Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 34629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34629 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 173(@200wpm)___ 139(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Evidently, my cock is scandalous.
I don’t want to wake up properly and face the day. I want to stay here in Thorne’s warmth and live the fantasy of a normal life for a little longer.
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.
Knew it was too good to last.
“Open up.” It’s Cash.
Thorne doesn’t stir in my arms. He’s too out of it.
I roll out of bed, and Thorne moans but still doesn’t wake. Stumbling toward the hotel room door, I pull it open and stare at my best friend through squinted eyes.
Fuck, the hallway’s bright.
I rub the back of my neck, but the mess that is my hair falls over my face. I try to tame the mane, but it’s too fucked up. Unlike Cash, who has long straight hair, mine is a nest of curls and frizz.
“Dude, have you seen—” Cash lets himself in and pauses. “Holy shit, did you fuck our manager?”
Locke, Cash’s fiancé, steps through after him. He’s a tall, kind of lanky redhead with freckles. Definitely not the image of someone who a rock star would be marrying, but he makes Cash happy, and that’s all that matters.
“Good morning, Cash,” Thorne rumbles and sits up.
His gray T-shirt sits tight across his impressive chest, and since when do I notice Thorne’s chest?
I shake my head.
Get a grip, Seb.
“Awkward,” Locke says.
“How long has this been going on?” Cash asks.
I roll my eyes. “He crashed in here last night after the awesomeness that is my dick has been released into the world. Did you know that it’s so impressive it can be seen from space? Cockgate is a huge scandal. What can I say? I love making Thorne’s job hard.”
“That makes more sense.” Cash glances between Thorne and me. “And, uh, that’s why I’m down here. I was wondering if you’d seen the news.”
“The news being my dick? Yes, I see it every day. And it’s big news.”
Cash holds up his hand. “Okay, we get it. You’re delusional about the size of your dick.”
I force a grin. Playing it off, I can do this.
Thorne stands and stretches. “We have one more show before we have a break for Christmas. How about we try not to make the news today?”
“We promise,” Cash and I say at the same time in a monotone voice.
Thorne waves a finger between us. “I don’t like it when you two do that. It usually means you’re faking it.”
Cash throws up his hands. “Hey, I’m not the troublemaker anymore thanks to this guy.” He pulls Locke close.
I want someone to pull close to me.
I’ve never had that before, and I don’t know why I suddenly need it. Could it be that I’ve reached that age where people want to settle down? Or is it I see how happy Locke makes Cash, and I realize how empty my life is?
It’s rock star tours and partying and sex. So. Much. Sex. But I don’t have that emotional connection to anyone. Or anything.
I don’t know how I’m supposed to find that while doing what we do. I don’t have a high school sweetheart out there somewhere hoping I come find them.
Thorne grips my shoulder. “Seb?”
I blink out of my daze and am met with three concerned stares. “What?”
“We asked if you were ready for breakfast.” Cash cocks his head.
“Oh. Right. Breakfast. Yup. Let me just …” I pick up the nearest clothes lying on the floor and throw them on.
The hotel we’re staying at is super nice. Way too nice for a rock tour who are more likely to trash their five-star furnishings. That’s probably why they gave us one of their small conference rooms to use as the band and crew’s breakfast buffet.
We go down there as a group, and while I’m used to people staring at me—well, I’m used to people staring at Cash who’s always beside me—this is different. As soon as we enter the room, every set of eyes are on me, and I have to play the part.
The voice inside my head screams run, but I can’t do that.
I wave everyone off, though it looks more like a flail. “Please, like half of you hadn’t already seen my cock.” Everyone in the room bursts into laughter. “Didn’t realize it was that funny,” I mumble.
Cash nudges me. “Water off a duck’s back, am I right?”
“Sure.”
We load up our plates from the portable chafing dishes, but when we go to find seats, there are none. I want to make it an excuse so I can take my plate back to the room, but as usual, our crew moves for us to take seats at the table. The one time I don’t want to be treated like a celebrity, they move.
Right.
Of course.
This is fine.
We’ll do the concert tonight, fly to bumfuck Montana tomorrow to spend Christmas together in a secluded cabin owned by some dude Cash knows, and by the time we go back on tour in the new year, this whole thing will be forgotten.