Page 35 of Crimson Desires

After using the restroom, I washed my hands and ambled to the front of the bus.

Kane and Damien were seated at the table. Damien was scratching something out in a black notebook, and Kane was looking over his shoulder, nursing a cup of coffee. There were two other cups of coffee on the table, along with a bottle of Excedrin.

As soon as Kane noticed me, he smiled.

“Don’t worry, Aster. I’ve got you covered.” Kane pushed one of the two cups of coffee toward me and tapped the cap of the Excedrin bottle. “Caffeine and painkillers. A touring rock star’s best friend.”

I thanked him, sitting down gingerly to his left. I washed down two pills with a swig of coffee.

“Are you working on lyrics?” I asked, pointing to the notebook.

Kane hummed his confirmation. “Yep. Album two’s already in the works.”

“That’s exciting. What’s this album’s story?”

“Story?” Damien asked, raising a brow.

“I mean, your last album was a concept album, wasn’t it? It was about newness and turning chaos into harmony.” I felt my face heat up a little. Damien was staring at me with increasingly wide eyes, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. I backpedaled. “I guess that could’ve been totally unintentional. But you seem like too thoughtful of a person to make an artistic choice like that subconsciously.”

Damien was silent for a moment. Then, he smiled.

“You an artist?” he asked.

“Used to be,” I said, sheepish. “Why?”

“You talk like one.” Damien pointed to his notebook. “I agree with how you interpreted our first album. I think it was about coming together for the first time. Combining our diverse experiences, sounds, and inspirations into something entirely new. Into Wicked Crimson. But now that we’ve started to hit our stride, I’m thinking that this next album will be more about relationships. Toxic, healthy, stable, reactive, boring—I want this album to come from a place of emotional vulnerability.”

I nodded along. I was fascinated by Damien’s explanation. It reminded me of when I was in art school. I remembered listening as my classmates explained the methodology and meanings behind their final projects.

After Damien finished rambling, Kane nodded at me.

“You know, that’s the most I’ve ever heard Damien say to someone who wasn’t one of the guys. No wonder Jack likes you.”

“Although, you’re clearly out of his league,” Damien said.

I blushed. It wasn’t every day that I was complimented by literal rock stars. Somewhere deep inside of me, a fifteen-year-old girl was losing her mind.

As Kane and Damien returned to their lyrics, I let my mind drift. For just a moment, I allowed myself to daydream. To toy with the idea of sharing a life with Jack. Of sharing a future with him.

I imagined spending weeks on the road with Wicked Crimson. Learning all about the band’s artistic process. Waking up every morning in a different city wrapped up in Jack’s strong arms. Spending lazy afternoons talking about art with Kane and Damien.

As much as I hated to admit it, it almost sounded fun.

I stopped myself before I could fall too far into my fantasy. Continuing to delude myself with what-ifs would only serve to break my heart.

This could never really be my life. Just like I could never really be with Jack Maverick.

Dad needed me back home to take care of him. It would be selfish for me to leave him behind. Plus, even though Jack liked me now, it would only be a matter of time before he found another girl that he liked more.

A girl that wasn’t guarded. A girl without sharp edges. A girl that wasn’t broken.

Eventually, Jack would fall in love with a gorgeous celebrity, a talented singer, or a charming supermodel—because why wouldn’t he?

And I would end up heartbroken and alone and believing in love even less than I believed in it now.

From a young age, I learned that love was selfish. That it was unreasonable to expect people to stay for you. Relationships were only ever as good as the necessities that forced them together. Nobody with the power to leave a relationship would ever choose to stay in one. Especially if they knew that there were more promising lands elsewhere.

People were opportunistic by nature.

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