He deserves it.
He deserves monsters of his own.
He deserves them so much more than I do.
Lost in my own head, sinking in my own shit, I reach for a random face in the dark and feel scruff beneath my hand. I quickly swipe my thumb over his lips, because, in my head, a flinch would be an objection, and I would move on quickly.
When I feel a hand on my head, pulling me in a different direction, and the man whose lips I was going to kiss begin cursing in a foreign language, I open my eyes and look toward the handsy man … a man with soft brown and somewhat tormented eyes, framed in thick, black lashes, face lightly covered in black hair, and lips that look so soft that I have to kiss them.
My lips catch fire, his scent familiar, but I know that crazy notion is driven by my monsters, too.
When I get pulled back, I know the culprit’s firm grip. Ranger, my freaking bodyguard hired by my parents to protect me from possible crazed fans, or so they say. I know damn well he’s here to protect me from … myself.
Right now, he’s my least favorite person on the planet, because my lips still feel like fire, and I have never felt that from anyone, anyone except him … Marcello.
Eyes still locked to the man who caused the burn I feel hope for the first time, and behind his, this man whose name I don’t know and probably never will … regret.
“I’m sorry,” I mouth.
He cocks his head to the side, looking confused.
I shake my head as I’m being carried back, my hand to my heart, and yell out, “I’m so sorry!”
Ranger-ed
Tris
By the time he fades away, so does the anxiety caused by it all, and annoyance takes hold.
“You think your parents are going to back off now?” he snaps as he finally sets me on my feet backstage.
“They don’t get a say in a few short months. I’ll be eighteen,” I snap back, straightening my dress.
“Tris!” Dad yells my name from behind me.
“Here we freaking go,” I grumble.
Ranger scowls. “Don’t be a shit. At least they give a damn.”
If I didn’t know Brisa had a lady boner for him, I would have found a way to get rid of him when he started showing up everywhere I was trying to hide.
“Park your childhood trauma in the employee parking lot and leave me to deal with mine.”
“Why the hell I put up with you is beyond me,” he huffs as he turns and walks away.
“It probably has a lot to do with all the zeros in your paycheck,” I call behind him.
“You okay?” Mom throws her arms around me.
“Oh my God, Mom, I’m fine. Same show, different night.” I wiggle away from her insanely tight clutches.
Dad grabs me up next. “They almost came through the cattle control barrier.”
“It’s crowd control, and I’m fine,” I grumble as I attempt to wiggle away. “But seriously, you’re squishing me.”
He steps back and takes my hands. “Nothing squishy about you. Have you been eating?”
“Dad, we had dinner last night.” I pull my hands away and step farther back. “You need to loosen the damn leash, both of you.”
“Be easier to do if you’d follow some rules, you know.”
“It’s part of the act. And besides, I actually liked kissing that guy. That’s a first. You should both be happy with that, huh?”
Mom looks mortified. Dad looks briefly amused, briefly.
“Really, Mom?”
“I’m not sure what to say, Tris.” Tears begin to pool in her eyes. Tears are always filling her eyes. Well, ever since they found out their little girl wasn’t perfect.
“Say it’s a step in the right direction and smile, for God’s sake.”
“Tris, VIP area to meet your fans,” Tricks calls to me.
I look back at Dad and smile like Brisa does. “And I have fans.”
“Of course you do. But don’t you ever forget that your mother and I are your biggest fans.”
“Corny.” I shake my head as I turn to follow Tricks and the girls.
Standing in front of the pop-up banner with our logo on it, the crowd gathered outside the VIP tent is loud.
“Looks like a giant womb,” Rain whispers, and I can’t help but laugh.
“You bump up?” Zoey asks.
“Why would you ask her that?” Mae snips.
“She was a freaking zombie before we went on stage, and then—”
“High on the notes.”
“And the kiss.” Mae beams. “He was the hottest yet.”
“Grabbed your head with his big man hand and pulled you away from the other guy. That was hot, Tris, so freaking hot,” Rain moans.
“Why do girls like possessive dicks?” I half-joke, but only half because I get it. I so get it, but I hate that I do.
Rain shrugs. “Possessive sometimes looks an awful lot like protective.”
“And what exactly was he protecting her from?” Zoey huffs.
The conversation is interrupted by the first group of VIPs shrieking as they almost run in, all three young, too freaking young, to be wearing our band’s tee-shirt with the vag logo on it, which I’m pretty sure not everyone thinks is a vag, but that’s because they aren’t twisted like me. And Rain. I may just like her for real.
All dark-haired beauties are beaming as they all but rush and hug me, speaking in a language that doesn’t sound French to me, more Spanish, but let’s be honest, I didn’t pay attention at all in Spanish class and was kicked out of school in the tenth grade, so it could be Swahili for all I know.
After unwrapping themselves from me, they say the first thing I understand, “We love you!”
You wouldn’t if you knew me, is what I want to say, but they shouldn’t be burdened with my lunacy, any more than they should be unknowingly wearing a vag shirt. But this is “show business.”
“Thank you.” My smile is one that I hope matches their energy and doesn’t spill the fact that this is completely out of my comfort zone.
“Picture?” I ask, putting a final nail in the comfort coffin. Then I squat down between them, and one of the three girls, who are definitely related—hopefully not second cousins, or one will no doubt be fucking the other’s boyfriends in just a few short years—holds out her phone for a selfie and can’t quite get us all in.
“Dad!” I yell, knowing he’s here somewhere, even if I can’t see him. Since the “revelation” that their little girl is no longer a little girl, they are no different from Ranger who, when I’m eighteen, is totally gone because I can’t fucking breathe with everyone always up my ass.
“On it,” Dad calls.
“Papá?” one of the girls asks before handing him her phone.
“Yes, Papa and Mom.” I smile as I look at the camera.
“Papá, ven a conocer a Tris Steel. El tío Matteo también!”
“First picture, yeah?” I ask, wrapping my arms around two as Mom fusses with getting the other in front of us.
After the first picture is taken, Mom insists, “Now, one at a time.”