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CHAPTERSEVEN
In the morning, I wake up alone. With a groan, I roll over to the side table and grab for my phone to check the time. A whopping three minutes before my alarm is set to go off. I slam a heavy pillow down on top of my face and groan again. The pillow smells of him, even through the strong scent of the hotel soap we used last night, he’s right there underneath; he’s always there.
I inhale deeply and feel myself harden almost instantly as flashes of last night flood my brain.Something about him always brings me to my knees. Last night had satiated my hunger for him temporarily, but I’m instantly needy all over again as the smell of him fills my nose.
After I gave Drew his gift, he gavemea gift in the shower. We had gotten clean as fast as possible, and then before I could wash the suds from my hair, Drew had gotten onto his knees and taken me into that fucking mouth of his, rubbing his tongue ring on the underside of my cockhead, delighting in the way he made me curse and cry out with his name on my lips.
He touched himself while he swallowed my length over and over until my eyeballs threatened to stick to the back of my head. After that, he stood up and turned me around. We’d brought my lube with us into the shower, and in no time, I was lathered up and prepped. The pleasure was blinding. He begged me not to come, but between his mouth and his cock, I came undone faster than I care to admit. He took his time with me, and I didn’t mind at all. I kissed him everywhere I could reach and darted at his tongue with mine, even though my head was bent at an awful angle. When he came, he bit at my shoulder to keep himself from screaming.
I have never deserved Drew. Not ten years ago, and not now.
I force myself to take a cold shower to clear my head and make my hard on disappear. In the shower, guilt spreads over me. I don’t know if I feel this way because I constantly cheat on Lizette, or if I no longer care that I constantly cheat on her and feel guilty aboutfeelingthat way. Somehow, I’ve come to rationalize the affair with Drew because we were together long before Lizzy came into the picture. Drew has always been mine; how do I give that up? All in all, it’s incredibly fucked up.I’mincredibly fucked up. I thud my head against the shower wall and sigh. My shoulders are tight, and my breaths are shallow.
There’s an engagement ring in my suitcase, and I have no idea how to prepare Drew for the inevitable. That thought alone takes me straight out of the mood. My breath hitches as I step out of the shower. My skin immediately rises with goosebumps. I refuse to look at my sorry ass in the mirror and make my way back to the bedroom.
For a moment, I stand in the middle of the room, the shame burning my chest. The sun has yet to come up, but the sky that peers into the room through a crack in the curtains is a hazy shade between gray and black, and I know the sun will rise soon enough. Water drips from what little chest hair I have, and I trail my fingers down my chest, remembering where Drew’s mouth had been. Where Lizette’s mouth has been. But if Lizette’s kiss is like a flickering match in the wind, Drew’s kiss is a raging wildfire. I turn on the Keurig for hot water and return to the bed. I sit down and check my phone as the water heats up. There are three texts.
Lizzy: Can’t wait to see you tonight, babe!
Mike the Manager Man: Be on the bus in 30.
Drew: Thx for my present.
The only one I want to respond to is Drew.
He’s the only one I don’t respond to.
I change into my bus clothes after swiping on some deodorant—sweatpants, a ratty t-shirt, and a beanie. I fasten my Apple watch to my left wrist and put my bracelets on my right. I pack up what little I have out in the room, take my cup of hot water, and make my way out into the hallway.
At the elevator, I run into Mike. He smiles and nods at me.As we wait for the elevator to reach our floor, Trish and Brian come out of their rooms with their bags. They look like they stayed up way too late. Trish massages her temples, and she’s sporting leftover eyeliner from last night’s show. Brian has bags underneath his eyes that make it seem like he didn’t sleep at all.
“Please tell me there’s coffee on the bus.” Brian yawns with exaggeration, stretching his dark brown, muscular arms above his head in a deep stretch.
Mike scoffs. “When is there evernotcoffee on the bus?”
Brian shrugs and yawns again. I sip at my water and cringe a bit. It needs lemon, and it needs to be a few degrees cooler. But after last night, I knew I’d need my warm water regimen today.
The four of us make our way down to the ground level, a little scrunched together in the elevator with our bags. I take the sunglasses that I hung on my loose necklace off and place them on my head before the doors slide open. I hold my breath and send a silent prayer asking for there not to be any paparazzi.
“Don’t worry. The hotel manager had the bus park out back where the employees park so we can fly under the radar,” Mike says.
The doors open, and it’s early enough that the hotel lobby is empty; the sight has me breathing easier already. I love seeing my fans, but the paparazzi can be a pain in the ass. Like a bad cold that you can’t get rid of.
At the front desk, the manager, a balding man named Tom, leads us through a few doors and down a couple of long hallways until we reach the backlot.
Our tour bus, a giant red thing that we call Firecracker, barely fits. It’s parked in between the actual parking spaces, backed in, and ready for its next trip. As soon as I walk up to the doors, our driver, Justin, opens the doors for us.
“Thanks, man!” I call out to Justin as I climb the three steps up with Trish and Brian behind me.
“I’m going to go wait for Sean and Drew upstairs,” Mike says before walking away. “Lord knows those two will get lost immediately if left to their own devices.” I snicker and Trish rolls her eyes.
The three of us enter the dining area of the bus. There’s a small table that can seat six next to a small kitchen. Across from the table is a bench perfect for lounging. A pot of coffee and all of the fixings sit on the center of the table.
I move past the dining area and kitchen to claim my favorite spot at the back of the bus. It’s a plush loveseat next to the bunk beds in one of the two “bedrooms.” I toss my suitcase on the loveseat and make my way back to Brian and Trish. When I return, Trish is laying down on the bench and Brian is doctoring up his coffee, making it look so light it no longer resembles coffee at all.
After I slump down next to Brian, I finish off my water and pour a cup of Joe for myself. I’m really dreading today. I’m elated to be back on tour; I know that’s not what’s weighing me down.
It’s the ring I bought for Lizette. It’s the commitment that the ring symbolizes, and the heartbreak it will cause.
I should be excited to propose to Lizzy. Hell, I’ve spent countless hours trying to make myself feel that way. But now, I don’t even understand why I bought the fucking ring.
Lizette is not Drew. No matter how many days I’ve spent trying to convince myself that I can live a happy life with her, I always come back to Drew.
Even though my luggage is at the back of the bus, I can feel the ring screaming at me from its tiny box, begging me not to pop the question–but the only alternative is to not propose, which would break her heart and cause more harm than good in too many ways.
I want to be the person who can come clean about their actions.
I want to be the man Drew needs me to be; has always asked me to be.
I just don’t know how.
