Drive(58)

“No,” Ben said before Reid could utter a word. “Shut the hell up, Adam. Our Yoko’s behind us,” he continued as he passed out shots, no doubt referring to Lia.

I reached out and double tapped Adam on the forehead. He jerked back, spilling half his shot. Reid chuckled. “And this one can take care of herself,” I announced as I glared at Adam. “Take that back!”

“My apologies, my lady,” Adam said sincerely, as he tapped his glass with mine. We took the shot and the rest of the table followed.




That night, while Reid was in the shower, I peeked at some of his lyrics. I couldn’t help myself. His library was vast, and I was buzzed, so it sort of, kind of, gave me permission to make shitty decisions. I grabbed the book he’d been scribbling in, anxious to get inside his head, and my heart stopped. Heavy tears fell as his words blurred, and I wiped my face to soak them in. Some of them were just random whispers and incomplete thoughts. Rage littered several pages, and I could see he wrote them heavy-handed. And the most recent pages were songs.

Three songs about suicide.

Two songs about sex.

And the last song was about abandonment.

It read far too obvious between his desperate lines; he was battling demons I’d never met.

“Stella?” Reid’s voice was low as I dropped the notebook and scrubbed my face with my hands. “I’m sorry. But I get it now. I get how personal it is, okay? I’ll never do that to you again. I won’t push. Just give me the chance to prove it.”

I couldn’t look at him. I had violated him in a way that I couldn’t take back. I was done at that moment, done pushing. The aspiring journalist in me was disgusted; the woman who was in love with him was terrified.

Reid stood over me for a moment and then pulled me to my feet.

“You’re telling me that’s the first time?” Shocked at the even tone of his voice, I met his stare and eagerly nodded.

“I fully expected you to have gotten through half of them by now,” he said with a twist of his lips.

I couldn’t find it in me to smile, not with the flash of his angry soul floating around in my head.

He gripped my chin and forced me to look at him. “I told you I was in a fucked-up place.”

My lips trembled. “You said you were still there.”

He blew fresh breath in my face, and that’s when I realized he was still dripping wet, and naked. “So you aren’t mad?”

“I’m fucking pissed, but it’s a new state of normal being with you,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ve never in my life met a woman who needed to know so much.”

“I’ve never in my life met a man who wanted to tell so little.”

“Match made in hell,” he said as he bit my bottom lip. Sensing my unease, he shrugged. “They’re just songs, just an outlet, Stella.”

“Okay,” I said, kissing his chest, eager to get as close as I could. I offered him my lips, which he took and devoured, igniting the flame. We got lost, and I got naked. I clawed and tasted before I met his hungry eyes and kneeled at his throne in worship. He hissed through his teeth as I took him in my mouth. I gripped, sucked, licked, and stroked, starved as he cupped my chin, his eyes on fire, and began to thrust his hips. His mouth parted. I moaned and felt him thicken with each pull. Massaging his sack, I bobbed and gagged, taking him fully, and felt his whole body shudder. “Fuck, goddamn,” he said, guiding my head as I felt the heat grow in my belly and spread between my thighs. I’d never been so turned on in my life. The sound of our mixed sounds had me dripping in anticipation. I drank and drank until he clutched the back of my head and his orgasm rolled down my throat. Still kneeling, I looked up at him with my hands on my thighs. He gripped the top of my arms and pulled me to stand before he lifted me to straddle him, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Grenade.”





Santeria

Sublime



The next morning, I made Reid eggs with chorizo and fried potatoes. Because of the heat, we both decided to stay in and do nothing until our shift. Reid was at his counter eating a second helping while I dug through his lyrics.

“Oh, I love this one. God, Band Nerd, you really are a poet.”

“Which one?” Reid said, shifting on the counter to glance at the notebook.

I thrust the notebook at him. “‘Trust’, I love it. It’s really good.”

“I have to rename that,” he said. “And I don’t like the guitar riff I wrote with it. It’s too mainstream. I have to have Rye work that out.”

I gave him my best snooty French accent. “And zee guitar riff is too mainstream.” I picked at a non-existent piece of lint on my T-shirt and flicked it before I deadpanned, “Could you be any more pretentious? And, hey, Ace, when are you going to learn to take a compliment?” I faced him head-on as he smiled before he took a mammoth bite of his eggs, his hair covering his dimple. I hated when that happened. But I loved it when he smiled.

“Well?” I said.

“God, you love to argue,” he chided as he threw our dishes in the soapy water I had waiting.

In a few days, I’d be in my own place, and I savored every moment we played house. I was under no illusions our living situation was permanent. We’d been forced together, but I had to admit, we were thriving under those conditions.