I turn my head toward him. “What?”
“Really? Maybe tone it down a little?” he asks. “Every fan we lose is one we won’t get back. You know that.”
“I’d rather not have any fans at all than one like her,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Fine. Whatever. Don’t direct your anger at me. I’m not your fucking problem, okay?” he says, sighing. “Now, can we finally get back to practice?”
My mind still reels from the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I tell myself I don’t care, but I do. Popularity. I used to dream about it, but now I wish it away. Every fan I’ve gained is one more person I can’t ever trust. Because all they care about is getting an inch of that fame.
I’m merely a tool for them. A way to get to the top.
A kiss with me is nothing but an exchange.
This is why I don’t get close. Why I don’t let anyone get close.
I sigh out loud and hop back onto the stage, brushing it off again, even though it happens time and time again. I pick up my guitar, checking for any damage, but luckily, it’s unscathed. No thanks to me. I should really stop taking out my frustrations on this beauty. She’s the only thing keeping me from quitting … and the only thing that has never failed me.
“Ready?” Tristan asks as he sits down behind his drums, casually throwing his sticks.
I adjust the mic and play some strings before nodding.
We play our best song together because it’s the easiest one to do with just two of us here. Michael and Benjamin don’t mind if we practice without them. We’ll need the extra playtime for the big show coming up next week. We’ll be playing on a stage for a few thousand people, which is a huge deal for us. It could be our big break, and everything we’ve worked so hard for. The one way trip to true stardom.
But as we play our tune to the beat, I suddenly spot the girl from my class. Monica.
And she’s looking straight at me with those same eyes as before, those eyes that beg me to unravel the secrets layered behind.
Eyes that drive me mad.
For me, she stopped walking. For me, she paused her daily life.
Just to take a peek.
And it makes me want to show off.
So I smash the strings of my guitar and sing even louder, our eyes connected like the music tethers us together. It’s bold, but I want her attention. I don’t know why, but I’ll do anything for it. Anything to keep her from looking away.
And she knows. She bites her lip, clutches her bag ever closer, tiptoes around on her feet like she doesn’t know whether to stay or to run.
She’s indecisive … And she hates it.
Her eyes are on fire as she glares at the target of her rage. Me. An indescribable, unmistakable connection forged between us by that simple look that could destroy anything in its path.
And she fucking hates that it’s there.
I know the feeling too damn well.
All my disappointment in myself staring straight back at me.
It’s like looking into a mirror and not liking the person you see.
And for some reason, I can’t stop wanting to show her just how good I can be, because the more I do, the more she’ll hate me. And I need her to fucking hate me. Because it’s the only thing keeping me from destroying her.
Every note that slithers from my lips is one creeping into her ear like a whisper in the night. Her body leans toward me as though she can feel my tongue drawing a line through each of her crevices. And when her eyes close, I can almost hear her gasp.
The song rises to its peak, and so does my energy as I’m swept away in the magic that is her and me. And even though there are no fans watching this performance, I play like my life depends on it. I sing my fucking guts out until I’m left without breath. I torture myself … and her … just to feel alive.
Her body sways, and her lips part. It’s an invitation, one the devil inside me would gladly accept. It’s tempting … and easy. Too easy.
Her foot scoots a little closer to the door. Just an inch. But I saw.
And it’s enough to make me stop dead in my tracks, mid-song.
My penetrative stare makes her stop. Her body stiffens. Her mouth shuts again, and her lips are thin slits, just like her eyes.
Then she walks off.
Just like that.
And I’m left with the inexplicable need to scream.
Was it that easy to break the spell? Or did I force her to?
One simple, forceful gaze. That’s all it took to make her run for the hills.
One foot. One simple forward-inching foot. That’s all it took to make me want to storm off stage and drag her back inside.
Into the dragon’s den.
I lick my bottom lip.
She wouldn’t survive a day.
Chapter 8
Monica
My feet are walking, but it feels as though something is carrying me through the hallways.
My mind isn’t present even though I’m storming out like I’ve made up my mind.
Something about the way he looked at me made me do a U-turn.
He was playing that way, so seductively, with his eyes boring into mine, to get a reaction out of me. Not just to practice with his band, but to show off. To show me what I’m missing out on.
And for some reason, it captured my attention, made me stop when normally I never would.
Something about that guy forces me to see him.
Eye contact with him was all that was needed to stop me in my tracks. The mere sound of his voice blaring through the microphone called me like a siren luring me in. His eyes were blazing, lips talking dirt like he was whispering them straight into my ears.
And even though we were both fully clothed and not even in touching range, it felt like filthy, raunchy sex.
My body instinctively inched closer.
And then he shut me off.
Just like that, he broke the connection we had with a fiery rage unlike anything I’d ever seen before, and it made me finally come to my senses. I swear if I hadn’t left right then and there, he would’ve stormed off stage to force me out.
But my heartbeat is still going crazy fast as I run out of the building and into the open air. The wind hits me hard, and I take a few seconds to catch my breath. The hot sun burns on my skin as I stare up at the sky, wondering what the hell I’m doing.
I shouldn’t get distracted by a boy like him.
He’s all trouble and nothing good.
Still, I can’t stop seeing his face in front of me, his eyes penetrating my soul.
Shake it off, Monica. He’s only doing it to taunt you. Don’t let him get to you.
“Hey, Monica!”
My eyes burst open. It’s Mel. She beckons me to come over to where she’s sitting on a blanket in the grass with a couple of friends I haven’t met yet. “Sit down with us.”
Smiling, I approach the group as Mel introduces me to them.
“This is Monica. We have a few classes together.”
“Hi,” I say to everyone.
“Sit, sit,” Mel pats the blanket. “Don’t be shy. Tell them about yourself.”
“Yeah, Monica,” one of the girls says. “It’s nice to meet you.” She holds out her hand and we shake. “I’m Becky.”
“Hi, Becky. I’m the new girl,” I say, laughing awkwardly.