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"Things don't have to change." I stare back at him. "I can still come on tour with you this summer."
He shakes his head. "You've already decided to leave. Don't bullshit me about it now."
But this isn't bullshit. Things can stay the same. Why can't he see that?
His expression gets intense. "If you want to leave, do it."
My brow furrows. I hate to leave things like this. But I don't see what other choice I have. "Fine. I'm glad your dreams are more important than mine."
I stare back at him, waiting for a response.
Nothing. He just looks at me like I slapped him and told him I slept with his friend.
I can't talk to him right now. Not like this.
I walk out the door, sit in my car until I'm calm enough to drive home, and wait for him to apologize.
All night, I wait for him to apologize.
All week.
All month.
All fucking semester.
He never does.
Chapter Two
Ethan
The woman across the bar is staring at me with lust in her eyes. Is that oh God, he's hot or damn, this is my chance to fuck a famous guy?
No way to tell from here.
I shoot her a maybe you can fuck me look.
She sighs with pleasure. Her tongue slides over her lips.
She's objectively hot. Tight dress. Big tits. Dark hair in carefully messy waves. Violet always wore her hair like that, only hers was t
hat gorgeous shade of strawberry blond.
What the fuck? Violet's not getting space in my brain. Not tonight.
Nothing is knocking me out tonight. Not even that nagging feeling in my stomach, reminding me that I always feel emptier after.
That I miss how intimate sex felt with Violet.
Coming to our old hangout spot was a mistake. But I'm here now. I'm not gonna wallow. Either I take this woman around back and spend half an hour making sure we both enjoy ourselves or I go home and practice the songs I need to master before our show in San Francisco.
I run my hand through my dark hair—that always works—and shoot the woman another smile.
She looks me up and down, licking her lips as her gaze settles on my crotch. She's practically screaming I'd like to suck you off, anyplace that works for you.
At this point, I know the drill backwards and forwards.
She moves closer. Her expression gets nervous. Too nervous for I've never picked up a guy before, especially given her age. Nothing wrong with an older woman—she looks about thirty—but they don't usually get nervous picking up guys.
