Bullet(61)

“Come on, babe. Don’t be mad.”

“Seriously. Get the hell out.” And when he finally left, I leaned against the door. I couldn’t make the tears stop falling.

* * *

We didn’t have any more incidents like that during the fall. It was back to business—and love—as usual. Yeah, we were uncomfortable in the apartment, but we were playing some good gigs and getting to know a lot of fellow bands. We even played a wedding reception. The happy couple liked to bang their heads, as did a good many of their guests. I felt out of place without any tattoos or piercings, and that inspired me to get my first tattoo—just a simple tribal armband on my upper right arm. But in addition to the usual venues, we played a few strange gigs like that. I wasn’t complaining—Brad kept us working. The money from the music wasn’t great, but it was something. We were making just as much off our merch as we were the playing the shows themselves.

Money was tight, and Brad sat the guys down one day, urging them to find jobs. “It’s no problem for me, man, to withhold your part of the rent, utilities, and groceries, and then give you what’s left.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “So just do it. If we need more money, we’ll figure it out.”

Brad kept his cool. “You better hope I’m able to keep booking enough that it does cover all that shit. Otherwise, I’ll kick your ass out.”

Ethan just glared and lit up a cigarette. Oh, yeah. That was something else. I knew he’d smoked on occasion, but he undertook it as a regular activity that fall as well. I suppose it was a cheaper addiction to feed when compared with some of his other preferred activities. I didn’t know for sure, though, because I’d never purchased them myself.

One afternoon when Brad was at work and I had the day off, Nick and Zane had gone somewhere—to pick up some beer for that night after the gig maybe. I thought maybe it would be a nice chance for Ethan and me to just talk. Things were feeling strained between us, and I just wanted to discuss what was going on.

He was on Brad’s laptop in the living room, and he was oblivious to me as I walked into the room. It didn’t help that he had some Chelsea Grin blaring out of the speakers. He did that a lot, and I wasn’t sure why or how he was able to tune me out. He sat on the couch, and so I was able to walk in and sit next to him. He was absorbed, and so I decided to kiss his neck, get his attention. But that’s when I noticed what he was doing. He had up some Yellow Pages-type listing, and he had an entire page of people named Richards.

“Looking for family?”

As though he were pulled into the moment, he slammed the lid of the laptop down. “Nothing you need to worry about.”

I was taken aback. “I was just asking.” He set the laptop on the floor and kissed me with a hunger…or a vengeance. I’m not sure which. And he started unbuttoning my jeans. “Not here, Ethan.”

“No one’s here right now, Val.”

“I don’t care. They could be back at any minute. I really don’t want them walking in if we’re in the middle of making love.”

“Oh, is that what we’re calling it? Making love?” I just looked at him and then stood up. “Don’t you like it when I f*ck you?”

I could feel the anger rising in my chest. He was being a dick, something he’d been taking a shine to. “Fuck you.” I walked away, straight to my room. If nothing else, my relationship with Ethan inspired some killer lyrics and writing about it was good therapy, so I intended to do just that.

I heard him following me. Odds were he’d grab me by the arm and kiss me hard until I relented and grew amorous. It had happened enough by now that I knew that was usually how it played out.

Instead, right outside my room, he touched my arm. “Val, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m such an * sometimes.”

I was still stinging. “Sometimes?”

He answered me with a kiss, and it was sweet and soft. “I’m not really an * all the time, am I?”

I pursed my lips together, trying not to smile. The last couple of weeks, yes. He’d been a constant *. I raised my eyebrows but managed not to say a thing.

“Really?” He pulled me close, resting my head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Val. I just let everything get to me.” He kissed the top of my head. “I guess it makes me a real jerkwad.” He held me close. “Let me make it up to you.”

I muttered up against his chest. “And just how do you plan on doing that?”

I could hear the smile in his voice. “I have my ways.” He lifted my hair up off my shoulder and back and kissed the exposed skin on my neck. Damn it. In the short time I’d even been sexual, he’d figured out what buttons to push. Kissing my neck always made me melt and there went the anger. And his hands went straight to the button on my jeans again. I was at a melting point and wanted to insist we go to my room, but I was so hot at that moment, I did just want him to f*ck me. So I too was clawing at the button on his pants and not worrying that we still stood in the hallway just inches shy of my room.

He ripped my panties down, just barely enough for him to squeeze in. And he tried to sneak in without protection. “No, Ethan. Condom.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fuck me.”

“That’s what I’d like to do…but with a condom.” How I found the wherewithal to insist, I’d never know. And he was pissed, but he whipped his wallet out of his back pocket and snatched a condom out. He threw the wallet on the floor and tore the condom out of its package. Yeah…he was as desperate as I was.

I could still hear the music coming from the living room. It only added to my feeling of desperation—the hard, driving beat, the heavy guitar.

He lifted me up and slid me in and I gasped. Oh, God, yes. That was it. I heard a tiny moan form in my throat.

“Play with yourself,” he said.

In between breaths, I asked, “What do you mean?”

God, his eyes were sexy. “Touch yourself. Pretend I’m going down on you.”

I looked at him. Oh, God, yeah. That would make for an amazing orgasm, wouldn’t it? So as he slammed his lips down on mine, I did his bidding and shoved my hand between our bodies, snaking it down to the area that I knew now ruled me, dominated me. My head was shoved against the wall. His lips were mashed into mine, his hands holding me up under my arms, cutting into my skin. And yet it all felt so good. Then I crawled my fingers the last few inches until they were in that tight, sweaty space. As I felt my way around and discovered that little nub I’d never touched before, I let myself imagine Ethan working his magic on me. And how f*cking intense that was. He was in me, but I was lighting myself up. Holy shit. It was more than I could take, and I screamed in pleasure.

“That’s it, babe.” I kept rubbing myself as wave after wave caused me to clench against Ethan’s cock and even he yelled as he came. “Oh, my f*cking God,” he said as we finished, almost in unison.

I fought to catch my breath, and he rested his forehead on mine. I opened my eyes and smiled at him, trying to catch my breath. Then we heard Nick in the kitchen, clapping. “That was f*cking awesome, guys. Do it again.”

I was horrified. And then I remembered it was Nick, the guy I’d realized over the past year had no shame. I looked at Ethan again and saw the twinkle in his eyes and laughed. But then I got my pants back on…fast.

* * *

That night we played a gig at a venue we’d played in the summer and hadn’t seen since. It felt comforting to be somewhere familiar. It just so happened that Last Five Seconds was playing that night as well. The night started out fine—Ethan was still feeling loving, and now that our relationship wasn’t secret anymore, he had no problems putting a possessive arm around me when a guy so much as looked at me. He definitely had no issues with laying a heavy kiss on me when I least expected it. It wasn’t long, though, before I realized that his PDA that particular evening was thanks to a little bit of something he took. And, as usual, I didn’t know what it was he’d taken, but I knew it had loosened him up.

By the end of our set, he was done for. He refused to rest it off in the van, though, and walked off into the crowd in front of the stage while the rest of us hauled our shit offstage so the next band could set up.

Outside, I asked Brad if we should find him and talk reason to him. “He’s a big boy, Val. He makes his own choices, no matter how f*cking stupid they are. So you track him down in the crowd. Then what? You make a scene, telling him he’s too jacked to be out there? That’ll go over well. Yeah, why don’t you guys have another obnoxious fight like you always do, but this time why don’t you do it in front of the whole crowd? That’ll win ‘em over and make ‘em fans for life.”

I had no words. It hadn’t occurred to me that Ethan and I had been arguing loudly, but Brad’s words hit home. I knew Ethan had been pushing my comfort zones and smothering me, and I’d been pushing back. I hadn’t realized I’d been so vocal about it. Just hearing Brad say that made me realize I wanted to put a lid on it. I found it embarrassing, and I just nodded and dropped it. Out of all the people in the world, Brad was the last one I wanted upset or angry…especially if it was because of something I’d done.