Track 12: Star-crossed
“I’d like to think our love was written in the stars.
No matter what happened, never a shadow of a doubt.
Now I know that whatever was written, whatever was felt.
Could have been. Should have been. Now crossed out.”
GROANING, I PULLED MYSELF FROM bed as I heard Taylor enter my bedroom. She’d let herself into my suite a half an hour ago to wake me up, leaving me to lie lazily in the plush bed, my muscles sore and stiff from yesterday—my heart used and bruised from this entire tour.
I couldn’t be mad at Zach. Ok, I could. But what was the point? I’d asked for the letdown. In fact, I think at some moments during that evening (the thought of which still making my body warm and needy) I even begged.
If crazy was doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result, then torture is doing the same thing over and over again knowing things will never change.
Maybe it wasn’t just torture. Maybe it was just pure insanity.
Either way, I’d numbly come to accept that night that no matter how far I pushed him, he would never fall. He might trip. He might stumble. But his loyalty and steadfast determination was a foundation buried so far beneath the surface that I’d sooner dig to China than be able to get through it.
According to Google, I figured I was past the ‘anger’ stage of grief and steadily moving into bargaining. Mostly because I swore to myself… to Taylor… to God… that this wasn’t going to happen again. I swore that I would listen to my head and finish the tour the way I was supposed to just as long as my heart wasn’t broken anymore. And it was a deal.
So, when we’d landed yesterday in Austin and had most of the morning to give the world a ‘show’ before the concert began, I went into the prospect with a calm resignation to be kind and not careless. And because it was Texas, I suggested that we go for a trail ride. (Not because I’d been craving something that reminded me of the carriage ride in New York.)
Taylor researched a local horseback riding barn that was just outside of the city—Maverick Trail Rides. Zach picked up our rental—a Jeep Wrangler—and we’d been off to our latest adventure. Tay made sure to post a photo to my Instagram when we landed, tagging the barn we were headed to—a one-hundred-percent guarantee for a full parking lot of paparazzi when we arrived.
Thankfully, none of them were brave enough to actually follow us on horseback. Instead, they pulled out fancy lenses that looked like they could have captured my face if I’d decided to go for a hike on the moon and followed us at a distance.
The day was beautiful. Our guide, Danny, was really funny and the kind of nice that made light of the fact that she had a superstar on one of her horses—even taking us on detours when we ended up on roads that were littered with those same cars from the parking lot. I smiled and thanked her even though avoiding the cameras defeated the official purpose of why we were there. But I couldn’t tell her that.
The unofficial purpose was written in a code of secret smiles and laughter between Zach and me as we tried to control the animals beneath us who had minds of their own. The ride was laced with moments where he forgot to keep me at arm’s distance and I forgot to keep him at least a heartbreak away.
Luna, my horse, was a pig in another life and kept veering off or jerking her head to try and eat some grass. Zach’s mount, on the other hand, Troy, wanted nothing more than to bite Luna’s ass the entire ride. And it didn’t matter how many times I slowed to let him pass me, somehow, he and Troy would always end up behind me again.
The Texas sun was warm, but not as hot as Zach’s hard stare as he watched me ride. I shifted in the Western saddle, letting it rub against me in ways that it wasn’t intended to and imagining it was him moving beneath me… all the while knowing his heady gaze was because he saw what I was doing—letting each roll of my hips against the pummel of the saddle press against my ache. And he knew it was because of him.
I suffered with the memories that were still all over me like a wine-stained dress that I couldn’t wear anymore. Meanwhile, he’d kept to his word because that was the role he played best: the admirable asshole. Cool and collected, he became the perfect boyfriend when the world was watching. In private, it felt like there were still worlds between us.
Those lips of his though… they’d taken on a whole new meaning in my life. Until this point, they’d been the bearers of nicknames and taunts, they’d brought trials of pleasure followed by the verdict of heartbreak, and they’d been the unattainable goal—the end zone that my lips would never reach.
But now… I shivered and clenched my thighs tight together as I felt a rush of hot moisture between them. Now they’d transformed into exquisite destruction. Biting my lip, I let myself drift back to New York and the memory of his mouth devouring every inch of my desperate sex.
Deal. Remember the deal.
“Blay.”
My eyes shot open as Taylor stood in the doorway with her arms over her chest.
“Sorry,” I mumbled guiltily, throwing the covers off my now-steaming body. “My body doesn’t want to move after yesterday.”
Even though the trail ride was only ninety minutes, add on to that the show that followed complete with dancing and jumping, and it was the perfect recipe for legs that were at the same time too stiff to want to move and so weak they felt like jello when I tried.
“Sounds like you should grab a hot shower before we have to leave,” she said, walking into the adjoining bath and turning on the water before I could think about responding that a cold shower might be more in order.
“When do we have to go?” I asked hoarsely as I wobbled over to her. “And what’s on the schedule today?”
“Ahh… well…” she stuttered and stopped me in my tracks.
“Tay…” I eyed her, too sore to handle any suspense.
“You have a radio interview this morning with Austin Live.” The announcement came out in a rush.
“Oh. That’s fine,” I said moving past her and grunting with every effort I made to strip.
“They called this morning though.”
“About what?” I shut the shower door behind me and stepped into the hot stream, quickly cranking the dial down to cool.
“Well, they want to interview you and Zach.”
“What?” I asked, whipping the door open and sticking my half-drenched head back out.
“Bruce already told them ‘absolutely.’” She gave me a pleading ‘don’t shoot the messenger’ look along with a shrug that said ‘out of my hands.’
Of course he did.
A half-groan, half-whimper escaped as I hung my head in defeat. It was one thing to act like we were dating and fake (but not really) smiles and stares, maybe a kiss here or there, for the cameras; it was a whole different beast to talk about our relationship and about each other.
“It’ll be fine, B,” Tay tried to reassure me as I shut myself back into my watery confinement. “You guys have a ton of actual memories to draw from. And it’s not like anyone except the radio host—DJ Dave—can see you.”
I grabbed my cookie-scented soap, the kind that even had a recipe on the bottle, and squirted it angrily onto the washcloth. “What if our stories don’t match?” We needed to get our story straight. I huffed quietly at the moment when an interview began to feel like a trial.
“Take turns answering.”
“What if Zach says the wrong thing? He’s… He’s never liked me the way that I liked him. What if he isn’t convincing?”
“Then just do most of the talking,” she replied. “You were the original subject of the interview anyway. I’m sure the guy is just going to ask Zach like one or two questions and then forget about him; you are still the star of the show.”
I let the water run directly over my face, hoping it would wash away my anxiety over how things never seemed to go according to plan when it came to Zach. I had a feeling that this was going to be no exception.
“How could I forget?” I grumbled.
For someone who sang in front of tens of thousands of people on a regular basis, Baby Blake looked like the picture of a Nervous Nelly as DJ Dave, the six-foot-two bald body-builder who was either eating weights for breakfast or on a steady supply of steroids, led us into the recording room. If the Rock had a twin—a twin who was slightly bigger and slightly more tatted—DJ Dave would be him.
I tried not to laugh as Blay sat in the seat and immediately began fidgeting with her hands in her lap. Talk about giving away that there was something more to our story. Right after she’d just spent the last twenty minutes in the car, breathless and blabbing about all the things I could and couldn’t say in front of this guy—like I hadn’t known her her whole fucking life and desired her for half of it.
“Alright guys,” DJ Dave said with giant white smile. “I just have to go check one thing and then I’ll be back. We go live in five.” And with a rock-on hand sign, he strolled back out of the room, leaving the two of us alone for a minute.
“You’re going to eat right through your lip, Baby Blake.”
Immediately, her mouth parted and she licked over where she’d been about to wound herself.
“Remember, just let me do most of the talking,” she muttered.
I chuckled, “Whatever you say.”
“Seriously, Zach.”
“I am being serious.” I threw up my hands. “Speaking of being serious… I seriously think that DJ Dave’s teeth probably glow in the dark.”
“Zach!” she exclaimed and turned to glare at me even though I could see her trying to fight her smile that said she completely agreed with my assessment; the man’s teeth were blindingly white. “He can probably hear you.”
I laughed, prompting her to groan and bow her head.
With her hair pulled up in a ponytail, all I could focus on was the slender column of her neck sloping down to her shoulders that were partially bare from the one-shouldered top she had on. Before I could stop myself, my hand rose, my fingers brushing lightly on her exposed back.
She shivered but didn’t say anything.
I should have been happy. I should have been fucking elated the way she’d stopped pushing. Like New York had finally pushed her too far. And like an asshole, I wanted her back. I was fighting to find something that would convince my stupid goddamn head that I deserved to be with her. And that I wasn’t scum for what it would do to my friendship with Ash.
They trailed up to her neck and then began to knead into the taut muscles. Resting her chin on her hands, she let out the most fucking torturous little moans and sighs like she was purposely trying to see just how fucking little she had to do to get me off.
“Y-you don’t have to do this…” she finally said with a soft voice. “They can’t see us.”
“I know, Baby Blake. I know.”
That was the whole point.
Most things I wanted to do to her were things that shouldn’t be seen.
“So, are you happy with how the tour is going so far?” DJ Dave asked.
He’d been steadily talking to Blake for the past twenty minutes with a few unimportant questions thrown my way—mostly about ZPP.
She’d remained tense when he came back in the room even though the smile on her face told the world a different story. So, I kept my hand on her back, rubbing slow soothing circles along the edge of her shirt, enjoying the spark every time my fingers brushed over her skin.
When the red ‘Live’ light illuminated, I slid my hand to hers, prying her tightly gripped fingers apart and threading mine into them.
Distantly, I heard her words, but what I was really listening to was her body—the way her chest rose and fell (more rapidly when he was about to ask another question), the way her pulse sped underneath my fingers when they rubbed the back of her hand, and the way she licked her lips every time DJ Dave said my name.
“Alright.” Mr. Glow-in-the-Dark-Teeth said as he turned to me; Blay’s hand squeezed mine hard. “So, Zach. I think we are all dying to know some details about the two of you—lifelong friends that fate has now brought together in a different way.”
If he only knew.
“What is your first memory of Blake?”
Easy.
I grinned and I heard her groan beside me. “What?” I said turning to her. “I didn’t even answer him yet.”
“I know, but I know what you’re going to say and it’s embarrassing.”
“Oh, really? I don’t think that you do.”
“Of course, I do. I was there,” she insisted. “You’re going to tell him about the eggs.”
DJ Dave laughed and reminded the two of us that we weren’t alone. Blake’s cheeks turned a version of pink that perfectly matched her shirt. My dick wondered if it matched her nipples underneath, too.
I winked at her and began my story. “The first memory I have of Blake is the day that her family moved to Franklin.” Out of my periphery, I saw the way her brow furrowed adorably because she clearly didn’t remember. She’d been eight at the time.
“My parents and I walked over to their house to welcome them to the neighborhood—a neighborhood that consisted of now our two families and a variety of farm animals. I met her parents and her brother, Ash, who was eleven—the same age as me—but there was only mention of Blake who’d apparently cried the entire morning and stormed up to her new room the second they’d arrived.”
“Fast forward to that night. I’m climbing into bed and a light outside my window catches my eye. I figured it was just from their house; I wasn’t used to any light coming from that direction. So, I look out and see a few lights on in their house, but before I look away, I see another light roaming in the field—a flashlight.”
Blake’s eyes widened; she was remembering.
“I get dressed or whatever and run out there. Low and behold, it’s the little sister—Blake. And she’s lugging a rolling backpack with a huge image of a golden retriever on it behind her. Long story short, I introduce myself and all that—she wasn’t too impressed at the time. So, I ask her what she’s doing and she tells me that she’s running back to Nashville to be with her friends—specifically her friend Layla and Layla’s puppy, Oreo. Honestly, it seemed like she was more upset about leaving the dog than her friend, but who am I to say for sure?” I let out a soft chuckle as Blake playfully swatted my arm. “Naturally, I ask her how she knows that she’s going in the right direction and, staring at me with fiery blue eyes, she replies that she is following the North Star because she knows that Nashville was north of where we were.”
“Smart,” DJ Dave interjected with a grin.
“Right. So, I realize that I have a small problem on my hands because this little spark over here is determined to walk her way back to Nashville. By herself. In the dark. Obviously, the first thing that I say is that she can’t run away; she lives here. And that her parents and brother will be really sad.”
“What did you say, Blake?” The DJ asked Blake, clearly wanting her to get a word in on this story.
“I-I think I might have said that I didn’t care. That he couldn’t stop me.” She laughed and buried her face in her hands.
“To which I said ‘Fine’ but that I was going with her.” She nodded, agreeing with me. “A few steps later, I dramatically let out a sigh and pretend like I’m saying to myself, ‘I’m going to miss you, Cookie.’ You’re probably wondering who Cookie is—well, so did Blake. So, I told her that Cookie was my family’s border collie. That stopped her in her tracks. You should have seen how wide her eyes went when she clarified ‘You have a dog?’”
“Oh my God! I do remember this!” she exclaimed next to me.
With a smile, I continued, “So, I told her that I do—or did. Not anymore because she was making me leave him to go to Nashville with her.”
“I told you, you didn’t have to come,” she interrupted.
“And I replied that she was stuck with me whether she liked it or not but at least if she stayed here, she’d get to meet Cookie and be her friend, too.” I shot Blay a smile before I ended with, “And that was the first time I met her. I’d say she’s been stuck with me ever since.”
DJ Dave laughed and the look on his face was the one that everyone listening probably had—the one that recognized something real when they saw it. My smile flickered because it was real—but that didn’t mean I could have it. Or keep it.
“Wow!” he exclaimed. “What a story. What. A. Story. That’s awesome, you two. I’m sure all your fans listening, Blake, are going crazy over this. I’m also pretty sure that we want to know the eggs story.”
Blake groaned and rolled her eyes.
Figuring it would take up some time that would otherwise be spent on questions that would be too probing for comfort, I appeased him, recounting the time I’d shown Blake our chicken coop. She hadn’t realized that the eggs weren’t fertilized and would never become baby chicks. So, later that night, I’d caught her, with her Easter basket no less, trying to smuggle out all of the eggs in an attempt to ‘save’ the chicks.
That one had DJ Dave doubling over in a fit of laughter for a good minute and a half before he finally started to breathe again.
“Alright, I know our time is almost up. I just have one more question for you Zach, since time seems to have gotten away from me.”
Both Blake and I tensed, knowing whatever was coming was what we’d been dreading.
“How did you know?” he asked. “How did you know that what you felt for Blake was more than friendship—and dare I say love?”
Fuck.
And even though we’d managed to escape a shitload of potentially problematic questions, damn DJ Dave really knocked them all out of the park with this last one.
Blake didn’t blush this time. No. All the color drained out of her face. Even though she probably wanted to try to take the reins away from me on this one, she couldn’t; she sat frozen.
“That’s a good question,” I said, buying myself some time. I glanced over to girl who I hadn’t been able to shake after all these years, the one who’d grown around my bones, onto my mind, and into my heart.
With a sigh, I answered hoarsely, “Dave, let me ask you something. The breath you just took, do you remember taking it?”
He looked at me like I had three heads, but after a moment of stuttering, answered hesitantly, “Uh,” he stuttered. “I mean, no. I guess not.”
“Exactly. You don’t focus on breathing. It just happens,” I continued. “You don’t see it. You don’t smell it or taste it as the air is going in. The only reason you know it must have happened is because of the effect it causes; it’s only after the fact, it’s only when I ask you, that you know you breathed in order to live.” I paused, pulling my hand from Blake’s to adjust my hat. I couldn’t look at her. I couldn’t look at her because she’d know that I was telling the truth.
“I can’t tell you how I knew or when I knew that I wanted to be with her because I couldn’t see it coming. Or smell it. Or taste it. All I knew was that at some point I’d breathed her in and now I needed her to stay alive.”
“Why did you say that?” The words rushed from my mouth as I grabbed onto Zach’s arm and pulled him to stop before we reached the car.
He spun to face me with the chiseled, hard expression that had been carved onto his face as soon as the interview ended. “Because he asked the question,” he barely replied through lips that were pulled taut in an angry line.
“Did… did you mean it?” I whispered, my hand dropping from his arm as he stepped closer to me.
I couldn’t believe what I’d heard. Neither could DJ Dave for that matter. That question was going to end us—I was sure of it. All I could hope was that Zach could come up with another cute story that would appease rather than answer the incredibly personal question.
But what had come out… What it sounded like he meant… How could I believe that? Not after what happened in New York. Not after he’d told me (more or less) that whatever he felt for me was a mistake—that I would always just be a mistake. Blake the Mistake.
Mistake Blake.
How could you not believe it? My heart argued.
“Zach…” I whispered, licking my lips as I tipped my head up to his. He was so close, but not close enough. Our chests touched as our lungs fought for the same ‘oxygen’ between us, his head dipped towards mine and I thought he was going to kiss me. I thought he was going to show me that it was true.
What he said… Well, I wouldn’t have ever thought to put it that way. No. If I’d been given the chance to answer, I would have said that I knew I loved Zach from the moment I realized that it was only he who seemed to have the missing pieces to my heart.
Unfortunately, I was still learning that the only reason he had those pieces was because he was the one who’d broken it in the first place.
His nose nuzzled mine and the battle that fought inside of him was both frustrating and familiar.
Fight for me, heart, I tried to breathe into his, knowing this wasn’t part of my deal; I was now bargaining with the wrong person. Still, I pleaded to the part of him that wanted me. The part that kissed and touched me even when he knew that he shouldn’t—even when it made him a traitor. It was the part that healed the hurt and warmed the coldness that he’d left in me.
“Did you mean it?” I asked again, so tempted to kiss him
So close. So close to everything.
“I meant…” he paused, his nostrils flaring with angry breaths. Whatever he’d been about to say was going to add to my missing parts; I could see it happening right in front of me. “I meant what I said about sticking to the contract. To our plan. I said what I had to.”
To end the conversation? Or to tell the truth?
“Which is why this,” his mouth captured mine in what would look like a gentle kiss but felt like his lips were holding the bull back from the fight, ready at any moment to break free and devour me, “is just for them,” he finished as his lips turned up in a small, fake smile.
The heat from his touch dissipated and I didn’t have to turn my head to know that the cameras had gathered to capture the two of us after what was sure to be reported as a ‘sensational’ interview sealed with a kiss.
He turned and walked to the car leaving me to try and find balance between the intense high I’d been at to the extreme low that he’d pulled me to. I glanced behind me, half expecting there to be a trail of broken pieces of my heart behind me as I followed him.
I hated the way he could just stand there, a breathtaking model of devastating dissonance, as he held the door open for me like a gentleman while breaking my heart like a scoundrel.