Total pages in book: 200
Estimated words: 189898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 760(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 189898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 949(@200wpm)___ 760(@250wpm)___ 633(@300wpm)
The hours until the show seemed to tick by agonizingly slow. Houston never reappeared during that time, and I didn’t see him until the very last moment.
I could feel his gaze as I walked onto the stage, looking amazing but feeling like shit.
Tonight, I wore a black floor-length sheath with slits so high the stylist paired my dress with a bodysuit so that I didn’t accidentally flash my vagina. God, who I wasn’t sure I believed in, must have decided I’d had enough for today.
That was until the show started.
Yellow and red formed shapes around me as we played, but I didn’t listen to the notes through my eyes. Not this time. I was caught up in the words. I dissected each one, and not for the first time, I wondered about the girl in the song. Tonight, it felt like that girl was me even though I knew it was impossible.
She’s got claws that scratch me deep
She digs for feelings I never invited
Caught within her cold embrace
I’m falling, stalling, all over again
Just head over heels for her crocodile tears
Why don’t you just shut up
Why can’t you just get up
Why won’t you stop pulling me down (Die)
Bleeding myself dry to give you everything
Then you tell me it’s not enough, you want it all
How could I have loved such a heartless bitch
I’m not who I am anymore
Why don’t you just shut up
Why can’t you just get up
Why won’t you stop pulling me down (Die)
Hypnotized by your graceless lies
A fool for what’s in cold, dead eyes
You will never be more than a bad memory
So run, run, just keep running away from me
Of course, Houston sang as if it was his pain, but all that proved was how talented he was. It was hard enough to imagine that Houston had a heart. I couldn’t fathom him letting it be broken.
I looked to Bound’s bassist—the link between the rhythm and the melody, and the most vulnerable of the trio. I’m sure anyone would have assumed that role belonged to Rich, but no. Only someone having trouble burying their pain would feel the need to deceive. Loren’s behavior was as much for him as it was for everyone else. He was precisely the type to get his heart broken and then write a diss track.
I admired his perfect smile and the sweat dripping down his exposed abs and wondered who could willingly give him up or hurt him. Tonight, he hadn’t bothered with a shirt. All he’d worn were black jeans and matching suspenders hanging down by his hips, boots, and that medallion I hadn’t gotten around to asking him about.
His brows that had been dipped with concentration cleared as he turned his head the slightest bit and caught me drooling. I turned away before he could react. It was just in time to switch from rhythm to lead and deliver a solo that brought the house down.
Once the show ended, we were rushed from the stadium. The three of them piled into a separate Suburban, though, and I frowned at that before shrugging it off. It wasn’t exactly news that I was the odd man out, but they didn’t have to be so blatant about it.
I didn’t let it ruin the rush I felt from another successful show, and by the time the short drive was over, I’d successfully cast them from my mind. Texting back and forth with Griff and Maeko helped. They were sending me clips and shots of the show that had already surfaced online as if I hadn’t been there. Sweat beaded my brow, and my heart began pounding at the last photo they’d sent.
Someone, somehow, had captured a picture of Loren and me staring at one another.
I wasn’t aware before now how much could be said in one look. And it wasn’t one of those grainy, faraway shots either.
Nope.
It was a close-up with crystal fucking clarity.
You’d think I’d been caught with my hand down his pants with how quickly I clicked out of the photo. I shoved my phone in my bag just as I reached Bound’s tour bus, only to stop dead in my tracks.
Everything I owned was packed and waiting for me on the curb.
Instead of rushing for them, I stared blankly at my bags. My mind and body were unable to react. I didn’t know where to begin. Houston had been furious, but I didn’t think he’d be this upset. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to think rationally rather than emotionally.
One, they couldn’t finish the tour without me.
Two, it was impossible that they’d found a replacement in a matter of hours when the reason I was standing here was that they were too damn picky.
I wouldn’t figure out what bug was up their ass this time by guessing, so I turned away from the bus to go find them when one of the roadies found me instead.