Everything I Need (8 page)

Once I’m on the top landing, I feel her small hands take hold of the handle of her suitcase. She yanks hard, taking a step back in doing so.
My feisty little thing.
I let go and nod in the direction of her room. Before she can even make her way for it, I block her. She’s just standing there, staring up at me dead in the eyes. Her breathing has become heavier now and of course, her tits are moving with every breath she takes.
Fuck.
I’m going to have to jack off before I can even start recording later.

I clench my teeth together to suppress my hard on. She says nothing but maneuvers her way around me and goes straight for her room, slamming the door as soon as she walks in. As if that would fucking stop me. If I wanted in there that bad, I would break the door down. I cackle to myself at her actions, though. Knowing that she slammed the door means I had some affect on her again.

Fucking foreplay.
This is what we’re doing now. Just like the last time. But there’s no way in hell I’m going back to that place. I treated her like shit when I should’ve treated her like the fucking queen she is to begin with. I’m not making that fucking mistake again. She told me when hell freezes over, hey? Well, my girl, Lucifer better get a fucking jacket because hell will definitely be hitting below zero before the week is up.

Grinning, I make my way to my room . . . which, by the way, is right next to hers.

Chapter Seven

Sophia

“What the fuck?” I mumble to myself as I lean against the door. That little spat out there already has taken about all my energy. Tristan has that effect on me; how he pulls me right in with just a couple of cocky words, leaving me breathless. Just knowing he’s on the other side . . .

Trying to calm myself down, I take a quick scan of the room I’ll be staying in while we’re out here recording. First thing I notice is the fucking view.
Holy shit.
Letting go of the handle to my suitcase, I walk over to the glass French doors overlooking the ocean. I twist the handles open and the ocean air instantly pours into my room, invading it with its salty scent and the scent of all of the tropical flowers and trees Lux has on his grounds. This place is absolutely breathtaking.
How am I supposed to get any work done?
It would’ve been easier for us to record back in LA.

We’re kind of on a small cliff overlooking the ocean and when I look down, I can see that he has a pool and Jacuzzi. Not some standard kind, either. This place is like the fucking blue lagoon. Everything down there by the pool area is made of rocks and plush shrubs. It even has a mini waterfall cascading down into the pool.

I notice that it’s really humid here and I think I should change into something that’s more comfortable before heading down to meet up with the guys. Turning around, I take in the room. It’s painted in this soft cream color with golds and burgundies coloring the throw pillows and comforter that are on the bed. The bed is positioned kitty corner to the room, giving me this perfect view to wake up to every morning.

Next to the bed are these dark maple end tables, and even the headboard is made up of the heavy wood- very rich looking but somehow it goes with the feel of the island. I also notice that off to the right is my own bathroom.
Thank God!
I would not want to share with the rest of the guys. It’s one thing when they’re my boys, but I hardly know these guys.
Besides Tristan.
Oh God! I hate that my mind speaks to me sometimes. Like I really needed to think of that.

Picking up my suitcase and placing it on the bed, I lazily unzip it. Once I pull open the top flap, my eyes go huge.
Fucking Frankie!
I’m going to kill him! I knew I should’ve just packed my own shit. Why was I so naive when Frankie said he would help me out? Looking down, all I see are the teeniest little shorts, and a few dresses that look like a Hawaiian version of my stage clothes. That motherfucker! Hurrying up, I start to panic, tossing one piece of clothing after another on the side of the bed and hoping to God that something less revealing is in here somewhere.
He had to pack a couple decent items.

After everything in my suitcase is now lying all over the bed, I come to realize that Frankie got the last laugh. I can just see his full, injected lips grinning at me right now. Okay, think. There has to be something I can put together right now. And later, when I have time, maybe go somewhere to buy some t-shirts. Oh my bad, there are t-shirts here. For like a fucking five year old! I don’t mind showing a little belly, but I have no idea how I’m supposed to pull these damn things over my breasts.

Once my panic attack subsides, I find one piece that I do like. . It’s a sheer white button-down made of very soft and light fabric. Rubbing the fabric between my thumb and fingers, I get a wicked idea. Smiling devilishly to myself, I have no idea where the fuck this is coming from. Okay, Frankie. You wanted me to bring Tristan to his knees . . . well after that shit stunt he pulled downstairs, I think I might just have to do that.

Picking up a couple more items, I prance my way right into the bathroom. I know I shouldn’t be doing this . . . you know, fighting fire with fire. But damn it! Something about Tristan makes me feel like I have the power to do anything and everything. I’m not going to lie; I want him to have a hard on so fucking bad that it physically hurts him. Yeah, I know I’m crazy, but he did hurt me before, so I kind of want to see him suffer.

Before stepping into the shower, I twist my hair up. This shower is ridiculous. After shutting the glass door behind me, I notice that it has multiple showerheads all over the marble tiled walls, each one angled differently, and it even has benches. Fucking benches, for fuck’s sake! I could just take a seat and it would be like a sauna.

Squirting some body wash into my hand, I rub my hands together and start washing the sweat and travel dirt off of me. In no time, the whole bathroom fills up with steam and the scent of passion fruit and vanilla orchid. I shower quickly though, not wanting to keep anyone waiting on me. I know we have a lot of work to do this week.

When I’m done dressing, I walk over to the full-length mirror that’s in the opposite corner of the room from my bed. Standing in front of it, my face cracks into this mischievous smile I still have on now. I’m wearing the soft white button-down top that feels like I have practically nothing on because the material is so light. I rolled up the sleeves and pushed them up to my elbows and I’m wearing a sexy black bra underneath, which you can clearly see. I undid a couple of the top and bottom buttons, too. I also have on these snug little jean shorts that if I were to bend over, you definitely would be seeing cheekage.

I decided to keep my hair still twisted up in its clip, but a few strands ended up escaping. My face is clean and I want to keep it that way; the only exception is a little light pink tinted lip gloss that I just dabbed on. Turning around once more, I think I’m ready to go down. Yes, I kind of feel uncomfortable being around the other guys like this, but this is strictly to shut Tristan up. I can’t fucking wait to get down there. A small cackle escapes my throat before I turn to leave.

I pull out my phone and take a quick picture of me standing in front of the mirror, flipping off with my other hand when I do. After I’m done with the picture, I quickly text Frankie and send the picture with it, shaking my head and grinning as I type.

YOU BITCH! xoxo

Frankie immediately replies back and before I leave my room, I have to check out what he had to say for himself.

LMFAO!!! Girl, you’re so HOT!!! I wish I could be a firefly on the wall ;)

A giggle escapes my throat. If he wasn’t so cute, I would so punch him in the face for doing this shit to me. Sliding my phone in what back pocket I have, I take off in search of this studio Lux has here.

Taking my time when I go down the stairs, I do another scan of the vast room below me. The first floor is entirely open with these large glass walls across the entire back of the house that disappear right into thin slabs of marble that are spaced out every twenty feet. You can easily step right outside to the pool, or more like, the tropical lagoon is part of your very own living room.

Someone must have already taken it upon themselves to open them up, because like my room, you get the fragrance of the ocean and the lush surroundings as you enter the bottom level. This place is so freaking sweet! When I make a little more cash, I may want something like this. Frankie would just die.

Walking through the kitchen, because I have no fucking clue as to where I’m going, I notice Gunner sitting on a stool. Walking around the large granite island top, I scope out what he’s doing. Looking down at his hands, he’s busy at rolling a joint . . . well actually, it looks more like a blunt. I love how he has his long hair braided now, with his faded green hat on backwards.

Gunner. Not only are his facial features stunning for a dude, his teeth are as white as a fucking toothpaste model. He’s built decently, too. His arms are huge and every inch is covered in tattoos. I never really got a good look at his arms before, but since we’re here on this beautiful island, he’s actually walking around with no shirt on. I can get used to this. If all these guys decided to have this dress code, that would be fine by me.

After I clear my throat, he looks up lazily at me and again, flashes his pearly whites.

“Hey,” he says to me before giving me the up and down. I’m assuming he is checking out my wardrobe. Okay, maybe my plan to make Tristan suffer is a little bit foolish, but I brush off Gunner’s sudden stare and go on.

“So what are we doing today, exactly?” I motion with my hand around this impressive kitchen and smile back at him. He shakes his head a little like he’s clearing it, and brings the blunt up to his mouth, sealing it up with his tongue. When he’s done, he places it back down on the island and leans into the backrest of the stool, his arms hanging limply at his sides, then shrugs.

“Caleb is in there right now trying to lay down some with Gage. I’m gonna enjoy this shit right here.” He points at his blunt then looks back up at me again. “After I’m done with that, I plan on going in and doing the same. Today is pretty much fuck around with sound and see what works. I think you and Tristan will have to go into the booth too to lay down a couple different styles so we can see what fits.”

His eyes light up once he mentions Tristan’s name. Oh, great! Nodding back to him, I start to hear guitar playing; well, ‘shredding’ would be the correct term, actually, off in the distance.

Giving Gunner one last smile while he lights up, I have my ears lead the way to where the sound is coming from. It’s this door on the opposite end of the open bottom floor and when I approach it I hear the music stop, then yelling.

“Shit! Fuck! Asshole! Bitch!”

Whoa.
Caleb is pissed, so I slowly open the door and peek my head in. He’s sitting down next to our producer, Gage, at the boards, swearing at his guitar. He starts back up again and I close the door behind me. This room is darker but the wood used on the walls has more of a red hue to it. No windows in this room either, but it has low track lighting. A booth is positioned off to the right, and there are brown leather couches laid on each wall opposite the only door. Gage’s station is smack dab in the center, with room mics located throughout entire room. Not the traditional studio feel, which by the way, is so cool.

Taking a seat on one of the couches, I watch Caleb’s hand work up and down the neck of the guitar. I used to watch Cory play for hours, wondering how in the hell his fingers weren’t bleeding, and how it looked so natural for him. I tried to learn before and I just couldn’t do it.

I smile at the memory. Cory would be sitting beside me at his and Roger’s old apartment with a beer in one hand and the other trying to point out where to place my fingers. I would get so frustrated and Roger would be in the background laughing at me the whole time.
Fucker.
Cory never did, though. He said it takes time, and that he used to sound like shit when he was younger but loved doing it so much, he just didn’t care. Eventually, he had gotten good.

Caleb goes off again, pulling me away from reminiscing about my Cory.

“This little cocksucking bitch!” He stands and pretends to beat the guitar over the controls, laughing in the kind of way as if someone was about to go mad. Caleb’s huge and straight up all tattoos and piercings everywhere, so when you hear him laughing like that, it’s kind of freaky but damn hilarious, too. I can’t help but laugh at him. He stops what he’s doing and looks up at me, smiling even wider now.

“What?” he asks, but I shake my head.

“Nothing.”

My laughter is slowly going down now to a chuckle. Shaking his head, he looks back to the guitar in his hands.

“Fuck, Gage. Let’s try it again.”

He sits back down and starts focusing on the strings, but not with his eyes; his ears, gently stroking a few chords at first before going heavy into it again. I admire that about him. I would’ve smashed the damn thing and walked away, but Caleb is all in it.

Watching him for a while, I notice sometimes he’ll stop and do the same notes on different parts of the neck, going either higher or lower until he finds one spot that actually sounds better. I love how he knows to take his time and do it over and over again. Sure, he swears like a son-of-a-bitch, but he’s getting it done.

Some time goes by before Gunner and Dave walk in. I’m starting to feel a little anxious as to when Tristan will be coming. Gunner lazily strides over to his drums, which are partially set up. They’re off in the far left corner of the room, opposite the booth with some mics surrounding the set. He pulls out a little tool from his back pocket and bends over, starting to set it up. Dave pulls out his guitar now and pulls up a wheelie chair to Caleb and watches. Ryan must be with Tristan because I haven’t seen him around since we arrived.

I’m feeling a little anxious sitting here doing nothing. I should’ve hit that joint a few times. Well, since they clearly don’t need me yet and before I really start going over the material again, I should let Benny know that I landed safely.

Standing up really carefully so my ass cheeks aren’t completely out . . . okay, I may be exaggerating a little, but still, these shorts are fucking tiny, I head for the door to find a quiet place to check in. The other guys didn’t even notice me leaving; they’re all into their own thing right now. When it’s time to get ready to jam, they’re more than one hundred percent focused.

Right before I reach the door, it swings opens, almost hitting me right in the face. I take a reflexive step back. Placing my hand over my heart, like I have just seen a ghost, I catch my breath real quick. My eyes slowly start to travel up Tristan’s chest, which looks like it’s straining against the material of his shirt. When my eyes finally reach his, I know my naughty plan to make him suffer is starting to work. Holding back my smirk, I notice Tristan’s eyes devouring me. His mouth is slightly open but he recovers himself quickly.