Page 44 of Backstage

“Can we talk?”

“What about?” I answer more harshly than I intended.

“I want to apologize for the way I treated you the other night...I didn’t mean to say you’re shallow...” She looks guilty.

“So what? What were you implying?” I cross my arms angrily. I really don’t know where this conversation is going to end.

“I can’t separate sex and feelings. If you’re just looking for a fuck, it will ruin the rest of the tour for me because I’m going to keep seeing you with other women, and it’s going to bother me. I don’t want to spend the next few months pissed off because I couldn’t keep my legs closed,” she says with disarming sincerity.

I didn’t see it that way, I have to admit. I thought she assumed it was my fault, but it never occurred that she wasn’t comfortable seeing me every day. I never worried about what a woman feels after I slept with her, and I feel guilty for not putting myself in Lilly’s shoes.

“I don’t think I just want to have sex with you,” I said with a frown. The weird thing is that I really don’t care about any other woman but her...and there are a lot of women on tour.

Lilly smiles and shakes her head. “I don’t think I’m ready for you to find out what you want from our relationship,” she says with a half-smile.

“What do you want from me, Lilly?” I ask her, honestly. I’m tired of guessing.

“To get to know you.”

The words come out with a disarming simplicity that almost makes me light-headed, my heart pumping with fear and excitement. No one has ever expressed the desire to know me, at least not a woman. Everyone has always wanted something from me, sex, exclusive parties, fifteen minutes of fame, but getting to know me has never been on their list.

I grab her by the wrist and pull her closer, holding her in my arms. She’s so tiny and perfect as she clings to my body, and when her arms wrap around my waist, I feel like I can’t escape this bus anymore. Despite her slender figure, she manages to keep me anchored to this place like no other has ever managed to do before.

“It could really suck…what you find out,” I confess in a moment of sincerity.

“Don’t you think you should let me be the judge of that?”

Yeah, but I’m afraid she might run off to another country when she comes face to face with the truth. “I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

Lilly looks up and nails me with her eyes. “Damian, I’m not one of those little girls who think the rock star’s life is magical and perfect. You’re human; you’ve made your own mistakes. It’s not a big deal. From what I’ve seen so far, you’re not that bad, and I’m not afraid to find out more.”

Her sincerity and dedication in trying to break down my walls, one brick at a time, frightens me.

“Okay, but I warned you. At this point, you continue at your own risk.” I cut her off when I feel the pressure in my chest is too much to handle.

Lilly gives me a smile and steps away. I immediately feel her absence as if my arms have become accustomed to her warmth.

“It’s enough for now. You’re so stubborn that this feels like a victory,” she laughs, and I feel more relieved.

“Come on, let’s join the others. This afternoon Evan is pampering us for a couple of hours, so we’ll show you how to live like a rock star,” I push her towards the exit to prevent the conversation from diving too deep into my life again.

*

“When you told me you were going to give us a taste of the rock star life, I thought you meant wild parties with booze and drugs. I had no idea,” Lilly giggles as we enter the spa pool that Evan has reserved for the next two hours.

I laugh and have her sit on one of the loungers next to Thomas, Michael, and Simon, while Martin joins Luke and Taylor in the pool, bombing and splashing water everywhere. Kids.

“Trust me, you will have enough of parties. You’ll get nauseous from going to them, and you’ll find they’re not that much fun. In the end, you do it as part of your job with people you don’t want to see sober, let alone drunk,” chuckles Thomas, who followed our conversation.

“Yeah, okay, I realize it’s not nice to spend time having orgies, but Simon is readingThe Great Gatsby, and Michael is...carving wood?” I’m puzzled.

On the other hand, I can’t take my eyes off her shorts and a shirt that’s a little bit lower on the neckline than usual.

“Look, it’s a classic. Why shouldn’t I read it?” Simon asks, pretending to be offended. He’s actually a man who reads an indescribable amount of books. Luckily, they’ve invented e-readers, or we wouldn’t have room on the tour bus to move.

“Okay, but Michael is carving wood with a pocketknife. This is nothing I’d expect from a world-renowned rock star,” she insists, amused and surprised.

Michael looks up and laughs. “I know, it’s an unconventional pastime, but it relaxes me and, at the same time, allows me to train my concentration. Do you have any idea how hard it is to carve out a squirrel’s eyes without slipping and making it one-eyed?” he asks her, drawing attention to his work of art so that she can admire it.

---