One other thing can make getting cheated on feel better: revenge sex. From the look in his midnight eyes, Logan is definitely thinking what I’m thinking.
Is this really a good idea? I don’t want to be his rebound . . .
Still, it’s been a while since I had a good fuck, and if Logan’s dick size matches his body, I’m in for the treat of a lifetime.
I step backward, breaking off my destructive train of thought. Letting Logan revenge-fuck me is a terrible idea. He needs time to grieve this relationship and let his heart heal. I’ll only get in the way of that.
“Are you okay to drive home?” I ask him.
Logan sighs, looking past me at the park. “I think I might just walk around here for a while.”
I nod. “I understand. I’ll see you at home. Let me know if you need me to come over tonight.”
Logan nods and passes me to enter the park again. My roving eyes train in on his sculpted ass as he leaves. I get in the car and pause before cranking the ignition, bracing myself on the steering wheel.
Would being his revenge-fuck really be so bad?
The disco ball flashed and radiated light to every corner of the room as the music pounded from the speakers. Girls in expensive dresses bobbed around us in the arms of their teenaged, tux-clad dates. I looked down at Jenalyn, amazed that one of the most popular girls in school had said “yes” to my invitation to prom. As the cheerleading co-captain, she must have had scores of guys on their knees begging her to go with them, but she held out for me. I must have been better-looking than I thought.
It was flattering, but no matter how hard I tried to forget it, I still wished I was here with someone else.
Jenalyn’s deep brown eyes were full of fire and excitement as she wiggled her womanly hips. Her sparkling, sleeveless dress hugged her well-developed curves in all the right places. I placed my hands on her hips, pulling her closer to me and feeling a reaction spring to life in my lower region. I still hadn’t had penetrative sex yet, but my chances were looking good if the hungry look in Jenalyn’s eyes meant anything.
I glanced over at Madison to see how her night was going. She looked up at Travis through hooded, black-fringed eyes and said something I couldn’t make out. He gyrated against her, pulling her tightly against him. Madison gasped and giggled, a sound that bubbled through the atmosphere and filled and broke me all at once.
It was for the best. I knew it was. But that didn’t change the fact that it hurt like hell.
I lean over the railing, staring into the water unseeingly. I just found out Celeste is cheating on me. My thoughts should be consumed with her. Yet all I can think about is the way Madison recoiled from me when I touched her lips.
Am I really that repulsive to her?
I should have known my attraction to her was one-sided. When we were sixteen, I asked her to junior prom. At first, she agreed because no one else had asked her and she didn’t want to go alone. I bought her a corsage, rented a limo, and had everything ready to blow her mind. Then the kicker for the football team asked her to go, and she cancelled our plans.
That was ten fucking years ago. Why would anything be different now?
To be fair, I never made it clear I wanted to go as her date. I pussyfooted around the issue, said “you don’t have anyone to go with, I don’t have anyone to go with . . . ”
I should have been a man and asked her out for real. At least then, I’d know for sure if there’s a chance for us.
My knuckles turn white as I grip the white painted steel bar in front of me.
Why am I such a goddamn coward?
I yank myself away from the railing and take long, quick strides toward the parking lot. Sitting around and thinking about my problems is getting me nowhere. There’s only one thing that makes me feel better when I’m down, and that’s pounding the fuck out of a drum set. It wouldn’t hurt to have some alcohol, too.
At least there’s one silver lining: I don’t have to be the one to break Trevor Norman’s little girl’s heart, because she broke mine first.
I trudge inside the house and slam the front door shut. The force rattles the whole house and knocks a picture frame off a shelf in the living room. Luckily, the carpeted floor prevents the glass from shattering. I cross the room and pick it up. The photo is of me and my mom on a roller coaster at Six Flags Over Georgia. My dad didn’t like roller coasters, so Mom took me on my first one. She screamed and threw her arms above her head, freeing me to have whatever reaction I wanted and not feel embarrassed. It’s a good memory, one that wasn’t tainted by him. The only pictures we have in the house are the ones he was absent from.
Mom looks up at me from her place on the couch, where she’s watching Days of Our Lives. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”
I place the picture frame back on the shelf and swallow hard. “I just found out Celeste is cheating on me.”
Mom’s face turns red. “That little bitch!”
“It’s okay, I’m okay.” I sit down next to her and take her hand in both of mine. Mom can get a little overprotective of me sometimes. If Celeste was in the room with us, Mom would already have both hands around her neck.
“Well, I’m not! I’m going to call her bitch ass and give her a piece of my mind.” Mom pulls out her phone and starts searching for Celeste’s number.
I push her hand down. “No, no, please. That will only make things worse. Remember who her dad is.”
Mom’s eyes widen. “Oh, right.” She turns to look at me. Tears glitter in her eyes. “Are you okay, sweet pea?”
I sigh. “Not really, but I’ll manage.”
The sadness in her eyes almost crushes me. “I never wanted my baby to go through something like this. People can be so cruel,” she says with a catch in her voice.
“I’ll be fine, Ma.” I pull her into a hug. Mom sobs softly against my shoulder. “It’s not that big of a deal. I was thinking of breaking up with her anyway.”
“Madison would never do this to you.”
I whip my head around to look at her. “What did you just say?”
Mom wipes the tears from her eyes. She anchors me with her hands on mine. “Logan, I know you say Mads is only a friend, but I’ve never seen a man and a woman love each other as much as you do. She would be so much better for you. Why don’t you give it a chance?”
A groan born of years of agony vibrates from my chest. “Mom, I already told you the prom story. You know I tried a long time ago, and nothing came out of it.”
Her dark eyebrows raise, creating long creases in her forehead. “But did you really try?”
Her words shoot straight to my heart. She’s my mother, she can see right through my bullshit. I don’t know why I still try to front for her. She knows I chickened out and didn’t tell Madison my true feelings.
I stand and shake out my arms. “I’m gonna go pound some polyester.”
“Okay, honey.” I try not to notice the pity in her eyes as I walk away.
Sweat trickles down the back of my neck as I down another shot’s worth of Kraken, bracing myself on the stool. The garage gets hot in the summer, but it’s the only place Mom will allow me to keep a drum set. I’ve been beating the drums for hours, but my angst hasn’t died down one bit. In fact, it’s stronger than ever.
She’s right there, half an acre away from me, and I can’t get up the nerve to go talk to her. Why?
Because I know if I go over to talk to her, it’s going to take all my willpower not to plant my lips on hers and show her why she should have gone to the prom with me.
