Page 42 of Backstage

“I’ve wanted to do this all day, but we’ve never been alone. I can’t go one more night without smelling your perfume on me,” he whispers with his eyes still closed. He kisses me again and makes me completely forget that we should be looking for water, not in an empty room making out like two fifteen-year-olds.

While his tongue explores my mouth with a passion that almost seems to devour him, his hands move to my hips and then around to my ass, pulling me into him; his boner more than evident. My body seems to move freely on its own, my brain on autopilot, my legs tied to his back with a little push and some help. A moan escapes his mouth and blurs into mine, making me lose control a little more. I arch my back and push my hips against his. I want to feel him on me. Damian moves, pushing me against the wall, his hips swaying to pleasure me in a way that makes me gasp.

He pulls away, to my enormous disappointment, and my lips are suddenly cold in the absence of his. We’re both gasping. His hands squeeze my ass in a firm and totally pleasurable grip. I hate that my jeans separate my skin from his rock-solid, calloused hands—so manly and sexy.

“I hate it when Sid makes you wear contact lenses at concerts. You look sexy as hell with those glasses. I have a constant boner in my pants whenever I see you wearing them.”

The first thing that comes to mind is that I’ll always wear them when he fucks me if he likes them that much, but then I think that if I let him go on like this in this closet, there won’t be a next time. It’s the cold shower I need to calm my nerves.

I unhook my legs and push him away, reaching down to the floor with my feet. I can’t stand very well, and luckily the wall behind me holds me up. Damian looks at me puzzled, it’s clear he doesn’t understand what’s going on.

“We can’t keep going,” I say with conviction.

He wrinkles his forehead and tilts his head to the side. “Why?” he asks, trying to reach my hips with his fingers, but I put my hand on his chest and keep him at a distance.

“Because you’re gonna fuck me, then you’re gonna push me aside like you do every other woman, and I’m gonna have to live with the fact that I have to deal with you every day. I can’t do that,” I say straight up like I’ve always been with him.

Damian takes a step back, his eyes dark and frowning. “Is that what you think of me? That I want to fuck you and then dump you? Is that the opinion you have of me? I thought you knew me, or at least got to know me a little during these past months.”

He seems almost offended by my statement, and I feel a little guilty. “Isn’t that what you do with everyone?” I ask with sincere curiosity.

“The problem is that you’re not ‘everyone,’” he spits angrily before grabbing the door handle and walking out calmly, slamming it behind him.

I pissed him off, and I don’t even know how. What the hell just happened?

I’ve been avoiding her for two days, since she told me the other night that she’d never sleep with me because it would just be a fuck. It hurt. It was devastating; I thought I was more important to her. I don’t know what I’d do after I slept with her, but I’d certainly still want her around. She’s not like the others, and she’s definitely not someone I’d ruin a relationship with, especially because we work together. This insecurity is frustrating, I’ve never experienced it before, and it knocks me off my game more than it should. I thought I’d learned how to control this life and my emotions. I don’t know what to do when they get out of hand.

“You’ve been a pain in the ass for two days,” Thomas says, sitting down next to me at the bar. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

We’ve just finished the gig, and we’re having a beer just outside town to get away for a bit. I shrug my shoulders and sip from my bottle. I can’t look him in the eye because I already know there’s a lecture coming. “Nothing. How should I know?” I answer grumpily.

But Thomas pays no attention to my bad attitude or my words. It’s so strange that I turn and look at him after all. He usually doesn’t let up on me in these situations. “Is it because of Lilly?” he asks. “Did something happen between you two? She’s been acting weird too.”

Thomas is the practical guy in the group, the one who cleans up our messes, and he recognizes a potential problem that needs to be addressed. “Nothing happened. I kissed her a couple of times, that’s all.” I’m minimizing it. It’s actually a real mess. We’ll never get out of it if we don’t talk about it. I’m aware of that, but my stubbornness wins.

Thomas doesn’t answer, making me turn to him for the second time. He’s studying me like I’m a periodic table, and his gaze makes me fry on the spot. “You don’t just kiss. You don’t kiss at all. You fuck like an animal, and then you leave them waiting for you forever with a dumb smile,” he says seriously.

He’s my best friend, and he knows my modus operandi, but he also knows why I do it. He knows my past, so he should give me a break instead of breathing down my neck. “I know, that’s why I didn’t sleep with her. She thinks I might dump her after I fuck her,” I explain.

“And you wouldn’t?” his tone sounds almost surprised.

This time I face him and stand up for myself; I’m tired of him sticking his nose in my business. “Why would I ruin a relationship that would fuck up the whole tour? I’m not that dumb.”

“You’re pissed off because she rejected you,” he says in a surprised tone I don’t like. He knows me well. Why is he pushing so hard?

“I’m pissed off because she thinks I would fuck her and then dump her like all the others,” I reply.

Thomas smiles, and that annoys me more than anything. “It’s the first time I’ve ever seen you lose your head over a woman. It’s fascinating, like watching a documentary about one of those rock legends,” he jokes.

“I’m not losing my head over anything,” I point out grumpily.

“You’re angry because she thinks you’re a whore, and it bothers you that she thinks that about you. You’ve never cared about what women thought about you. And you never gave a shit about anyone but yourself, but now you can’t get your mind off of her even when you’re not around her! Like I said— you’re losing your head over her. “

My eyes instinctively move to the corner of the room. Lilly is sitting at the table with her band in those jeans that fit her perfectly and that buttoned-up shirt that makes her boobs stand out. She even took out her contact lenses and put on her glasses, just to make me go even crazier.

“See what I mean?” Thomas asks me with a sincere smile, not to make fun of me.

“I don’t want relationships, you know that.” I raise an eyebrow and point out a concept that must have been clear to him for years.

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