Take Me for Granted (Take Me #1)(77)

“If I’m wasting it on a man who loves me, then I’d obviously be wasting my time with someone who doesn’t.”

And with that, I shoved past him, back inside, back through the crowd of girls, and out into the arena. I texted Cheyenne to let her know that I was getting a cab back to the airport. She seemed frantic, but there was nothing else she could do at this point. I just wanted to be back in Boston.

The clock chimed midnight soon after the plane touched down. I waited anxiously for a text message from Grant, like I’d gotten over Christmas, but it never came. I hadn’t wanted to believe he was with someone else, but somehow, his silence convinced me more than anything else ever could. When I got home, I crawled into bed, determined to forget Grant McDermott.

Chapter 45: Grant

I typed out ten messages to Ari but deleted them all.

She didn’t want to hear from me on New Year’s. She hadn’t wanted to hear from me on Christmas. She hadn’t wanted to hear from me every day before that. I should just give up and let her move on with her life, but I couldn’t.

I’d been onstage, singing the song I’d written for her, when it just hit me how f**ked-up all of this was. I was in love with her. I’d said as much onstage, but the lyrics had just driven it home. I was in love with Aribel Graham, and she wanted nothing to do with me.

After I’d finished the song, I’d stormed offstage, unable to continue. I was over it. I’d just wanted to be alone.

But no, even then, I couldn’t get what I’d wanted. Hollis had stopped me at the exit, wondering what the f**k I was doing. We weren’t signed with Pacific, and I was ruining my chances of ever getting picked up with them.

That was fine with me. If we got picked up, who knew when I’d get to see Ari anyway? Didn’t seem like a fair trade to me.

Hollis obviously hadn’t seen it that way. He couldn’t understand how I felt about Ari. He never would. He talked about girls the way I had before Ari. I might be a total f**king ass**le, but Ari came first. If by some f**king miracle I could salvage this with her, then I was going to do everything I could to make sure that was a possibility.

I’d had it out with Hollis backstage, and then I’d gotten into my truck and driven straight home. The drive had taken f**king forever since everyone and their mother was out in New York City for New Year’s, but I hadn’t cared. I’d just needed to get out of there. I’d needed to think, and I couldn’t do it surrounded by thousands of people.

Being all alone, holed up in my house, didn’t seem to help much either. I just wanted Ari here with me. I wanted to get a New Year’s kiss I’d remember. But if Ari didn’t want me around, I wasn’t sure how much more of my antics would change her mind. If it came down to that, I’d have to resign myself to move on.

Hollis hadn’t been the only one pissed that I’d walked out of the show. The guys had returned from the city early afternoon on New Year’s Day, and they had promptly gone about ignoring my existence every time I tried to talk to them. I’d f**king wanted to be alone to think, and now, they were giving me all the space I needed.

I wandered into the garage, and everyone seemed to have calmed down by the time regular band rehearsal was supposed to start. They were seated on the couches. McAvoy had his laptop open. He was the tech-savvy one of the bunch, and we generally just left him alone when he got in the zone. Miller looked up when I walked in, but Vin didn’t even spare me a glance. He must really be pissed.

I took a seat next to McAvoy. I decided to take a direct approach. “Sorry about last night.”

“What the f**k happened?” Vin asked. He looked like he’d doped up on steroids this morning, and he was even more of a loose cannon. “You just f**king left us out there. We had three more songs to go, and you ditched us! What the f**king f**k kind of band member ditches his band onstage with no motherf*cking warning?”

“I know. I should have told you guys.”

“You f**king think? You humiliated us out there!”

“I didn’t humiliate you,” I argued. “We played the majority of our set. No one even knew the difference.”

“Hollis knew the difference,” Miller cut in. “He was pretty pissed.”

“Fuck Hollis,” I said with a shake of my head. “I’m so tired of these label people thinking they can mold us into these perfect shapes. They can’t define us by dangling a contract in front of our eyes.”

Vin cursed under his breath, but Miller was the one who spoke up, “Hollis isn’t trying to fit us into a certain mold. He’s been pretty lenient as far as I’m concerned, and I like him. Now, after that performance and your argument, we might not get signed.”

“Good. I don’t want to get signed,” I said without thinking.

The silence in the room was deafening. Even McAvoy stopped clicking away at his computer to look up at me. All of the guys stared at me with a range of shocked expressions. I’d never voiced that thought out loud to anyone before. I hadn’t even really thought about it much until recently. After the Frank Boseley incident, I’d been feeling more and more constrained by the pressure of fitting into a traditional record mold. Then, with the added fear of losing Ari, it had only amped up that feeling.

“You what?” Miller asked.

“I don’t want to get signed.”