This is bad, so very bad.
He never should have touched me. We’re like a match ready to set fire to dry brush, incinerating and destroying all in our path.
My face is inches from his mouth; his breath kisses my lips. I’m so close I can see through his dark sunglasses.
Our eyes lock and do battle.
Pain.
It’s a new pain, fresh and powerful. I’m actually grateful he’s holding me. Because this agony wants to steal my soul and never give it back.
We’re ugly and damaged.
Damaged people should never be together. But then that’s the allure: it’s forbidden, addictive.
“Who is she?” Paulette says, her face a puffy mess.
Sebastian reaches down to help her, frowning at Rhys.
The restaurant is a buzz of activity. Security is clearing people out; busboys are cleaning up the glass.
He holds me tight, and I can feel his hard cock on my ass. I hiss at his gall. Then he lets me go. I reach back for a chair to steady myself.
“She’s nothing,” he says tightly, then turns and steps over to Sebastian. “Who the fuck are you?”
Sebastian looks shocked. “I’m the one helping your girlfriend. The fuck’s wrong with you? Gia, get over here.” And I almost groan out loud. Because unless Rhys has changed…
He hasn’t, and in seconds, Sebastian is on the floor.
“Rhys, stop it, you maniac. You’re going to get arrested.” I grab his arm, looking around at all the phones filming us.
He looks up at me, then down at Sebastian as he stands, sneering.
“Has his cock been inside you?” His eyes narrow, and I hate that my stomach dips.
“Stay away from me.” I drop to my knees to help Sebastian.
“What is wrong with you?” I hiss up at him. A jolt of energy zings through me as it dawns on me that I can see his eyes. His sunglasses must have come off when he attacked Sebastian. For a split second, I swear I see pain. But it’s gone so fast, I might have imagined it.
“Here. Breakfast is on me.” Rhys snorts. Reaching into his pocket to toss a wad of money at us, he takes Paulette’s hand and drags her toward the exit.
“Jesus, Sebastian.” I grab a napkin from the table to dab his bloody lip. “Are you okay?”
He pushes my hand away. “I’m suing that motherfucker. What the hell just happened?” He glares at me, kicking the pile of hundred-dollar bills away in disgust.
“He’s a friend of Axel’s.” As if that should explain why he acted like a lunatic. “I’m so sorry.”
He looks over at the crowd following Rhys. “I’m calling a lawyer. Take pictures, Gia.” He motions for the police who were talking to the manager.
Suddenly I’m forgotten as he switches to rapid French. I assume he’s telling them that Rhys Granger attacked him for no apparent reason.
I sit down in the chair and wait for Sebastian to finish, trying not to think about Rhys, his smell, and the past. Rhys Granger was a fantasy. He’s clearly not stable. The drugs and booze have caught up to him. Another cliché fallen rock star, only he’s far from fallen. If anything, he’s at the top of his career.
Rock God… that’s what they call him.
But to me, he’ll always be the one who makes all the girls cry.
RHYS
Past – Seventeen years old
Burbank, California
“Dude, hurry the fuck up.” I glance over at Nuke. He stands, twirling his drumsticks completely interrupting me and Stephanie.
“Give me five more minutes.” I’m a dick, but Nuke’s an asshole. Can’t he see I’m dealing with shit? It’s pretty obvious that she’s hysterical. I can’t even understand her.
“Steph, it’s gonna be okay,” I say half-heartedly because there’s no silver lining here.
We’re fucked.
Stephanie lives down the street. I wouldn’t call her my girlfriend since I don’t believe in labels. But she’s someone I fuck and apparently got pregnant.
“How? How is it ever going to be okay?” She pulls back to look up at me. Her eyes are bloodshot and puffy, and her hair looks as if she forgot to brush it. She’s always so perfect; it’s kind of jarring seeing her like this. I sigh. My head pounds. I glance to where Nuke was standing. Thankfully he’s gone.
“Just… everything will be fine tomorrow.” God, I really am a dick, but what else can I say?
“Stop it!” She jerks away, which is fine. I’m not one for physical affection unless I’m getting off.
“God, what am I going to do?” She stares, almost dazed, at my mom’s latest boyfriend’s truck.
I stay silent. We’ve been through this. Neither one of us is parent material. I’m seventeen, don’t want a kid, and neither does she. So, her incessant talking about what we’re gonna do has to be her anxiety about getting it done.
“It’s gonna be over tomorrow, and we can pretend it never happened,” I say again, reaching into my pocket to light a cigarette. Her eyes grow huge as she waves a hand in front of her face.
“Oh my God, you can’t smoke in front of me. I’m pregnant.”
“Jesus, Steph, what is wrong with you? We’re not keeping it, so stop.” I’m losing patience. This has been a fucking nightmare, and the way she’s looking at me makes sweat trickle down my back.
“We’re still on board with tomorrow, right?” I’m not being mean, but I’m definitely not being nice. We both agreed on this. “Right?”
She jumps at my harsh tone, then covers her face and silently weeps. Christ, I’m completely out of my league. I hate women crying.
“Look.” I glance around my backyard, which is mostly concrete. Good thing since we can’t afford a gardener. “You said you were on the pill. I’m gonna be really honest, Stephanie. I can’t be a dad—”
“This is not my fault.” She drops her hands and screams, causing the next-door neighbor’s dog to bark.
“Shh. Jesus, Stephanie, be quiet. I gave you all my money, and your mom is taking you. It’s done.”
Why am I trying to reason with her? This is her fault. I mean, yeah, I should have listened to everyone and wrapped it up, but she promised she was on the pill.
“I need you to go with me.” She hiccups and looks up at me.
Tomorrow is school—not that I can’t forge a note—but her mom is taking her. I already feel like shit. And she wants me to sit there and be like what… a boyfriend?
I stare down and take a long, hard look at her. I don’t know if I ever really have. She’s not hot, but she’s cute with short brown hair. I’ve known her for years, and yet I couldn’t tell you what her favorite color is.
This is a horror show. I just want it fucking over and done. I take a deep inhale and toss the cigarette onto the concrete as I try to think. As soon as she said she was late, I knew, and it’s messed with my head. It also doesn’t help that my friends seem to think it’s not a big deal.
She tries to wrap her cold hands around my neck, almost startling me. She tilts her head back.
What the fuck? One second she’s screaming, the next she wants me to kiss her? This is over, has been for a while.