Bad Rep (Bad Rep, #1)(72)

I was mortified that I had sunk to that level.  I had just become “that girl.”  The nasty, tear another chick's hair out, you-were-looking-at-my-man, kind of girl.  I hated those girls but damned if I hadn't morphed into one.  Just call up and get me a seat on Maury.  Because that's where I was headed.  So not only had I gone all territorial over a flipping guy, but I had also just rubbed my “sister's” face in the fact that I was currently dating said guy, her very recent ex-boyfriend.  It was like tap dancing on someone's grave.  It wasn't right.  What happened to chicks before dicks?  Oh that's right, Jordan Levitt happened.  Jordan and his beautiful face and his stupid hot tattoo and piercings.  I grumbled at my foolishness.  Then I just became depressed.

I forgot about scrubbing the rest of the stamp off of my hand and headed back to Riley and Damien.  “What took you so long?  I thought one of the bikers had eaten you,” Riley quipped as I sat back down.  I gave her a wane smile and she frowned at me.

“What's wrong?” she asked, cutting straight to the point.

I opened my mouth to answer her when the lights dimmed and a guy announced Generation Rejects.  The spot lights shown on the stage and Cole grabbed the mic, growling low.  The crowd pushed its way to the front and I could see Milla, Talia and Olivia at the foot of the stage.  I had to admit, Olivia looked hot in her tiny black dress, her hair falling perfectly down her back.  I hadn't really taken stock of her get up while we were shooting eyeball daggers at each other in the bathroom.  But now, looking at her with her perfect little body and effortless beauty, I felt kind of slutty in my outfit.

The band launched into one of their many covers and the place went wild.  I tore my eyes from my sorority sisters at the front of the pack and tried to focus on the four guys on stage.  Because they were good.  Damn good and I couldn't deny the raw magnetism they exuded.  Cole was a looker alright and he played front man with aplomb.  His dark, shaggy hair and five o'clock shadow were sexy as hell.  Mitch and Garrett weren't hard to look at either.  Mitch had the whole dark and mysterious thing going on while Garrett was the wild man of the group, bouncing to the music and wagging his tongue suggestively at the girls in the crowd.  But it was the drummer who maintained the heartbeat of the music.  It was impossible to look anywhere but at him.

Jordan wore a collared button down white shirt with the sleeves ripped off.  Very Patrick Dempsey in Can't Buy Me Love.  Retro and hot.  His face glistened with sweat as he beat the hell out of his drums.  His transformation into rock god was fascinating.  It was so complete and total that it was hard to imagine him as anything else.  It was like he lived and breathed the music he played.

I allowed myself to get lost in their performance.  I loved seeing Jordan like this.  His passion was evident, even from this distance.  I wanted to push myself forward and dance with the rest of the people here.  But I didn't want to deal with Miss Too Tight Dress and her cronies, so I stayed where I was.  I couldn't stop myself from watching her watch him.  She obviously knew the set well, singing along to most of the songs.  She looked the part of the rock star's girlfriend, whereas I looked like a child playing dress up in my stupid leather skirt and trying too hard boots.

About thirty minutes into their set, Cole addressed the crowd.  “Now we'd like to take it down a notch.  This next song was written by the resident sex god himself, Jordan Levitt!”  The crowd roared and my stomach clenched tightly.  I had almost allowed myself to forget the bits of the conversation I had overheard in the bathroom.  The part about the song.  The one Jordan had written for Olivia.  Fuck.

Milla and Olivia were going crazy, dancing their asses off as Jordan started to beat out a sensual rhythm.  The muscles in his forearms stood out as he smashed his drumsticks down onto the kit.  The song started slowly, like the slide of a lover's hand down your body.  It was tantalizing and seductive.  Music meant to turn you on and get you wet.  And Jordan had written it for Olivia.  This would not make me feel the warm fuzzies.  Of that I was sure.

Riley and Damien had gotten to their feet, their arms curled around each other as they swayed together.  Couples were pairing off, touching and grinding.  Everyone responded to the primal beat Jordan laid out.  If just the music made me feel like this, I knew the lyrics would destroy me.  Maybe I was being overly sensitive but something instinctual took over when I realized Jordan had written a song for Olivia.  Even though it happened way before I came into the picture. I felt an irrational sense of betrayal.  And if I took the time to examine it closely I would realize it was because I loved him, sort of desperately, and I wanted all of his songs to be about me.  And only me.

I was nuts.  That's all there was to it.  I had to get my head together or I would lose my shit right there.

I watched in transfixed horror as Cole wrapped his hand around the mic and bent it low, looking into the crowd as he began to sing.

You lie your head on my arm
your heart in my hand.
Lost in your eyes,
I have become a man.

Your body sings a song
Only I can hear,
Etched in the dark of my soul
Losing you is what I fear.

I've searched so long