Free Rock Me Deep by Nora Flite Page B

the crowd.
    Maybe, after they see me on stage...
    Did I want that kind of attention? Part of me was thrilled by the idea. If—when—I get on stage, if I fuck up like I was doing earlier, these people will remember me for all the wrong reasons.
    My teeth hurt from clenching my jaw.
    Tonight was so weird. Drez was cold, then he was a magnet, then he was off of me again. Flirting with that girl, talking about Sean like they had some awful history or something.
    Reaching for my pocket, I felt for my phone. Sean had told me to talk to him after practice. I was sure he was somewhere nearby, possibly even in the restaurant, hoping to run into me.
    Clutching the cold device wasn't comforting. I was tired, a bit drunk, and not sure what to even tell him. Yes, Sean. I fucked up today at my first practice. Why? Because I turned into a sloppy mess around Drezden. I really fucked up. Oh don't worry, I got better. How? I just chewed up my own tongue!
    Sean would be pissed, or worse, disappointed if he found out I'd hurt myself just to get some control. After everything I'd worked so hard to get over in the past, I couldn't handle seeing his face scrunch up in shame.
    Tomorrow. I'll talk to him tomorrow.
    Weaving through the laughing, drunken crowd, I headed towards the tour bus. There were a few men standing near the front door, men I hadn't seen before. They took one look at me, arms folding to transform them into standing walls of muscle. “What is it, little lady?” one of them asked.
    Little lady? I almost told him to eat a dick. The edges of my lips felt dry, licking them did little. My near-to-drunk state made my brain muddled. “I need to get inside.”
    Their laughter cut deep. “Yeah? Sure you do. Get lost. Unless you want to have some fun with me?” The guard who'd asked that had a jack-o-lantern smile.
    Shaking my head, I fought down a wave of frustration. “Let me the fuck inside,” I growled, pushing forward. “I just want to go to sleep!”
    I didn't see anyone move, but my back hit the hard cement, all of the wind fleeing my lungs. The spray of starlight overhead felt like I could reach it if I just stretched my arm up. Everything was echoing as if I was underwater. What the hell? Did someone just push me down?
    Sitting up on my elbows, ignoring the dull burning on my raw skin, I stared at the guards. “What the hell?” I coughed, forcing in delicious air. Rocking on my side, I stumbled to my feet. “What was that for?”
    No sympathy existed in the eyes of those men. Behind me, the sea of people was a background of emotionless ignorance. No one cared about what was happening to me, no one gave a single shit.
    Swaying forward, I went to shove one of the guards. I didn't have a plan; I was just bursting with rage that had nowhere to go and enough alcohol to smother my good sense. But I wanted to get even with them—they'd actually pushed me down! This was my tour bus, too. Didn't they understand?
    Easily, the guard dodged me. Another pair of hands grabbed me and yanked me sideways. All around me the men roared with laughter. It felt too much like I was being spun on a roller coaster with no end in sight.
    Then it did end; I hit the ground, grunting. The motion jolted into my guts. Hunched over with my palms splayed wide, I wasn't proud when I threw up. On hands and knees, shivering in shame, I stared down at my puke and coughed.
    My brain itched, recalling a time when I was in middle school. I'd been in a fight with some kids, and I'd ended up just like this; broken, a weak mess.
    Pathetic.
    Back then, the only person who cared was... was Sean. Lifting my eyes, I fought through my daze and expected to see the face of my older brother. It was a poor wish that went nowhere.
    I was alone.
    Well, not alone—the guards were a hellish kind of company. One of their hands came down, curling in my scalp. Ripped to my feet, I jabbed an elbow into one of them and shouted, “Let me go! ”
    "Little bitch actually hit me!"