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“Look Van, you know me,” Rhys interrupts, his eyes on the horizon. “You know I don’t care about being possessive or any of that shit. Alyssa is free to do whatever she wants with her body, whenever she wants. Besides, it’s not like this would be the first time I’ve been in a three-way relationship. It can be a lot of fun if everyone’s honest about it.”
“Then why do you look so down right now?” I ask.
“Because I knowyou,” he replies. “And this situation would have to includeyou. I know how weird you are about romantic relationships, too. If this were just about sex, I don’t think you’d really give a damn, but it’s clear that you have real feelings for Alyssa. I’m sure you think that means that she should just be wrapped around your little finger for the rest of her life, which means if she ends up going with you then I’ll never get to be with her again—”
I cut him off. “I’m okay with it, Rhys.”
“…What?” Rhys’s tone is lined with shock. “What do you mean? You don’t mind?”
“You’re right. I do have feelings for her,” I admit. “But…after we hooked up in the hotel room, I couldn’t stop thinking about how it might’ve hurt you, how being with her might’ve been enough to tear the band apart. Alyssa wasn’t worried about it though, because she said we were all just different sides of the same shape, that we complete each other.”
I sigh before I finish with my thoughts. “And I think she’s right, Rhys. I think…even if it might seem kind of fucked up to other people, we aren’t them, and this isn’t a normal scenario. The band is all of our dream. We are in this together. And because of that, having a romantic relationship with Alyssa makes more sense to do it all together rather than apart.”
I pause. Maybe what I’m saying is crazy, but I’ve never felt anything on a deeper level than this. “I don’t know. I think there’s just something about her that fits with all of us, like she’s the glue we’ve been looking for. And it wouldn’t really work if either one of us tried to keep her tied down.”
“Bloody hell, what about Cameron? He is really going to hate this.” Rhys chuckles. “You know how much he hates bringing romance into the band world. He barely wanted to come with me to the symposium to try and get Alyssa back in my life.”
“How do we know Cameron isn’t off somewhere with Alyssa right now?” I smirk. Anything is possible, after all.
“Yeah, right!” Rhys chuckles again. “Even if he were, the guy keeps his sex life so under wraps that we wouldn’t know about them hooking up until like, next year. Honestly, I don’t even know if he has a sex life. He never says anything about it.”
“Well, either way, I doubt Cameron’s going to really give a shit about things with Alyssa, especially if we seem a lot calmer when we’re back in the studio.” I shrug. “If all he knows is that things are peaceful again, that’s probably all he needs to know for now, anyway.”
Chapter 12
Alyssa
There’s no coming back from what I just said on that rooftop.
I just never know when to shut up.
I’m pacing around the hotel room, my arms crossed over my chest, anxiety filling my every step. I don’t know why I decided to blurt out the honest truth of the situation, highlighting my utter inability to choose between Rhys and Van when it came right down to it. But now they both know how I feel.
And they both know what I like in bed, too.
“Oh my God,” I mutter to myself, coming to an abrupt stop mid-pace. “Oh my God. What the hell is wrong with me? Why did I ever think any of this was okay?”
I groan before flopping down against the mattress, my hands flying up to cover the shame that’s burning on my face. If I were still back home, I never would’ve done anything like this in a million years. Who is this girl hooking up with one guy after the other, letting Rhys Marshall fuck her in a conference room, letting Van get her off by dirty talking about how much she wants to get fucked by other guys, too.
Who am I anymore?
I mean, I’m still Alyssa Smith, right? I’m still just a girl from a small town with a big dream who got lucky enough to get a shot at her big break in L.A.? I’m still best friends with Marina, and still feeling like I’m somehow coming in second place to her, too. On top of all of that, I’m a pretty badass songwriter, and I know how to write memorable lyrics, the kind that people think about getting tattooed on their arms.
But…is that really who I am?
Because I know that if I asked someone like Geesha Riley, she’d say that I was a shameless boyfriend-fucker, just another one of Rhys’s bedwarmers. And I have a feeling that if she found out about Van and me, she’d label me as the thot of the century, just another sex-obsessed L.A. transplant, a poser whose biggest talent is spreading her legs for her own bandmates—
No.
I have to stop. This has to stop.
I can’t just sit around beating myself up. What for, anyway? For enjoying myself for the first time in my life? For having sex with men who actually care about what I like in bed, what I want them to do with my body? I shouldn’t be trying to punish myself for craving the pleasure they give me, and I’m not going to feel bad about wanting it, either.
Because why wouldn’t I want Rhys’s hands all over me?
Why wouldn’t I want Van’s hands all over me, too?
Pretending that I prefer one over the other would be a total lie and trying to deny the way I feel about either one of them would be an even worse one. Although, now it’s going to be up to Rhys and Van to try and figure out if either of them still want to be with me, or if my inability to choose is enough to drive them both away—
