Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 32051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32051 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 160(@200wpm)___ 128(@250wpm)___ 107(@300wpm)
“Shit. Sorry,” he says.
“No sweat. Go say hi.”
“We’ll be out of here in a sec. I promise.”
I watch as Cash makes his way over to the group of fans. He hugs them, takes some selfies while doing the sign of the horns, and even lets two of the girls kiss his cheeks.
He’s his natural charismatic self, and they all love it.
I wonder what it would’ve been like had we tried to make the long-distance thing work. Considering I didn’t date the first two years of college, I probably could’ve pulled it off, but I don’t know how I would’ve handled seeing this kind of stuff on social media—photos of him with people from gigs, looking all happy and having fun.
It’s hard enough watching from a few feet away.
I grab his hat that fell on the ground and make my way closer to them just in time to hear them say, “Who’s that you’re with? Is he famous too?”
I huff. “Nah, I’m no one.”
Cash turns to the group. “Actually, he’s the inspiration for the song we debuted today.”
“The ends of the earth one?” a girl asks.
“That’s the one,” Cash says easily.
They squee and say how sweet that is, but their high-pitched excitement is drowned out by the awe and shock over Cash acknowledging me in public.
I have no idea what to expect. Cash’s orientation isn’t a secret in the media. He wasn’t one of those celebrities who had to come out in some big interview. The clip that went viral that was his “coming out” was of paparazzi asking him if it was true he was gay. Cash just laughed as he made his way to his car, surrounded by camera flashes and other questions being thrown at him. But at the last second, he turned to the paparazzo, wore his trademark smirk, and said, “I didn’t realize it was a secret.” He got in his car and drove off before they could get any follow-up questions out.
I must’ve watched that clip a million times. It made me feel proud and achy at the same time.
When that happened, it’d been seven years since I’d seen him. Five since I cut him off.
I missed him. I wanted to contact him.
But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
Self-doubt and worthlessness wouldn’t let me.
The reason I went to Wharton was because it was what my parents expected of me. I’d already majorly disappointed them by being gay. I figured the least I could do was go into a stable and reputable profession.
Cash was my inspiration to chase a different dream. Granted, it got sidetracked, but the reason I got to explore the world was him.
He finishes with his fans and walks back over to me, cocking his head. “What?”
I place his cowboy hat on his head. “You.”
“Me, what?”
Leaning in, I kiss his cheek. “Just you.”
Chapter Seven
Cash
I’m sure Locke and I look like a couple of lovesick fucksticks as we walk back to the tour bus. The plan is to grab some stuff for me for a few days and drive off into the sunset in Locke’s car.
That plan almost turns to shit when we climb the bus steps and are met by my band. My family, basically. Other than my mom.
Greg and Jasper don’t pay much mind. They have groupies hanging off them.
Seb and Thorne, however. They glare daggers at Locke.
“Guy who broke your heart or the one you’re going to bury yourself in for days to get over the guy who broke your heart?” Seb asks.
“Wow,” Locke says. “They’re my options, huh?” He rubs his jaw mockingly. “Can’t I be both?”
I snort.
My man can stand on his own and throw down with my friends?
Where has this guy been all my life?
Oh, right. Avoiding me.
I can’t say that I’m not upset by that, but I’m definitely on the road to forgiveness. A few more times of being fucked by that amazing cock of his and I’d probably even forgive him for stabbing someone.
Why he’d be stabbing someone, I don’t know, but that’s not the point.
The point is, I don’t care where he’s been. I don’t care what he’s done. All I care about is that he’s here with me.
“Everyone, this is Locke Emerson. Locke, this is our manager, Thorne.” I point. “My lead guitarist, Seb, drummer, Jasper, and bass player, Greg. The girls are … people I’ve never met before.”
And by the look of Jasper’s and Greg’s faces, they can’t even tell me their names.
Nice.
“Ah,” Seb says and stands from his seat at the table. “So, he showed up after all …” He approaches and puffs his chest out in some form of supposed masculinity.
I shove him. “Back down, Seb. No big-brother shit, okay?”
“But I like torturing your boyfriends. It’s entertaining when they get all squirmy.”
I narrow my gaze because I don’t have boyfriends. I have one-night stands. And groupies.