Rock My Heart (Luminescent Juliet #4) (14 page)

I practically stumble out of the bathroom into my bedroom,
but stop short in the doorway at the sight of Gabe sitting on my bed.

“Hey,” he says, standing. “I was getting worried you passed
out or something worse in there.”

“Ha,” I reply in a wince because he’s not that far off.
“Um…you staying or something?” I blurt, confused about him in my bedroom.

Almost to me, he stops and runs a hand through his hair.
“Well, I’ve been drinking and... I don’t know. I—I just want to hold you.” He
says the last sentence like it’s being torn from him.

I want to roll my eyes. I’m guessing he feels guilty. Men and
the prized gift of virginity. Yet, even using the door frame to hold myself
up—beyond the wine, I’m guessing stress, and probably sex, has me bone tired—I
somehow realize that showing my irritation would
not
be a good idea. And though the idea of sleeping with him feels
weird, I also find it intriguing. I’ve never slept the whole night with anyone.

“Okay,” I say, and push into the room. Gabe grabs an arm and
helps me to the edge of the bed.

“Got an extra toothbrush?” he asks as I plop down.

I try to think. The image in my head of my bathroom drawer is
empty. I’m not very good at thinking right now. “Just use mine.”

By the time, I realize the bed has been made, tug back the
covers, and somehow stick my feet and legs between the
sheets,
he is back helping me and fluffing pillows behind me.

Oh, for
frickssake
.

I lay back, keeping a calm face. After removing his pants,
Gabe slides under the covers, curling his arms around me, turning me halfway
over, and molding his body to the back of mine. Well what do I know? Nothing.
Because this is not weird. It’s marvelous. It’s cozy. It’s intimate. I like it.

I like it a lot.

I lay there full of tired, buzzed wonderment until a
startling concept has me halfway awake. Maybe I like it so much because it’s Gabe,
the angry drummer I’ve recently become friends with, who I’m starting to
respect and really, really like. And now he’s acting all weird because I was a
virgin. Although the sex was surprisingly wonderful, and I really, really
wouldn’t mind—actually would love —doing it again, I don’t want to lose him as
a friend.

My hands grip the arm around my waist. “Gabe?”

“Hmm?” The sound is a breath on my shoulder.

“I…I don’t want tonight to change anything. I want to stay
friends. Just like we’ve been. Okay?” I ask in heavy whisper.

There are several seconds of silence. Finally, he says,
“Yeah, okay.”

Relieved, I whisper, “Goodnight,” then fall asleep imagining
his arms tightening around me and his face burying into my shoulder.

Chapter 21

~April~

I promised myself that I’d never wear a tiara
again.

Yet here I am, my head sparkling, entering an old theater,
heading toward the bar, next to Marilyn Monroe—Chloe. Heads turn. Lots of male
heads. More for Marilyn, but several check out Audrey Hepburn—me—too.

The venue for the Halloween bash is near Detroit, almost two
hours south of where we all live. It’s a big venue. A venue that Luminescent
Juliet has played for the last two years, which is why Shush got the job,
basically from Romeo’s recommendation. In the mist of cutting another album and
working out a record deal, Luminescent Juliet passed on playing the usual gig,
but every member is here to see Shush, and we’re all staying in a hotel less
than a mile away.

I’m sharing a room with Chloe, Riley’s best friend. I would
have preferred my own room—nothing against Chloe, I’m just used to being
alone—but she needed someone to split the bill with since Riley is staying with
a band member. Of course, she brought costumes—Riley told her to. And of
course, in the midst of all my drama, I forgot to bring my own.

I’m dressed as Holly Golightly from
Breakfast at
Tiffany’s
. Tight black dress,
pearls around my neck, long black gloves, and hair in a ridiculous bouffant
twisted into a bun topped with, yes, a tiara. Chloe’s choice, definitely not
mine. Much, much too attention getting.

Chloe winks at a guy gaping at her chest as we pass.

Well, at least not
that
attention getting.

Everyone else is here already. According to Chloe and her
text from Peyton, they’re about halfway into the crowd on the left. The section
roped off near the stage isn’t big enough to fit all of us. Once we get our
drinks—gin and tonic for Chloe and a Sprite for me—we head off into the crowd.

Loud conversation, the Door’s “People are Strange,” and an
excited buzz fills the room as I follow Marilyn. But the noise stays faintly in
the background because
I’m
filled
with a nervous buzz. I haven’t seen Gabe since the night we slept together.
When I woke yesterday morning, he was gone, leaving a quickly jotted note on my
counter.
Had to get to work. Still owe
you a real dinner. Your friend, Gabe.
The ‘your friend’ had bothered me to
the point it turned into a conundrum. Had he wrote it to indulge me? Or was it
meant sarcastically? After agonizing over it for most of the day, I texted him
that evening with,
Everything’s
okay, right?
About half an hour later,
he texted back a mere,
Yeah, everything
is fine
, which did little to ease my apprehension. I’m totally oblivious
about how to act after…well, sex with a friend. Now, with my stomach in knots,
I’m heading toward him.

We step onto the main floor, then head to the left, squeezing
between people as Chloe flashes them a sultry smile and pushed up cleavage
encased in a white flowy dress.

Allie, dressed as a pirate, is the first to spot us. She
waves frantically. Next to her, Justin is also dressed as a pirate. Peyton and
Sam are dressed up as Princess Leia and Han Solo. And at the back of their
group, leaning on the rail between the sections, are Romeo and Gabe, both in
their normal attire, jeans, boots, and open button ups over plain T-shirts.
Well, Romeo is wearing a bandana pirate style on his head, along with bigger
silver hops in his ears than he normally wears. His form of dressing up for
Riley. Both holding beers, they’re in the midst of a conversation as Chloe and
I join the group. The whistles and cheers from everyone as we get to the group
brings Gabe’s gaze in our direction.
 

His eyes widen on me, but Allie wraps me in a hug. “You look
amazing!” she yells in my ear.

“Thanks!” I yell back, trying very, very hard not to glance
Gabe’s way, wondering—hoping like an idiot—if he’s staring. “You look awesome
too!” And she does in a leather bustier that shows off the blue swirling tattoo
that winds around most of her left arm.

Blonde Princess Leia—Peyton—clinks her plastic cup with mine,
but before she says anything, a ripple of noise trickles through the crowd. It
sounds like a mix of awe and excitement.

We all turn toward the stage as the sound grows.

The members of Shush are taking the stage. Except for the
singer who wears a long white ragged dress, they’re all dressed in torn black
clothes from tights to tattered up tank tops. Their faces are pale, while their
eyes are hollowed with black make up, giving them all a ghoulish appearance.
I’m guessing they’re supposed to be zombies until Riley hits the cymbal and the
guitar player breaks into the opening riff. It takes me a few moments to
recognize Rob Zombie’s “Living Dead Girl.” The crowd goes wilder when the
singer hits the refrain, understanding the costumes. The song isn’t super heavy
on drums, so Riley adds several stick twirls.

Though caught in the band’s performance and the crowd’s
enthusiasm, Gabe’s presence behind us won’t let me release the edge of
apprehension, especially as Shush rolls through the same set they did at the
bar and U-
Palooza
. The familiarity of it has my brain
wandering to the man behind me.

I’m being an idiot. He said everything was okay. Yet it
doesn’t seem okay. In between songs, I talk with the girls around me, while
Gabe stays in the back, three people over. It’s like he’s ignoring me. Or I’m
ignoring him. I feel middle
schoolish
. I want to
strangle myself with the pearls around my neck. But even logic can’t keep my
nerves at bay.

Shush close out their set with “Crush” by Garbage, which is
another song that is a perfect fit for the night. Especially the line,
I would die for you
. Since the beat is a
touch slower than most of their other choices, the band stays with Riley for
the entire song too. And the singer’s tendency toward strong and loud vocals
works perfectly with the song.

The crowd goes crazy when they finish and say good night.
Whistles, claps, and shouts for
more
go on for several minutes. Fortunately for Shush—they probably don’t have
anything else ready to play—there are two more bands scheduled for the night,
and a bunch of stagehands come out immediately and start changing over the stage.
The Pixies “Where is My Mind” comes over the loud speaker and people start
moving toward the bar and bathroom.

“Need another?” Justin asks loudly, lifting his empty beer.

I shake my head. “I’m good.”

Everyone but Gabe, Romeo, and I head for the bar at the back
of the theater.

Romeo grins at me. “How’d Chloe get you to wear that?”

I can’t help a frown. “Remember? Riley practically begged I
dress up.”

He gestures to his head. “Me too.”

“Yeah, well I forgot to bring something simple, and Chloe
brought several costumes. This”—I sweep a hand down—“was the least revealing.”

“Then,” Gabe says in a cool tone. “I’d like to see what else
she brought.”

Romeo looks between us as my eyebrows rise. I ignore him,
watching Gabe take a sip of his beer, his top lip over the plastic rim, and
suddenly I’m remembering every kiss and touch from two nights ago. Quick
flashes—his lips dragging over my skin, a moan in my ear, him above me—blink in
my head, turn the nerves in my stomach to those bizarre fluttering butterflies.
Ignoring my reaction to him, I lightly say, “Feel free to check out our
closet.”

His eyes narrow and though he doesn’t say it, I read his
mind.
I want to check them out on you.
He forces a smile. “Something I could wear then?”

The forced smile hits me hard. Everything is not okay. I can
sense it. Tension hangs in the air between us, even dims the lustful memoires
hanging at the back of my mind. “Um…” I stall, wanting to ask him what is
wrong, why he looks on the edge of angry, and what I did to get this frost that
seems to shoot out at me.

Romeo clears his throat, but before he can make a comment,
which I’m sure would be totally asinine, Riley appears, jumping on him in a
leggy embracing tackle.

Both Gabe and I look away as they hotly kiss.

Seconds later, everyone returns, including the rest of Shush.
I stay on the perimeter amid the congratulations and cheering. In between the
cheering, Riley comes over and twirls me around, exclaiming that Chloe out did
herself. Chloe beams. But there isn’t time for much else because people from
the crowd come over, recognizing the opening band and wanting to get in on
their tiny slice of fame for the night until the next band comes out.

When the next band does come out, everyone’s back to hip
rocking, head bouncing, and arm swaying concert going robots. The band is loud,
fast, and on the edge of heavy metal. They also border on sucking, but the
half-drunk, wild crowd loves them.

Of course, the singer of Shush is all over Gabe again, but
now the bassist is hanging on his other side. At each smile, each hip rub, each
touch, I see out of the corner of my eye, I want to rip the women away from
him. A dark, angry coil of jealously wraps around me. My gloved hand nearly
crushes the empty plastic cup in my grasp. I shouldn’t feel this way. I have no
right to feel this way, but as Riley, Allie, and Peyton sway with
their
boyfriends, I’m suddenly jealous of practically
everyone surrounding me.

The poorly played music and shouting singer grate on my ears.
The flashing lights are irritating. The Shush guitarist swaying closer and
closer to me—after he hit on Chloe, who likes to flirt but is quite committed
to her boyfriend—has my skin crawling. In a rush to get away from
everything—mostly my ugly jealousy—I whip around and start pushing through the
crowd. Since the music is also too loud at the back of the theater, I go into
the lobby.

Standing to the side amid empty plastic cups on the floor, I
simply draw in deep breaths for several minutes. The taut line of my body
finally loosens and the pounding jealousy reduces, but lingers. When I try to
get myself to go back in the theater, my feet refuse to move. The thought of
seeing Gabe with those women brings on an anger and dejection that borders on
overwhelming.

I’m turning into a complete mess. Nothing is making sense.
Gabe and I are supposed to be friends but it seems in the blink of an orgasm
our friendship has changed, and even
I
can’t
handle my emotions.

I turn toward the entrance. I wanted to leave early. Guess
I’m leaving extra early.

At the coat check, I’m digging out the ticket from inside my
left glove as Gabe comes up to me.

“What the hell? You leaving?” The question comes out from a
sneer.

I concentrate hard on appearing unruffled. Plucking out the ticket,
I shrug. “It’s late. I’m tired. I really only came to see Riley’s band.”

He crosses his arms. “Thought we all came to see the band
and
hang out.”

I hand the ticket over the table to the attendant watching
us. “I’m not much for hanging out.” It comes out snottier than I intended,
given that I wanted to say hanging on people.

“Too good for us?” he sneers again.

My brows lower. I’d like to wipe that sneer off his face.
“You still going there? Grow up,” I huff.

The guy across the counter holds my ticket, watching us.

Face stern, Gabe gestures to my head. “Can see why you choose
that outfit, Princess.”

“You forgot ice,” I say through clenched teeth.

“I sure fucking did,” he says, his lips curling into a snarl.

“Why are you being such a jerk?” I snap.

His entire face becomes a sneer. “Maybe because you’re being
a cold ass, uppity bitch.”

My mouth drops open, closes, and opens again. Tears threaten
the corner of my eyes. “Get my coat!” I grind out to the attendant, who appears
as slacked jawed as me. Next, I turn my fury on the person who induced my rage.
My gloved finger taps on his chest. “You are a cold ass,
slutty
bitch! Two days ago you were with me, even spent the night!
Tonight you were flirting with two women right in front of me. Slut!” I angrily
repeat and continue tapping his chest.

After staring at me in open mouth wonderment, Gabe grabs my
hand, pressing it to his chest. “You’re jealous.”

“Not,” I say, tugging at my hand.

The attendant comes back, holding out my short jacket. I
didn’t know I’d be going to the concert in a dress. Gabe grabs it and yanks me
by the hand to the other side of the room.