Free Rock Me (New Adult Rockstar Romance) by Evelyn Glass Page B

neatly on the bed. I pretend I don’t yet see it.
     
    The two halves of my mind are waging a silent war. I won’t allow either one to speak. Any moment that his name sneaks into my thoughts – Garret, a hushed whisper, a vocal beckon – I crank the music louder to drown it out.
     
    Skirts and tops come on and off, heels are buckled and strapped and promptly removed. I know I am being silly but I refuse to acknowledge it. The only thing I want to hear is the tinny, sugar-coated whine of the pop stars blasting out of the crackling speakers.
     
    At one point, I stop and stand in front of the mirror. Black lace lingerie hugs my hips deliciously. My breasts are erupting from the matching bra that surrounds them. The tiny mounds of my nipples peak against the soft fabric.
     
    I turn down the volume. One thought crosses my mind – Would he like me like this? I wonder. Would he fuck me? And if he did, what would it be like?
     
    I shouldn’t have let myself consider that. The thought of smooth bodies and tangled sheets take shape in my mind, my knees weaken and I fall to the ground.
     
    I wonder if he would fuck me like Bellamy would – like I’m an object, a centerfold in a magazine, bound, gagged, desperate. I see the harsh glimmer that lurks on the edge of Garret’s eyes sometimes. It scares me - it looks so similar to the way Bellamy glares.
     
    I wonder if Garret could love me – if he would love me. I think of that girl who had approached us on the couch that night and remember the way her husky breath slithered over Garret’s neck. How could I compete?
     
    I want him to fuck me, not like Bellamy, but like music – the way he was talking about that night. I want him to move with me and through me. I want him to play me, to pluck me so that the sensitive strings that bind me together hum and murmur in harmony.
     
    One hand steals over the curve of my breasts, detours across my hip, and slithers underneath the hem of my underwear. With bated breath, I extend a trembling fingertip and stroke my engorged clit.
     
    Rainbows arc outwards down the highways of my nerves. The tiniest of pressures sends sparks racing over every inch of skin. I want to cum only seconds after I have started to touch myself.
     
    Catching my breath, I yank my hand away. You can’t be doing this. You can’t be feeling this way, the foghorn voice blares. I agree, temporarily. I quickly dress in the outfit I had chosen days before and scamper out the door. On my way out, I glance at the mirror. As I do, I could almost swear that, in the uppermost corner, I see Garret smiling. I shudder, turn out the lights, and slam the door shut behind me.
     
    ***
     
    I see Sarah on the corner a block away, making exaggerated hand motions as she talks to a couple of guys in skinny jeans and white button-ups. She spies me walking up and shrieks, running over to give me a tight embrace and kiss on the cheek. She tells me I look fabulous.
     
    “You really outdid yourself this time, Jodie! Your dress is amazing!” she yelps. I smile and thank her.
     
    If possible, I look even skankier than last time. A new black dress is hiked up my thighs, with razor-thin straps criss-crossing over my back and perilously restraining the bulk of my cleavage. A pair of crimson heels adds four inches to my height. The quiet undercurrent to my thoughts effuses satisfaction, though the foghorn maintains a grim silence.
     
    We enter the building, make our way to the bar, and grab drinks before starting to wander in the direction of the stage. Sarah is holding forth with her usual stream of consciousness babble. Vaguely familiar names – friends of friends of friends, their cousins and ex-boyfriends and bandmates – are studded throughout the conversation. I note them with a minimal degree of interest.
     
    I scan the room while she talks, pretending to not look for the person for whom I am obviously looking. No sign of his tangled locks, though my heart throbs when a