Emily

Working Saturdays is bullshit.

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, frowning. I’d been up until the wee hours of the morning talking to Ethan, and the dark circles under my eyes served as evidence that I hadn’t slept, even after I’d gotten off the phone.

I couldn’t help it. I tried. I tossed and turned and punched my pillow into submission, but—for the second night in a damn row—I kept replaying my time at his loft in my mind. It wouldn’t stop. I was back there in his studio, his hands on my hips as I’d straddled his lap, pressing me harder into him. I relived the feeling of his breath on my neck and the way his tongue barely grazed my bottom lip as he forced himself to break away before we went too far.

Jesus, he’d ripped my shirt off with such vigor that my buttons had shot across the room, and the fabric had come apart at the seams.

That was the hottest damn thing that had ever happened to me.

And he’d just been getting started…

Lying there thinking about what might have happened if we hadn’t stopped had gotten me so aroused that I’d had to, well, relieve some stress. I pictured his face, his soft, warm lips, and his incredibly hard length as it had pressed into my palm. He’d been so ready, so desperate for me—more than anyone I’d ever been with. It made me feel so alive—so electrified—to know I’d gotten him that turned on. It was an embarrassingly short time before I was shuddering and panting his name in my empty bedroom.

Even an Ethan-fantasy-induced orgasm wasn’t enough to lull me to sleep, though. I eventually gave up well before dawn and went to the kitchen to make coffee. Dammit looked up at me from his cushy dog bed in the living room and turned his back to the bothersome kitchen light, huffing slightly and drifting right back off to sleep. Even the dog knew it was too damn early to be up.

But I couldn’t help it.

I was consumed and enamored.

No.

In trouble, is what I was.

And in over my head.

Never mind that he was famous beyond words or that he was leading a total double life that I had to help keep secret; he also had a life he had to get back to. He’d left for a second time, and even though he’d be back soon for a few weeks, he was going to leave again after the holidays.

Sure, he had a place here, but he had obligations that took him away for most of the year. Who knew when he’d be able to return or if he would even want to see me when he did?

Where did that leave me?

Alone, like I always knew you’d be. My mother’s voice was even more grating when I was sleep-deprived and under-caffeinated.

I knew it was my own self-doubt that I heard in my head. But negative thoughts always sounded like her because every damn word she ever said to me was a put-down and a judgment of everything I was or ever dreamed to be.

Sometimes, though, the voice—no matter how much I hated it—was right.

I’d probably end up alone.

Rock stars weren’t exactly known for monogamy.

But Ethan was also an artist. A beautiful, introspective, empathetic soul.

He wouldn’t purposely hurt or use me.

If he was only after sex, he could have found that literally on every corner.

He could have found it with me in his loft.

But he hadn’t. He’d stopped himself, which both frustrated and impressed me.

The problem was, even if his intentions were good, the situation was a recipe for disaster. Flirting and texting, the occasional phone call in between, that had been one thing. But when he flew across the whole damn country just to spend the day with me—to keep me company and distract me from my sadness without even pressing me for details about that specific date? That was something else entirely.

But where could it possibly lead?

He’d be traveling the world, playing music or recording albums and doing promo stuff, and I’d be here, waiting for those fleeting moments he was able to give me in between.

You’re acting like you’re already a couple, Emily. A few admittedly searing kisses and some desperate groping does not a relationship make. Sure, he came to look after you, but he put on the brakes when it was time to get physical, like maybe he thought you might mistake it for more than it was. Maybe he really does just want to be friends. Albeit, with the ‘benefits’ part still a possibility in the future.

That voice was all mine, which only made it worse because it was totally rational. And plausible.

Damn. I didn’t want it to be right, though.

I wasn’t a friends-with-benefits kind of girl.

I couldn’t be.

Especially not when it came to Ethan Chase.

* * *

My phone dinged an hour or so later. The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, and I was barely peeking over my coffee cup, not sure I even had the energy to get the damn phone from its charging spot on the end table. I needed to start buying stronger coffee. I’d heard mention of some dangerously potent stuff Arthur had found at a shop while on vacation in the Outer Banks. I yawned for the tenth time in as many minutes and decided to ask him for the brand, so I could order some.

Another text came through, and Dammit lifted his furry head, giving me a sleepy look that basically said, “Get off your ass and make that noise stop.”

He wasn’t into mornings any more than I was.

Poor pooch.

I mustered the energy to peel myself off the couch and trudged over to where my phone was plugged in, removing the power cable and scanning the messages.

Dana: I hope you’re happy, bitch. I was so mortified by my reaction to the video call that I didn’t sleep all night. I look like shit this morning, and it’s all you and your new BOYFRIEND’S fault.

Dana: Oh, and I’m so happy for you, you lucky ass. I’m just a grump when I haven’t slept.

I laughed and hit the call button, not trusting myself to type coherently with so little sleep.

She picked up on the first ring. “I hope I woke you up, trollop.”

“Bite me, hooker. I was up all night, too.” I smiled at our banter. It was always said with love and humor, which was a comfort. An odd comfort, but it worked for us so we went with it.

“Banging the drummer?”

I thought of the T-shirt Ethan had offered me and cracked up. “Sadly, no. He’s in LA, remember? But we did talk on the phone half the night.”

“What is this, junior high?” she grumbled.

“Grouch,” I muttered, sipping my cooling coffee. “And before I forget to correct you on those texts, Ethan is not my boyfriend, and you have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Bullshit,” she countered.

“Which part?”

“All of the above.”

I rolled my eyes and started toward the kitchen to refill my coffee. “So, you freaked out a little when you saw his face. It’s not like he’s never witnessed anything like that before. He’s probably forgotten it already. And besides, I told you how well my first meeting with him went, right? No way you could do worse than that if you tried.”

She scoffed and slurped her own coffee loudly in my ear, something she did specifically to annoy me because she knew how much I hated it. “He let yours slide because he wants to slide his—”

“Dana!” I coughed, nearly scalding myself with my newly-poured mug of liquid energy.

“Oh, please. Don’t play that innocent shit with me. Men like Ethan Chase are accustomed to certain…perks that come with stardom. If he’s spending time with you, there’s no way he isn’t thinking about the two of you fucking.”

“Jeez…” I mumbled, glad she couldn’t see me blushing. “I told you it’s not like that.”

“Yet.”

“Why are you so convinced—”

“That was the word you used, hooker, not me.” There was no mistaking the amusement in her tone.

“What?”

“When you were telling me about your so-called friendship with rocker boy at dinner, I asked if anything happened between you and you said, ’No, not yet. We’re just friends.’”

Shit. Had I said that?

“I don’t recall any such comment.” I huffed, hating that I’d slipped up.

“Why are you being secretive with me?” Her voice had gone from amused to wounded in an instant, and I cringed as a wave of guilt washed over me.

“I’m not. I can’t tell you something if there’s nothing to tell.”

She was quiet for a moment then sadly muttered, “Bullshit.”

Neither of us spoke for a while after that. Eventually, I heard her draw in a deep breath, and I knew she was going to give me some lame excuse to get off the phone. I couldn’t stand that I’d hurt her with my secrecy. So, I decided that I would at least tell her the safe portions of the story.

“I kissed him. A lot,” I blurted.

“You what?” Dana screeched, all traces of hurt gone from her voice. “Oh my God! Tell me everything.”

I couldn’t tell her everything, but I could at least share some of the key points because—one—she knew something had happened anyway and—two—I really needed to talk to her about where my head was at.

So, I told her as much as I could without betraying Ethan’s trust or outing him as Conspicuous, which made us both feel better. When I was done dishing the dirt, she did what she always does and zeroed in on exactly what I’d been stressing over all night.

“So, you’re really into him, and it scares the shit out of you because you know he’s gonna leave again.”

“Yeah.” I muttered, my smile slipping.

She contemplated a minute then offered, “Want to know what I’d do in your place?”

“Let me guess…saddle up and ride the hell out of him for as long as you possibly could?”

“Bitch,” she said, laughing for a moment before sobering. “No. I’d go into it not expecting more than he can give. You know he’s leaving after the holidays, and you know it’s not something he has the option to walk away from; it’s his career, his life. Even if he wanted to stay, he couldn’t. So there’s no point in even entertaining that as a possibility.”

“I know.”

“Just take it for what it is, Em. Have fun while you can. Talk on the phone all night if you want, bring him home and bang the hell out of him as soon as he gets back if you want. You can be his friend or his fling, but don’t expect to be his forever, babe. And don’t let yourself get too attached.”

I lifted my mug to my lips and frowned, my stomach doing an unpleasant little flip. I sighed, tossing the rest of my coffee into the sink. “There are worse things than being Ethan Chase’s fling, right?”

She chuckled, sounding relieved that I didn’t argue. “Hell yeah, things could be worse. You could be me, and trust me, you don’t want that. I haven’t been flung in forever.”