Tessa’s dad is shocked, to say the least.

“You’ve… been texting with a famous musician in a rock band?” he asks slowly, staring at the kitchen table right in front of her.

“Yep,” she says. So far he hasn’t asked what the texting has involved, but she knows she’s going to lie about it even if he does ask. There are some things you just don’t tell your dad, no matter how close you are. “And now I’m working for them.”

“Okay,” he says. That’s all he says for a little while. Somewhere upstairs, Jackie’s stereo is blazing her copy of the Sinful Rhythms album, which the boys had gifted her at the end of the night, along with about a truckload of merchandise. The heavy bass and drums are all that Tessa can hear from downstairs, but she knows that somewhere in the din is a smoky voice and a thrashing guitar.

Her dad sips his coffee, which is instant, and weak, and sugared up to the point where she might as well have just made him liquid sugar. Thinking of that makes her remember that she’ll need to quit her job at Starbucks. She’s sure as hell looking forward to that.

Mikayla sent her the contract immediately after the show, and Tessa and her dad had sat down to read it together. The more he’d read, the more his eyebrows had sky-rocketed until he’d asked her to make him a coffee and explain everything. Now, she’d made him the coffee and tried to explain. He’s still digesting the information though.

“You’re going to tour with them,” he says. His voice is deep as he sounds out every syllable of every word. “Is that safe?”

“Of course,” Tessa says. “They’ve all got girlfriends… one of them is married. I’ll just stick to the girls, and I’ll be fine.”

She doesn’t mention that her texting buddy, Dash, is unattached. Let her dad make his own assumptions. He reads over the contract again on her battered laptop that got her through all of undergrad with only a few minor blow-ups. Kaden and Halley, the eldest twins, have to share a laptop because her dad could only afford to buy one when he’d sent them off to college. If Tessa takes this job, she’ll be able to buy them both a new one.

Slowly, her dad taps the edge of the laptop’s keyboard and looks up at Tessa. She feels a jolt of surprise when she sees that he has tears in his eyes.

“Honey, I’m so proud of you.”

“Dad!” She rushes around the table and pulls him into a hug. “Geez, it’s just a job offer.”

“I know, but you deserve the best.”

She holds him a little longer, until she’s sure that he’s got himself under control, and then pulls away.

“So, I’m going to sign it. Okay?” she says.

He nods, and she quickly turns to the laptop to add her digital signature to the pdf. Then she attaches it to an email and sends it before she can change her mind.

“I guess Mikayla wants me to start in a few days. I’m supposed to go with them back to New York.”

“Better start packing.”

Tessa kisses him on the cheek and bounds upstairs to take a look at her clothing situation. She has a couple of outfits that she considers ‘job appropriate,’ but not nearly enough for what is essentially going to be a live-in position where she’ll be with her employers twenty-four-seven.

Should she consider them her employers? She can’t decide. Only Logan and Mikayla have exuded any sense of professionalism, Slate and Tommy were more like trained monkeys or younger brothers, and Dash? Well, Dash is something else.

As Tess walks upstairs, she passes Jackie’s door and nearly knocks on it to tell her the good news, then decides against it. Her sister has already imploded once today, and besides, she already knew what decision Tessa was going to make. She, Tommy and Slate had spent a good few minutes high-fiving, and then Slate had performed a drum solo on an empty box of chicken wings. Harper and Sersha had each taken turns hugging Tessa until Dash had swooped back in and claimed her for himself.

Tess finally makes it to her room and opens her phone, typing in the message.

 

Tessa: Just sent Mikayla the contract. You’re stuck with me now.

 

She really hopes that he doesn’t end up regretting it. They’d had such instant chemistry—they knew all the same jokes and liked a lot of the same things. She’d often heard stories about how people who met online would meet in real-life and realize that they were better off as friends with a screen between them, but thankfully that doesn’t seem to be the case here. Dash and Tessa had clicked almost instantly. But will working together change that?

Dash replies and Tessa is opening her message before the ringtone stops.

 

D: AWESOME!! welcome to the band gorgeous

D: ur still gonna take me out for pizza b4 we leave right

D: i want my damn pizza :(

Tessa: Of course I will.

 

Tessa puts her phone on the bed, then frowns over at her closet and picks it up again.

 

Tessa: What’s the dress code like for this job?

 

His reply is almost instant.

 

D: wtf what dress code

D: just wear what u wore today

D: u looked hot asfuck

 

Tess smiles at the message but shakes her head.

 

Tessa: That was rock concert attire, not work attire.

D: were literally a rock band??? theyre the same thing???

Tessa: Yeah, but I’m a writer.

D: shrug just wear whatever i dont think any1 will mind

Tessa: You are the least helpful person in the world.

D: well ajsdlkfj;leijrfk678

D: DEAR SEXY – WORK ATTIRE INCLUDES THE STRAP ON DILDO OF YOUR CHOICE TO BE USED ON ME AT YOUR DISCRETION

D: wear the bow. Nothing else. Just the bowjskjfg’

 

Tessa’s phone just keeps pinging and she’s pretty sure she knows what’s going on, but she’s enjoying the spectacle to do anything more than cover her mouth with her hand and giggle. It gets to the point where she has to sit down on the side of her bed and clutch her stomach.

 

D: ignore that

D: don’t ignore that these are my deepest desires i would like to write a sonnet for you and also buy you soft pretzels

D: kjaldsfklhupoeikfm34

D: tell me im pretty

D: liojl

D: FREE THE NIPPLE

D: SPECIFICLLY MY NIPPLE SET IT FREE TESS

 

Finally, Tessa takes pity on the situation and calls him, though she has to take a few long breaths to get herself under control first. The phone rings a couple of times, and then a falsetto voice answers in a British accent.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is Dash there?”

“I’m sorry, Dash cannot come to the phone right now. He’s busy shaving his chest—”

“Fucking hell, Tommy!”

“Shit… Slate, hold him.”

“I’m trying, he’s like a weasel.”

“Give it back!”

There’s a sound of crashing, more swearing, and a muffled sound of fingers over the microphone. Slate’s voice shouts, “Run Tommy!” and then there’s heavy breathing as someone—presumably Tommy—runs from the noise. A door slams and then there’s silence.

“Still there?” Tessa asks.

“Indeed,” Tommy replies in his fake British accent. “Thank you for waiting. Quickly, this is very important… are you listening?”

“With rapt attention,” Tessa says. She climbs up onto her bed and starts rifling through her clothes, thinking that she might as well kill two birds with the one stone and talk to Tommy while she’s going through her clothes.

“I need you to send me screenshots of the lovey-dovey texts,” Tommy says, in all seriousness. “Not the sexy ones, I already feel inadequate compared to Dash as it is. Just the ones that make him seem like a fourteen-year-old girl with a crush. I can pay you in Chipotle.”

“A tempting offer,” Tessa says, grinning. “But I think I’m going to have to decline.”

“I can sweeten the pot,” Tommy replies quickly. “I can go as high as half a punnet of blueberry Ben and Jerrys and a DVD copy of Old School.”

Then another crash sounds and Tommy has just enough time to swear quietly before he lets out an “oomph,” and Dash’s voice joins the barrage of noise filtering through Tessa’s phone.

“I’m throwing your bass out a fucking window. I give zero fucks. Get your hand off my ass, Slate.”

“It’s okay, just pretend it’s Tess.”

“I swear to God—”

 “Oh, Dash, I never knew it could be this way.”

“You all are literally the worst…”

“What’s going on?” a woman’s voice cuts through the fray, but she only silences them for a little while, then they’re back to swearing and shouting.

A hand passes over the microphone again, and someone shouts, “Mikayla, don’t spoil our fun,” before Mikayla’s voice comes more clearly through Tessa’s ear. “Hello?”

“Hi, Mikayla. It’s Tess.”

“Oh, hi,” Mikayla says brightly. “I just got your contract… I’ll send you some more details in a few hours.”

“Thank you. Hey! What’s the dress code?”

“With these boys…” Mikayla says as the volume of shouting starts to die down, “… I think anything that doesn’t stain or wrinkle would be best. Remember that touring doesn’t leave as much room as anyone would like for laundry.”

“Great, thanks.”

She hears Dash say something, but whatever it is, it’s lost to the sound of Slate and Tommy hollering and laughing.

Mikayla sighs. “Lovely talking to you, Tess. I’m going to put Dash on now.”

“Great, thanks. Have a good night.”

“You too.”

There’s more noise. Muffled voices and laughter. When Dash’s voice finally comes clear, Tessa can tell that he’s not talking to her when he says, “She’s not my mom… she’s my sister-in-law.”

“Whatever Mama’s boy.”

“Fuck off, Slate, go do some push ups or something.”

A door closes, and suddenly it’s quiet on Dash’s end. “Tess? You there?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Tessa replies. “Just so you know, Tommy wants screenshots of your lovey-dovey texts.”

“He’s getting a bowl of cereal in his bed tonight,” Dash mutters darkly. There’s another door closing, more silence. Then he says, “Okay, I’m back in my room now. And the door is fucking locked.”

“Good, because I was wondering.”

“Sorry about that,” he says, and his voice sounds pretty embarrassed. “They’re… well, they’re assholes.”

“I think they’re funny,” Tessa replies. “It’s the sort of thing I think my brothers would do.”

“Yeah, I guess,” says Dash. “Just so we’re clear, I don’t need you to free my nipples. But you can go ahead and tell me I’m pretty.”

“You’re pretty.”

They laugh together. It occurs to Tessa that this is the first time she and Dash have talked on the phone. They had kept it strictly to texts before now. Hearing his voice—even if it’s a shallow, tinny version of the voice she’d gotten used to during their conversations earlier that night—was pretty special.

Dash seems to be thinking along the same lines. “It’s weird to hear you talking.”

“Yeah, it is,” Tessa replies. “Especially since I would have usually gotten at least two dickpics by now.”

Her tongue goes between her teeth and she wonders if, by biting down, she could take that back. She’s not sure where they’re at now they know each other’s names. Has the dynamic changed? Dash hadn’t tried to be flirty since he’d invited her to the concert. Except for that one moment, after he’d first hugged her when he’d ordered her to keep her eyes on him. She isn’t even sure if he’s aware of how hot that was. But then, she thinks, D may be cheeky and a bit of a dork, but he’s pretty good at knowing what gets a girl’s motor running.

She’d always found it strange, that dichotomy of his personality. The way he could be so hot, the way that he could switch from loveable doofus to smoking in a single text. She’d sometimes wondered if he, himself, knew how he did it. Was it pure instinct? Had he spent years learning the skill?

Dash chuckles darkly in her ear. “Hold on…” he says. There’s a pause, a ruffling of fabric, and then her message ringtone dings in her ear. “There you go.”

Tessa pulls her phone away from her ear and opens the message. She can see the generic, cream carpet of a hotel room, the corner of a row of curtains off to the side, and a desk with a suitcase thrown onto it. There’s a mirror, too. It only takes Tessa a second to realize that the picture is of Dash’s reflection, with the phone conveniently raised to cover his face. There Dash is, in all his glory, with his pants around his calves and his cock flaccid on his thigh. Even limp, it’s huge. Big enough to make her a little bit concerned about how anything could happen between them because he looks like he could rip her in half.

“Say, how many women have you killed with that thing?” she asks.

“None, I promise,” he says. “Trust me, I know how to make you feel good.”

Tessa had kept it impersonal, even asked about other women, but Dash had gone straight for the personal pronoun. So maybe their relationship wasn’t going to change much after all. Maybe this will be their thing—they’ll be friends when they’re within touching distance and sext-buddies on the side. She can’t imagine what else she could be for him. He’s a rockstar for crying out loud, and he could have any woman he wants. He’s probably knee-deep in groupies. He doesn’t need Tessa for anything other than friendship and a few cheeky texts.

After a brief flash of disappointment, Tessa decides that it’s probably for the best. She’d been hired to write about the band, not fuck one of them.

“With a weapon like that, you’d better know how to use it.”

“The trick is to start slow,” he says. His voice goes even deeper until it starts to remind her of warm caramel, and the fact that Tessa’s got her phone pressed to her ear gives her the illusion that he’s speaking close to her. “Get you nice and wet for me. That can take a while. Hours, sometimes. But you’re worth it.” Tessa’s breath does not hitch. But she does press a hand to her crotch to try and slow the throbbing that’s already started. “It helps to get you to open up, too.”

“What do you use for that?”

“Fingers, tongue, maybe a toy if you beg me for it.”

It’s becoming increasingly clear that Dash’s voice might just kill her. It’s probably a good thing that they’d only exchanged messages in the past, and not had long, drawn-out conversations.

“I’m not a beggar.”

“I’d make you beg twice, just to prove how much you fucking want it.”

Her message tone pings again, and she regretfully pulls her phone away from her ear to look at the picture. It’s the same frame, except now Dash is at attention and clearly stroking himself. Holy shit, he looks so good like that. Dash has always looked good, in all of the images he’s sent her, but there’s something about seeing him in the mirror and hearing his voice in her ear that promises to wreck her if she lets it.

“And when I’m done begging?” Tessa says once she’s had her fill of the image.

“Then I’ll stretch you a little more, just to make absolutely sure you’re ready for me.”

“I’ll probably try to kill you.”

“Baby, you’ll barely be able to move by the time I’m done with the foreplay.”

Tessa is definitely starting to feel the effect of his words. All she wants to do is rip off her jeans and take a picture of her pussy, just to show him how wet he’s making her with just his voice and his pictures. In fact, her fingers start toying with the edge of them, getting ready to slide them down—

And then… someone knocks on her door.

“Shit!” she says, standing up quickly as though even sitting on the bed might be too incriminating. Dash’s voice goes silent as Tessa takes a moment to breathe and swallow before calling out, “Who is it?”

“Jackie.” Tessa wants to cuss her little sister out, but she reins herself in. “Sam’s gonna be late. Can you drive me to practice?”

“I… yeah, sure. Just give me a sec.” She scuffs her sock on the carpet and turns her head to speak to Dash, whispering, “I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay,” Dash says, and his voice doesn’t sound annoyed. He sounds completely understanding, though a little breathless. “Text me when you get home, and we can pick this up where we left off.”

“You’re very... accommodating.”

He chuckles darkly. “Only the best for you, Tess. Talk soon?”

“Talk soon,” she replies.

Tessa hangs up, straightens her blouse, and checks her mirror to make sure that she’s not too flushed. Then she steps out of her room to take her sister to skating practice.