Take Me with You (Take Me #2)(60)

“That’s f*cking right she’s not,” I growled possessively.

Next to Nic, Joey leaned back and crossed his arms. “How did you end up with a little innocent thing in Jersey when you have so many options on the road?”

“I wouldn’t say Ari is a sweet, innocent thing anymore,” Miller said, struggling to keep a straight face.

“Oh, f*ck off, guys!”

They all laughed, and it felt nice for once to relax with the bands, knowing I’d be getting some ass tonight.

Then, Donovan walked in. “What’s so funny?”

“We’re talking about Grant’s girlfriend. She’s coming to the show tonight,” Ridley filled him in.

Donovan arched an eyebrow at me. “Is she bringing another guy again? She seems to have a new one at every show.”

“Don’t make me punch your f*cking face again.”

Donovan smiled at me and held his hands up. “I was trying to clarify the facts here, bro.”

“Come on, D, we’re having some fun,” Trevor piped up. “Have a beer and chill out with us. We have a full day off after this to get f*cked and f*cked up.”

Donovan looked over at me for a second. It was in that moment I realized what had f*cking happened. Donovan had been such a punk-ass bitch lately that even his own bandmates preferred to hang out with me and my bros. Donovan and I had done nothing but argue these last six weeks, and now, he wasn’t even f*cking welcome to f*cking chill with us.

I lifted my shoulder in affirmation, and Donovan pretended not to notice. Of course he would.

“Sure, man,” he said. He slapped hands with Trevor, who passed him a beer, and then he slid into a seat.

Just like that, all the animosity of the past couple of months dwindled between us, and as long as Donovan would stop acting like a motherf*cker about Ari, then we could stay this way.

An hour later, the crew was already busy putting our set together, and we were doing the sound check. Once everything seemed ready to go, I made sure to reserve two front-row tickets for Aribel as well as backstage passes for her after our show.

By the time the show was about to begin, I couldn’t keep from f*cking bouncing with energy.

Vin punched me on the arm. “Dude, f*cking chill out. If I’d known you’d start acting like a f*cking freak, I never would have given you Ari that night.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Is that what you think happened? You gave her to me?”

He shrugged. “Steered you in her f*cking direction. I’m the man.”

“You’re such a douche bag.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “But you f*ckers are happy or some shit. In the long run, no harm, no foul.”

No harm, no foul?

He was f*cking lucky there had been no damage done. I’d just f*cked some random chick I probably would have f*cked if I were sober.

“Ready?” Miller asked, sidling up next to us.

“As ready as we’ll ever be, bro!” Vin cried.

“She didn’t bring the girls with her, did she?” McAvoy asked.

He leaned forward to try to get a glimpse of the audience. I wasn’t sure if he was asking because he missed Gabi and wanted to see her or if he was asking because he was afraid to see her again.

“Nah. It’s just Ari.”

He nodded his head and crossed his arms. “Cool.”

The lights flickered, and then the room went black. That was our cue.

We wandered onstage and received cheers from the audience. I slung my guitar over my head as the lights rose.

I walked right up to the microphone, yanked it off the stand, and said words that had never been truer, “Boston, it is so f*cking good to see you tonight!”

The crowd went wild. Despite the sold-out show and thousands of people cheering for us, my eyes went straight to the front row, looking at the pair of enormous blue eyes staring up at me from the most beautiful face I’d ever seen.

Ari.

Her smile was radiant, and she only had eyes for me. It took everything in me not to vault off the stage, capture her lips in a searing kiss, and cart her ass off with me.

“We come from a tiny little town off the Jersey Shore.”

There were more cheers.

“And this is our first time ever playing in Boston, so send us some love. This is ‘Hemorrhage.’”

Then, I poured all my love for Ari into the guitar. Even though I was singing about getting the f*ck out of Jersey, all I really wanted in that moment was to return home with her.

My memory didn’t hold a candle to the magnificence that was Grant McDermott. It was a hazy outline, a foggy sketch to the masterpiece.

From my spot in the front row, he towered over me, clad in tight-fit dark jeans and a V-cut red T-shirt that made me want to drool. He always wore dark colors, so seeing him in a delicious red made him absolutely edible. His hair was a little longer and wildly finger-combed. All I could think about was running my fingers through it as I kissed him until he was breathless. His dark eyes kept shifting back to me, and I warmed everywhere. In those brief moments, I could imagine us completely alone—just me and Grant.

His eyes were like molten lava, burning away my clothes and seeing through to my heated body. I’d never felt such desire for someone before. Watching him perform usually made me appreciate him more, but I was flat-out turned on.