Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 33965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 170(@200wpm)___ 136(@250wpm)___ 113(@300wpm)
It's a fine line to walk.
"Surely she's almost out of friends by now," I mutter as we step out onto the stage, making Mason laugh loudly. "She has to be running out of girlfriends."
The stage lights shine in my eyes, momentarily blinding me. I lose track of where I'm supposed to be on stage and bump into Jameson. He growls a curse, narrowly avoiding crashing to the ground. It's too damn late to save me, though.
I land flat on my back, staring up at the spotlights overhead.
"Fuck my life," I groan. Of course, my mic picks it up and sends the curse bouncing through the arena. And, of course, the group of women watching our rehearsal from the front row crack up.
Jameson leans down over me, extending his hand. "Missed your mark," he says with a smirk.
"Clearly." I haul myself to my feet, trying—and failing—to avoid looking at the group of women in the front row. My eyes shift in their direction anyway. Dani and Brielle have their heads bent, whispering back and forth. Chastity and Resa are seated beside them, dancing in their seats. Shelby's directly to the left of Chastity. But the tiny little redhead beside her is new. She's also fucking stunning.
She's younger than most of the girls, maybe twenty-one or twenty-two, with the brightest smile and the clearest green eyes I've ever seen. Freckles march across the bridge of her nose in chaotic patterns my fingers itch to trace. A cute pair of green cat-eye glasses perch on the end of her nose, perfectly matched to her dress.
Jesus H. Christ. With her head tilted back and laughter still falling from her lips, she's a bright ray of sunshine spilling light into the arena. My dick immediately pops up, standing at attention in my sweats. There's no hiding it. He just fucking reacts.
I jerk my hand from Jameson's, spinning away from the girls before they get a show they didn't come to see. The new girl is the only one getting a ticket to that performance.
Mason looks up from his drums, sees my situation, and immediately bursts into laughter. He starts humming the Wedding March between loud guffaws. For a moody drummer, he's an asshole.
"Why the fuck are you…whoa!" Jameson jumps back like my dick just tried to bite him. "Jesus, Crue. Put that goddamn thing away."
"I didn't invite him out in the first place," I mutter, running through a list of the worst things I can think of—their bare asses, running from screaming fans, that one time in Tokyo, catching my dad railing my ma on the sofa. Nothing works.
"Are we going to finish this rehearsal or…what the fuck, Crue?" Asher reacts the same way Jameson did, jumping back two steps. And then he glances over his shoulder at the girls and back to me before he smirks. "So I guess Ireland's getting her interview, huh?"
Ireland. Her name is Ireland.
I commit it to memory like I'm learning the periodic table, memorizing every line and curve of each letter. I plan to say them often.
"Get your dick under control so we can finish this rehearsal," Jameson says, as if I decide what the monster does. Frankly, until two minutes ago, I thought he was broken. He hasn't gotten hard for anything in years. Apparently, he isn't broken. He just doesn't work unless Ireland is involved.
Shit. Just thinking her name makes him harder.
"Can we stop talking about my goddamn cock?" I growl, trying desperately not to think about the curvy little redhead currently sitting in the front row.
"This band is too close," Jax mutters, walking over to us. "I don't even want to know why we're talking about…Oh. Well, I guess that's why we're talking about your dick."
I'm never going on tour again.
"Um, you guys know we can hear you, right?" Shelby calls up to us.
"No, you can't!" Jameson shouts back to her, making all the girls laugh.
"We can. Your mics are still live."
Not even that's enough to tame the beast.
"We're taking five," I mutter.
"You mean us…or you and your dick?" Jax asks, earning loud laughter from the rest of the band.
Schroeder, Toby, and Kai, who play our backing instruments, are practically fucking wheezing with laughter, the assholes.
I flip him them all off, already halfway to the exit on the left side of the stage. But then I say fuck it and reverse course. Everyone here has already heard us discussing my dick. Might as well own the fact that I'm hard as hell for the little redhead currently lighting up the whole damn arena.
I jump off the stage, stomping toward her.
The girls all watch me with wide eyes.
"Don't even think about looking at his dick!" Asher shouts to Brielle.
"What he said," Jax growls to Dani.
They aren't looking. They're too busy gaping as I stop in front of Ireland's seat, trying not to look like a complete fucking horny asshole.