Page 14 of Feels Like Forever
“Hold that thought” I reach into my pocket, pull out the device, and see Tysen’s name light up on the screen. “I gotta take this. You can put your bags in the bedroom. There’s a small closet. I’ll make my way through the groceries.” I squeeze her side one last time before backing away.
“Take your time.” My eyes stay on hers as I hit the accept button with my thumb. She takes her suitcase and grabs her tote before taking the short trip to the bedroom.
“What’s up, Tys?” The phone is to my ear, using my shoulder as I start rifling through the bags and finding different cabinets to place everything. While this is anupgrade from my last van, it’s still on the smaller side compared to a pull-behind camper or RV.
“Not much, just checking in. I know you’re doing your own thing, but nobody’s gotten a response in the group chat or when we’ve messaged you individually.” Fuck, he’s not wrong. I’ve dropped the ball. Yesterday, during the concert, service was at a minimum. By the time I got back to my place, did my thing, and checked on Ronnie, it was too late to respond. Still, there’s no excuse as to why I didn’t take ten damn minutes out of my day to text them back.
“Yeah, Ronnie’s here with me. I’ve been a little preoccupied. Sorry, man.” I put the extra drinks in the fridge, replenishing what I went through yesterday, along with the fruits Ronnie insisted on needing. I guess there were things I forgot, after all. Though, I’m a man, eggs and bacon for breakfast, a piled-high lunch meat sandwich with chips, and then whatever I can pull together for dinner is good for me.
“Ah, that’ll do it. No worries, man. Enjoy your time. I’ll put the word out to the group. Everything’s good here, women, babies, work, and life. Come around next week. Mom’s been wanting to see you.” Shit, it’s been too long since I’ve been by to see Momma Retta. She’s going to kick my ass if I don’t get over there this week. Besides, had it not been for her and Tysen’s dad, Carter, I’d have more than likely ended up in foster care. I shake my head. Going down memory lane will do nothing but fuck me up.
“Thanks, man. I’ll stop by and see them this week,” I tell him.
“Call beforehand. She’ll make a spread and send you home with enough for both you and Ronnie. Later, Jude.”Tysen isn’t mincing words. He’s speaking his piece, and that’s about the size of it.
“Later, Tys.” I hang up and drop my phone to the counter.
“So, umm… I think I might have brought a smidge too much, and I hope you don’t mind, but I kind of commandeered the closet.” Ronnie comes out, squeezing beside me before flopping down on the couch with a look of disgust.
“It’s all yours, Foxy. My shit is in the drawers.” I hang back, leaning on the counter while I wait her out to see why she’s irritated.
“This couch is terrible, Jude.” It didn’t take long to see what has her panties in a bunch. Ronnie is moving this way and that way, trying to get comfortable. “It’s hard, and not in the orthopedic way, either. There’s no way you’re sleeping on this contraption. Damn, you may as well lie on concrete.” Her facial expression doesn’t change. Her nose is still scrunched up, her lips are pursed, and her blue eyes are squinted as if the sun is trying to beam down on her.
“It’s not terrible. Been on worse.” Fuck, the call with Tys is bringing up shit that’s better left buried.
“We’ll go back to that. I’ll sleep here. You’re taking the bed. Plus, there’s no way half your body doesn’t hang off the edge.” She squirms in her seat again. It probably doesn’t help that there isn’t a pillow or a blanket to try and add some kind of cushion to it.
“Or we can share the bed. It’s big enough. There’s no reason we can’t bunk together, Ronnie.” Her facial expression changes quickly. I go to put my hands up in surrender when I’m interrupted.
“Why are you saying my name like that instead of calling me Foxy?” That’s a great fucking question. Probably to get my point across and make her see the light.
“Foxy, will you please sleep in my bed with me? I’ll get on my knees and beg if I have to.” I lay it on thick, walking toward her, and I’m rewarded with a tease of a smile. There’s no way I’m not getting my hands and mouth on her.
“That’s better. And yes, Jude, I’ll sleep in your bed with you, but no hanky panky business.” She wags her finger at me. I fall to me knees in front of her. My mouth nips at the digit, biting it at first before sucking on it to take away the slight pain.
“You stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine.” I pull her closer. Her thighs fall open, and I wedge my torso between them. My mouth attaches to hers. The kiss I’m planning on giving her won’t be over for a long-as-fuck time, either.
10
RONNIE
“You good, Foxy?” Jude whispers in my ear. We’re at the rail once again, my arms are up in the air, my body is swaying from left to right, and Jude is behind me. We made it to the rail in record time before the crowd surged, and the only reason I’m not getting slammed with each wave of people jumping around is because of the man who’s caging me in.
“Hell yeah,” I say over my shoulder. We’re both wearing hats, protecting my eyes from the sun. The blue orbs are nice and all, but the sun is a killer with them, too. Jude has one on as well, except his is backwards, and he lost his shirt an hour into the day. Now his skin is kissed by the sun, a light coat of sweat is glistening on his chest, and the multitude of tattoos he has on just about every inch of his body is being shown off. It almost makes me growly when women openly gawk at him. Apparently, I’ve become quite the territorial female.
While yesterday, we were fortunate that the heat wasn’t unbearable, the clouds helping hide the round yellow star, it’s not the same today. There isn’t a reprieve in sight, and the hose the festival crew uses to spray the crowd with water has been heaven sent.
“That’s my girl.” His teeth nip at my earlobe, and the bubbling of desire he’s kept simmering on the surface rises.
“Are you still okay with heading out after this band?” I ask while the singer takes a break. The heat ramping up has made us drink water, jug some type of electrolyte drink, and frankly, it’s worn me out. I’ve realized it’s a good thing that Jude worked his magic for the upgrade in tickets. I also off-loaded my parking pass to another individual. They were about to pay for a spot, and I handed it to them. The smile they gave me was plenty in the form of payment from the group of teenagers.
“Without a doubt.” We’ve both seen the headlining band a handful of times, and while it’d be awesome to see the performance they put on, we both decided taking it easy would be for the best. There are still two more days of events left, plus the heat index is only supposed to rise.
When I purse my lips, Jude realizes what I’m after, and I drop a quick kiss to his lips before turning back around.
“Rock the Nation, are you ready!” the lead singer screams into the mic. The rift of the guitar follows suit, getting the crowd amped. When the drummer picks up his sticks, beating on the cymbals and pounding his foot on the pedal, shit gets wild, people start screaming, crowd surfers pick up, and I start dancing.
“So far, so far, so fake,” Vic Fuentes from Pierce the Veilstarts the lyrics. His voice is instantly recognizable—a mix of rawness, vulnerability, and urgency. The tone, his timbre, the range, and the way he can deliver has put them on the map.
