Gauge: Rockstar Romance (The ProVokaTiv Series Book 1) (7 page)

“I’ll see you later,” Gauge said.  He was still sitting on the bed. I could see his chest moving in and out, his one hand rubbing his head like he was trying to force a thought out.

For the second time, I felt like it took me forever to cross the room.  I didn’t want to walk rushed or anxiously because it would look like I was impacted.  Of course I was, but I wasn’t about to let him know that.  We’d crossed a line together, and now I had to figure out how to make my way back to my safety zone alone.

This time, when I touched the door knob, there was no hand on my shoulder to turn me around.  I walked out of the door and shut it behind me, staring straight ahead.  Only after I was alone in the hallway could I break out into a run.  My room was about twelve doors down. I jogged to it, pulling out my key card so I could enter its safety and lock myself away.

Sitting in my room, trying to read a book to free up my day, I kept drifting off to Gauge and his complete sexiness.  The gratitude, combined with embarrassment and regret, did nothing to settle down my hormones. The little honest bitch that existed in my subconscious kept reminding me that I wouldn’t have stopped if Gauge hadn’t.  She was right, too.

However, morning had come, and it was time to leave Liverpool and go to Barcelona.  I was so excited to go there. More interesting yet, I would turn twenty-three in Barcelona.  Not too many women got to say they were spending their birthday in a beautiful European city with one of the best-looking bands around.  I knew I was lucky, but it was time to play it cool and forget the entire incident from the previous day.

I walked down to the lobby and looked around.  I smelled something amazing from the small café in there, and glanced down at my watch.  Yes.  I had time to get a quick bite to eat and a cup of java. 

The café was a bit outdated and not quite as modern in feel as the rooms were; a work in progress, I supposed.  I sat down, and a waitress with a thick Scottish accent came up to me and tipped the carafe to fill the cup.

“Caffeine?” she said in her hearty brogue.

“Absolutely,” I said.

She went on to say a few of the specials, but I didn’t understand her that well.  I ended up reading them along with her from the board behind the counter of the café.

“Raspberry crepe with a side of scrambled eggs, please.”

“Shouldn’t take long,” she said.  She walked away and I looked around.  I saw Gauge walk by the door to the café and outside.  Shortly thereafter, Hunter walked into the café and glanced around, making a beeline for me.

“How’s it rolling, Brynn?”

“Great.  I’m so excited for Barcelona.  Can’t wait.  Have you ever been there before?”

“We played there once, but didn’t have a lot of cha-ching back then.  Couldn’t see much.  It’s nice to have two days between shows now, in Europe anyway, get to see a bit more.”

“I bet.  It would be hard to go to these amazing cities and not experience a bit of their culture.”

Hunter raised his eyebrow.  “If culture is a code word for hot women, yeah, experience the culture.”

I started laughing.  “You really are insatiable, aren’t you?”

“Only young once.”

“And when you get old?”

“I don’t know; that’s the last thing on my mind.”

Hunter waved his arm. The same waitress came over and he started talking with her.  She turned into a completely different person before my very eyes—transforming into a giggling groupie girl. 

I tuned out of Hunter’s little game of flirt and saw Gauge walk in.  I smiled at him and waved him. To my surprise, he came.

“Good morning,” I said.  I sounded smooth, but I was a bit amped up.

“Morning,” he said.  He was already holding a cup of coffee in his hand.

“Are you going to eat breakfast before we go, too?”

“Maybe. Depends what they have,” he said.

“The specials are over there,” I said, pointing to the board.

Gauge turned to Hunter abruptly.  “Hey man, can you give me a minute?”

Hunter looked between Gauge and me with confusion that quickly converted to a big grin.  “No problem.”

He got up and told the waitress to give him his meal over there.

I looked at Gauge, the reporter in me trying to quickly get an angle on what he was about to say.  He looked at me with a slight smile.

Finally, I broke down.  “Did you want to talk to me about something?”

“No, but Hunter was a bit too much to take this morning.  I start at a little slower pace than all-out.”

“Me too,” I said.  “He’s in constant party mode.  Reminds me of some of the frat guys that I used to run into on campus.”

“Frat guys?”  Gauge repeated with a look of disdain.

“I know, not my thing, but hey…there’s someone for everyone, right?”

“Sure.”

“Are you excited for Barcelona?” I asked.  “Hunter said you’ve been there before.”

“Yeah, seems like forever ago.”

“How long ago was it?” I asked.

“Three years ago, more or less.”  Gauge shifted his body, leaning back as the waitress placed the crepe in front of me.  His knee brushed my leg, which sent a tingle through me.  He quickly pulled his leg away.  “Sorry, small tables.”

“No problem,” I said.

“How about you?”

“Huh?” I blurted.  I had no idea what he meant.

He chuckled.  “In Barcelona.  Any plans?”

“I’d like to go see Montserrat Abbey if it’s not raining.  I heard the drive’s crazy if it rains, not very safe.”

“That’s the place up in the mountains, right?”

“Yeah. You interested in going?”  The words came out effortlessly, and I hoped that they didn’t sound like I was asking him on a date.

Gauge looked at me,
gauging
me.“Sure, maybe.”

“No big deal either way.  Just thought I’d offer.  Especially since you like architecture so much.”

He nodded.

I took a sip of my coffee, staring at him from over the rim of the cup.  His eyes were taking me in, almost analytically, and I had to hide my smile.  After my sip, I asked, “What?”

“You’re hard to figure out.”

“I’ve always thought I was fairly easy to read.  You don’t?”

“Sometimes yes, but other times it seems like you’re holding back.”

“Not too many journalists are served well by yapping, you know.”

“Are you a journalist all the time, Brynn?”

“No,” I said softly.  “Everything has its place.”

“Not to bring it up
again
, but I have one thing on my mind, and I have to ask,” Gauge said.

“Just say it.  I can handle it.”  Here we go.  I couldn’t even imagine what was going to come out of his mouth.

“Is the entire piece going to have that same tone as the review did?”

“They’re two different things; one, a critique that assumes I’ve never met you, and the other, what’s revealed after being around
all
you guys for so long.  I’m not sure if that’s an answer, but that’s the best I got.”

I saw something similar to relief flash across his face and he nodded his head.  “Cool.”  Then he looked down at his watch.  “I’d better go grab my travel bag from my room.  Catch ya later.”

“Yeah, catch ya later,” I repeated.

He paid and walked off, his face revealing nothing.

The trip to Barcelona was a rare treat.  We were flying, and I was elated about it, ready to get to the beautiful city in a matter of hours instead of days.

I sat by Boomer on the flight, laughing the entire time, as he shared stories with me about various bands he’d worked with in the past.  He’d seem some crazy things; I learned about an old time rocker with a phobia of green soap, a funny pre-concert ritual that involved spinning around in a circle four times and yelling, “This is a buck-ass crazy world and I’m here for the ride,” and a rather rebellious female pop icon that used to stash an upper in a little slot under her microphone—just in case.

Before I knew it, the plane was landing at El Prat and we were making the pilgrimage through Customs.  Since part of the crew was on the road with the stage and not expected to arrive for a day yet; this was the day I had to explore Barcelona.  At midnight, I’d be twenty-three.

Within two hours, we were checking into Mandarin Oriental Barcelona, our hotel.  It was unbelievable, by far the most posh hotel I’d ever been in.  When I walked into my room, my jaw dropped.  It was incredible, right down to the rabbit-soft complimentary robe that hung in the bathroom. This hotel was amazing, and I would have felt like I’d lived Barcelona to the fullest if I didn’t even leave it.  I could book out a massage at their spa, get an amazing meal, and lay out by the ultra-swag pool that was on the rooftop, sipping on a fancy drink.

I walked over to the window and opened up the drapes. I had a panoramic view of the city, the perfect way to enjoy its stylish, historical skyline. Old and new buildings mixed. I took them in, enraptured.

My room phone rang. I scrambled for it, startled.

“Hello.”

“I’d like to take you up on that offer to see Montserrat Abbey.”

I smiled at the sound of Gauge’s overly casual, almost aloof voice.   “Great.”

“Why don’t you get ready, and I’ll come get you in an hour.”

“Sure.”

I hung up.  That was odd, and not really like Gauge.  Was it Barcelona or me?  I’ll admit—I hoped it was me. 

Suddenly wanting to look better than I usually did, I put a bit of extra mascara and liner on, trying to find the perfect balance between subtlety and “fuck me.”  I slid on a fun, silky sundress with sapphire-blue swirls and slipped on some strappy sandals. I fiddled with my hair, pulling it up and taking it down, until I gave up and pinned it into a loose bun.

An hour passed by all too quickly.  I opened the door, and Gauge eyed me up and down.  “How do I look?”

“The Abbey will never be the same,” he said.

“Are you teasing me?”

“Not at all.  You ready?”

“Let me grab my clutch and then I’m set to go.”

I turned around and got it.  Gauge stood in the doorway the entire time, not letting the door close completely.  Was he afraid to be in an enclosed room with me?  If he was, that meant he wasn’t sure if he could control himself.  Since I didn’t have any evidence to the contrary, that’s what I chose to believe, and I liked it.

The weather was beautiful and the small, rickety bus that led us up the winding road toward the Abbey was the most uncomfortable thing I’d ever experienced in my life.  My ass hurt from a combination of the spring on the old bus and the bumps.  The only pleasure I derived from the ride was how Gauge had to put his arm around me to keep me from bouncing around so much.  The man had muscles and I was glad to take their assistance. 

Finally, the bus stopped and we got off with the other twenty people who were there to tour the Abbey.  “This is incredible,” I said, completely awestruck.

“I can’t believe how long some of these buildings can remain standing,” Gauge commented. His arm was still around my shoulders, too, which felt good, really good.

“When was this place built?”

“1025,” I said, completely amazed.  It was so elaborate and built in a split in the mountain, for lack of a more eloquent description.

“Montserrat means serrated.”  Someone said this from behind us and we turned around and looked.  It was a sweet elderly lady there with her husband.  They were holding hands and smiling.  It was every bit as lovely as the Abbey itself; strength and longevity.

“Isn’t it sad to think that so many people that used this place as their sanctuary had to die.  They paid quite the price so people like us could see this and appreciate it,” I said.

“Some things are worth dying for.  It’s a sign of conviction, at least I think it is,” Gauge said.

“That’s very insightful,” I said, smiling at him.

After a tour of the Abbey, I walked out, eve more impressed with how they could have gotten the heavy marble and stone supplies up the winding mountain road to build this, if the road was even there.  I turned to Gauge.  “I’ve never seen the Pyramids but Montserrat Abbey seems every bit as hard to build as they may have been.”

“I agree.  Now, it’s time to get back to the hotel.”

I felt disappointment quickly at his words.  “Oh, you have plans?”

“No, not really,” he said.  “Just tired.”

“Oh sure, I understand.”

We got on the bus and made our way back down the winding mountain road and Gauge resumed his position of wrapping his arm around me, keeping me from bouncing about.  I looked down and had to chuckle one time, as I thought my boobs might just jostle themselves out of my bra and dress. 

Then, the bus stopped and we walked the few blocks back to the hotel.

We walked into the lobby and over to the elevator.  After we got in, Gauge pressed the button for the top floor, not our room floor.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“Oh, I thought you might like to see the rooftop view quickly.  It’s pretty interesting.”

“
Interesting
is an interesting word to describe a rooftop that overlooks this beautiful city.  Majestic, grand perhaps, but interesting?”

He laughed and didn’t say another word.  He was certainly in a good mood still, better than usual despite being ready to get rid of me.  I hoped that meant that all was truly forgiven and forgotten about the review.  Another part of me, that part that occasionally grated on my nerves, felt suspicious that he was acting so differently. 
OMG—I hope he doesn’t plan on tossing me off the roof.