Everything I Need (22 page)

When we reach Frankie’s car, he’s leaning against his door, smirking at us.

“That’s nice . . .” he says with an extra lisp. Tristan ignores him and opens the door for me, pausing for a moment when he does. I place my hand on his back to reassure him.

“That’s cool, Tristan. Obviously you need the front seat,” I laugh at him as he grins back at me.

He bends over and flips the switch to move the seat up as far forward as it can possibly go. Quirking my eyebrow up at him, I just stand back and watch what he’s doing. When he’s done, he faces me again, taking my hand and leading me to the seat.

“I’ll be fine, my girl. Take it.”

He leans into me and I feel the warmth of him against my skin, sending shivers right through my body. His rough facial hair tickles my cheek as he whispers,

“Besides, he’s
your
friend. You can sit by him.”

“I heard that, bitch!”

Frankie leans over the passenger side, trying to put on a scowl but failing miserably. Giving him a quick peck on his check, I duck into the car.

“Shit!” I hiss, my knees banging against the dashboard.

Frankie chuckles as Tristan tries to get comfortable in the back. He ends up positioning himself sideways so he can fit better. Mmm . . . I love that he is all fucking man, and all mine.

The whole drive home, I keep my eyes closed, leaning back against the seat. Tristan’s earthy, manly scent fills up Frankie’s car. I still can’t fucking believe it. Tristan’s coming back home . . . with me. Feeling a light nudge on my knee, I open my eyes, peeking over at Frankie, whose lips are puckered out as if he wants to say something, but his eyes are still on the road.

I arch my brow, wondering why he did that. Glancing over my shoulder,  I see Tristan has his left arm resting on the back seat, stretching out his chest. I twist my neck a little more and he catches me checking him out. His mouth slowly curls up on one side.

“What? Didn’t get your fill?”

My eyes pop open at Tristan’s bold words. Frankie is snorting like a pig beside me now. Rolling my eyes at him, I face the front again. Tristan’s deep cackle behind me sends the butterflies to trip out in my belly again.

Frankie’s eyes are dancing as he pulls his bottom lip into his mouth. Giving him a quick smile back, I go back to looking at the road.

Frankie breaks the silence again.

“This tour is going to be crazy, huh? It’s not just the set up and of course . . .” he lays his hand on his chest, batting his eyelashes, “the kickass wardrobe I have designed,” he winks over at me. “But, this will be your first time over in Europe!”

Yeah, that will be pretty cool. I can’t believe it’s almost that time again. These next two weeks are going to be crazy with getting everything ready and our very first, real, press conference. We’re going to want to talk about the second album, but now that I think about it, now that Tristan and I are not hiding our relationship anymore, the press will probably be talking about that more than the actual music. Great . . .. Whatever, though.

“You actually have your first fitting tomorrow,” Frankie says, pulling me back from my thoughts as he turns down my road. “Just swing by my place around two-ish.”

“Okay,” I smile over at him as he turns into my driveway. “Thanks for the ride, Frankie.”

I lean over and peck him on the cheek real quick before opening my door. Tristan moves slowly, trying to pull himself out of the back seat. Frankie turns around, chuckling at him.

“Jesus!” he laughs at the sight of Tristan  trying to climb out. Laughing at it myself, I wave to Frankie one last time before making my way up to my front door.

“Buh-bye, Tristy!” Frankie shouts out his window.

Without turning around, Tristan sticks his hand out to the side and flips Frankie off as he starts taking the steps.

“What’s so funny?” he asks.

“Nothing . . . well, maybe it’s the Tristy thing, a little.” I indicate a small space with my finger and thumb.

“Come here.”

He grabs my waist with both hands and I fall into him. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I push up on my toes. Tristan gives light kisses around my mouth before laying a soft kiss on my lips. Kissing him back, I wrap my arms around him tighter.

“Mmm . . .” I moan into his mouth.

During our kiss, I feel his lips break away as he begins to smile. Fluttering my eyes open, I see Tristan shaking his head.

“Let’s get in.” He nods at the door.

“Yeah. Okay,” I mumble back, fumbling with the keys. He brings his hand over mine to steady it. Why am I so fucking nervous all of a sudden?

Stepping through the door, I punch in my alarm code and flip the light switch. The overhead light in the dining area turns on. Taking a couple more steps in, I spin back around, facing Tristan. After he closes the door, he just stands there. Not awkward-looking, but I don’t know.

“So. This is my place.”

Giving him a shy smile, I gesture around the open room with my hands. I can’t believe Tristan is here. Holy shit! Tristan bites the side of his cheek and scans the room, nodding.

“Yeah, I know. I’ve been here before, remember . . .?”

Oh, God, yeah. I totally forgot about that one night. Shit! I stare back at Tristan. He tucks his hands into his back pockets, making those delicious chest muscles of his more prominent.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Tristan’s voice is low and threatening.

“Like what?” I ask, pinching my eyebrows together. He’s wearing a dangerous smirk and his eyes are darkening. My belly flips but my geed is screaming, no! His cock has put my body through the sexual wringer in the last twenty-four hours.

Lifting my hands out defensively in front of me, I shake my head, giggling.

“God, please no!”

Tristan’s head falls back against the door as he starts laughing.

“You ass!” I say to him as I pull myself up on a stool.

Crossing my leg over, I reach down to slip my heel off. The shoe falls to the floor with a small thud. I peer up at Tristan through my lashes. He gives me a quick look before walking over to the kitchen. Straightening up, I watch him open my cabinet and pull out a glass.

“Pretty good with your way around the kitchen, huh?”

He glances over his shoulder before walking over to the fridge.

“I, I mean,” I stutter. “How did you know where I keep my glasses?”

He doesn’t say anything back as the ice maker starts clinking ice into his glass. When he’s done, he pulls it away and stares up at me, holding my gaze.

“Because, I had gotten you something to drink when I brought you home.” He shrugs his shoulders. “You were pretty wasted, so I figured you might’ve wanted something when you got up.”

He goes back to filling his glass with water now. It feels like he just reached inside my chest and squeezed my heart. Even then, he thought of me. I knew he had to have done it, but hearing him say it and just the fact that he was thinking about me . . . shit! It’s the little things like that, which I think make the difference in any relationship. Because, I guess, that’s what we’re starting here.

“Thank you,” I say softly, going back to taking my other heel off. ,

When it falls to the floor, I notice that Tristan is just staring at me with a slightly confused look on his face.

“For what?” he asks.

“For thinking of me . . ..”

“Don’t thank me, Sophia . . ..” He sets his glass down on the counter and leans back on it. “I like taking care of you. I will always take care of you . . ..”

Shit . . .. Getting off the stool, I walk right up to him and wrap my arms around his neck, nestling my cheek to his chest. I have no words to say, but I can show him. Stepping up on my tiptoes, I lay a kiss on his lips.

Tristan suddenly scoops me up and I throw my head back, laughing. I’m so fucking happy and I pray to God this never ends.

“I know you’re probably fucking sore, so tonight, let me just worship your body . . . with my mouth,” he says in a rough voice as he carries me into my room.

************

The last two weeks have been unbelievable. I’m fucking head over heels . . . or should I  . . .say, ankles. Over Tristan. I still keep him at bay, though. I wouldn’t let him crash over every night, even though he wanted to. In the back of my mind, I’m still cautious about us.

He’s so funny, though. After late nights at the studio or photo shoots, he would make me text him to be sure I got home all right. Not pulling in the driveway, either, but in the house with the alarm set. He really doesn’t care for LA. In all honesty, neither do I. I still wish I had my apartment back in Ann Arbor to go home to. Or even my parents’ house. But with work and everything that’s going on right now, it’s just easier staying out here.

I’m driving down the freeway, blaring Butcher Babies’ “Magnolia Blvd” on my way to my band’s very first press conference. We’ve done radio interviews before, but nothing like this. I was gonna ride with Jeff, but I was running behind because Tristan stayed over last night. And, you know . . .

He left when I got in the shower this morning, letting me know that he would catch up with me there. Honestly, I’m kind of glad. I’m not going to lie about our relationship now, but it is easier showing up on my own than on Tristan’s arm.

Pulling my old girl up outside, I glance around before I park. Shit . . .. I’m about to embark on something like no other. I pull my keys out of the ignition and my phone goes off. When I look down I see it’s a text from Roger. They’re already inside, just waiting for me. Okay. Peering up into the mirror, I slide on my sunglasses and run my fingers through my hair one last time.

The press conference is at Lux’s building. We’re using the first floor conference room for it. Swinging the large glass door open, the familiar pretty face of the receptionist greets me with a warm smile. I smile back at her, giving her a quick nod.

Walking down the hall, I see my boys just hanging out talking with Lux while other men and women go in and out of the room. Lux looks over at me and grins.

“Hey! How are you doing?”

The rest of the boys look over and start cracking jokes.

“Lux, you should know how she’s doing, and who,” Roger chimes in, cackling. Dumbass. Lux glances over to him and points. “Aw, just messing, Sophie,” he winks.

“I know. So . . . what’s up?”

Coming to a stop in front of us, Lux passes us these badges.

“I know it’s in our building, but have these on you. You guys will go up first. Undead will be after.” Lux points behind him. “See that door? Use that one. There’s a small hallway and a backroom. How we have it set up is, you guys will walk out and go directly onto the stage we have set up.” He grins at us. “Just a small one. Large enough for the table and chairs, nothing more.”

“Well, I guess Roger will have to wait out back then,” Jared mumbles. Roger bumps his shoulder into Jared’s and laughs, but doesn’t make any stupid remarks back.

“Anyways,” Lux clears his throat, “Almost showtime. Now one last thing I would like to bring up before you head out.”

Lux pauses for a moment before looking my way.

“Sophia, you’re the lead vocalist so they’re going to be talking to you, mostly.” Running his hands down the front of his suit, Lux blows out a breath. “I’m just going to say it. Sophia, your relationship with Tristan, or whatever you have, will probably get brought up.”

“So . . .?” I shrug my shoulders.

I kind of figured it would. They can ask all they want but I’m not going into any detail about my personal life, so they can just kiss my ass. Lux’s eyes widen at my reply.

“So . . .” he repeats the word, thinking about it, almost as if he’s tasting it in his mouth. “So,” he goes again and then he turns to the other guys and grins. “I like her.”

He faces me again.

“You’ll do good, kid.” He pats my shoulder and opens the door for us to go in. “I’ll be right off stage on the floor, just to let you know. Have fun,” he says with a grin before closing the door behind us.

The hallway has dark wood walls and tiled floors with lights built right into the wood paneling, reflecting overhead and on the ceiling. I see the door we’re suppose to go out of coming up on the right.

“Hey, Sophia!” Roger grabs my shoulder, stopping me. The rest of the guys ahead of me stop and look back. “Shit, I don’t really wanna talk to those guys.”

“I know, Roger,” I say, rolling my eyes. “It’s no big deal. You better get used to it sooner than later, though.”

Roger swipes his hands across his head, running them through his ponytail. Aw my, I’ve never seen Roger this nervous before, not even when we started getting bigger gigs. Relaxing my shoulders, I pull him in for a hug. He taps my back once then pulls away.

“Don’t be a pussy, Roger,” Matt chimes in from the back.

“Fuck you, man!”

Matt smiles back.

“Hey, you do a good job in there, I’ll take you Dahlia’s afterwards.”

Roger straightens up.