Rock Star Romance: Dan (Contemporary New Adult Rockstar Bad Boy Romance) (Hard Rock Star Series Book 4) by Jade Allen Page A
Authors: Jade Allen
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him to understand where I
was coming from, what had happened, the fact that I wasn’t out to screw him. I
kept thinking about the rant he’d gone on the night we’d both met Sophie: that
it was unreal that Jules had a girlfriend before he did. Sophie might not have
been anything serious to him, but between Jules having a functioning
relationship against all the odds and me pulling a chick he wanted without him
knowing about it, he was obviously going to have some wounded pride.
If we’re not in the studio today I guess I have
to, I wrote Nick. Alex and Jules sent texts confirming that Mark had told
them about not coming in too, and wondering if I knew anything about it; they
didn’t really know what was going on with Mark, or with any of the other
members of the band, not the way that we used to know about each other’s lives,
ever since they’d gotten together with their girlfriends. Nick only knew about
it because he and Liv had been at Prop.
I bit the bullet and finally replied to Mark’s
message. Hey, man. Let’s meet up at Nippers since apparently we’re not
working today. If I was going to talk to Mark about the situation at hand,
I was going to definitely need some fucking coffee before I did. I threw on
some clothes and got into my car and went up to Rhino in Boca while I waited to
hear from Mark. I texted Sophie to let her know that it was okay—that I’d work
things out with Mark on my own, that we were still on for our next date. I had
no idea whether or not I would actually be able to square things away with Mark;
but I hoped that I could.
I sat down outside with a couple of donuts and a
big coffee, and lit a cigarette. Mark and I were in a band together; we were
friends. We’d been friends for years. Surely we could get through something
this minor—right? I finished off my donuts and lit another cig, staring at my
phone and willing it to vibrate, to flash on the screen that Mark had texted me
back. I kept telling myself that it was just a one-day delay, that we’d hash it
out over beers and everything would be fine. But after three cigarettes I had
to admit that it was taking Mark longer than I would have thought to get back
to me. Are we meeting up or what?
A couple of minutes later I
got my response: Fuck off.
****
A week after Mark had told me to fuck off, instead
of meeting with me, I found myself at Respects again. Once more, I had
cigarettes, lighter, ashtray, and a beer in front of me; but I was by myself. I
lit up and looked around the bar, trying not to be the morose asshole I felt
like. It was eleven, so people were starting to come in, but I didn’t think
there would be that many; according to Sophie the place was almost never super
packed on a Wednesday. Thursdays--for Flaunt--it would get busy, and then on
Friday, and almost always on Saturday, but unless there was an actual event,
Wednesdays mostly only managed to bring out the diehards.
I flicked the tip of my cig in the ashtray and
looked behind the bar. Sophie was in perpetual motion, taking stock of her
supplies, closing out tabs, opening tabs, going into the back for whatever it
was anyone needed. Queens of The Stone Age, “No One Knows” came on through the
system and I saw her hips beginning to move in time, as she scribbled something
down on a pad. I wasn’t sure if it was just me, but it seemed like she got
hotter every time I saw her; when I’d picked her up to drive her to work about
an hour and a half before, it’d been all I could do not to drag her back into
her apartment and convince her to let me make her late. She’d pulled her hair
back into the spiky, small pigtails I’d liked so much the first night I’d seen
her, but she was wearing a pair of shorts that barely covered her ass, along
with a thin, almost transparent shirt that draped across her shoulders and
clung to her tits.
“Want another shot?” Sophie leaned in closer to me
over the bar, and I shrugged.
“Might as well,” I replied.
was coming from, what had happened, the fact that I wasn’t out to screw him. I
kept thinking about the rant he’d gone on the night we’d both met Sophie: that
it was unreal that Jules had a girlfriend before he did. Sophie might not have
been anything serious to him, but between Jules having a functioning
relationship against all the odds and me pulling a chick he wanted without him
knowing about it, he was obviously going to have some wounded pride.
If we’re not in the studio today I guess I have
to, I wrote Nick. Alex and Jules sent texts confirming that Mark had told
them about not coming in too, and wondering if I knew anything about it; they
didn’t really know what was going on with Mark, or with any of the other
members of the band, not the way that we used to know about each other’s lives,
ever since they’d gotten together with their girlfriends. Nick only knew about
it because he and Liv had been at Prop.
I bit the bullet and finally replied to Mark’s
message. Hey, man. Let’s meet up at Nippers since apparently we’re not
working today. If I was going to talk to Mark about the situation at hand,
I was going to definitely need some fucking coffee before I did. I threw on
some clothes and got into my car and went up to Rhino in Boca while I waited to
hear from Mark. I texted Sophie to let her know that it was okay—that I’d work
things out with Mark on my own, that we were still on for our next date. I had
no idea whether or not I would actually be able to square things away with Mark;
but I hoped that I could.
I sat down outside with a couple of donuts and a
big coffee, and lit a cigarette. Mark and I were in a band together; we were
friends. We’d been friends for years. Surely we could get through something
this minor—right? I finished off my donuts and lit another cig, staring at my
phone and willing it to vibrate, to flash on the screen that Mark had texted me
back. I kept telling myself that it was just a one-day delay, that we’d hash it
out over beers and everything would be fine. But after three cigarettes I had
to admit that it was taking Mark longer than I would have thought to get back
to me. Are we meeting up or what?
A couple of minutes later I
got my response: Fuck off.
****
A week after Mark had told me to fuck off, instead
of meeting with me, I found myself at Respects again. Once more, I had
cigarettes, lighter, ashtray, and a beer in front of me; but I was by myself. I
lit up and looked around the bar, trying not to be the morose asshole I felt
like. It was eleven, so people were starting to come in, but I didn’t think
there would be that many; according to Sophie the place was almost never super
packed on a Wednesday. Thursdays--for Flaunt--it would get busy, and then on
Friday, and almost always on Saturday, but unless there was an actual event,
Wednesdays mostly only managed to bring out the diehards.
I flicked the tip of my cig in the ashtray and
looked behind the bar. Sophie was in perpetual motion, taking stock of her
supplies, closing out tabs, opening tabs, going into the back for whatever it
was anyone needed. Queens of The Stone Age, “No One Knows” came on through the
system and I saw her hips beginning to move in time, as she scribbled something
down on a pad. I wasn’t sure if it was just me, but it seemed like she got
hotter every time I saw her; when I’d picked her up to drive her to work about
an hour and a half before, it’d been all I could do not to drag her back into
her apartment and convince her to let me make her late. She’d pulled her hair
back into the spiky, small pigtails I’d liked so much the first night I’d seen
her, but she was wearing a pair of shorts that barely covered her ass, along
with a thin, almost transparent shirt that draped across her shoulders and
clung to her tits.
“Want another shot?” Sophie leaned in closer to me
over the bar, and I shrugged.
“Might as well,” I replied.
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