AllFreeNovel
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Problem is, I was only nineteen.
Enter Nolan and her magical methods of persuasion.
She not only helped me get into the club that night, but we managed to hit it off—despite the mental breakdown I had that resulted in a mix of snot and tears ruining her shirt. She wanted me to meet her the next day,because every girl needs a fake ID, and when she found out I was living out of a hotel, she insisted I come live with her. I tried to refuse, but when she whined about being alone in such a big house all the time, I caved.
Was it reckless moving in with someone I’ve known for only a matter of a couple days? Definitely. But when your only plan is to leave to save the life of the guy you’re in love with, you tend to make some shitty choices.
Luckily, this one worked out.
Everything I have, including my job, is because of her. She was there for me while I cried about things she still doesn’t know about, and she distracted me from the times where I wanted to just take my chances and go back home. She even had her dad pull some strings to get my foot in the music industry door.
No one willevercompare to Mali, but Nolan’s a pretty decent alternative.
She sits up, with her tits full on display and zero shame, and I look away as I chuckle. That’s the thing about her. Modesty just isn’t in her vocabulary.
“You’re free to go,” she tells the masseuse. “Unless Laiken would like a massage.”
I stare up at the ceiling as Nolan puts her shirt back on. “Nope. I’m good.”
She snickers. “You’re such a prude. What would you ever do at a nude beach?”
“That’s the thing. I’d never go to a nude beach.”
I look back down to see that she’s clothed now, and her lips are pursed. “You really should. I could call Daddy have a jet ready in an hour. We can be in Ibiza by tomorrow.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I groan. “Babes, how many times do I have to tell you that every time you call himDaddy, it sounds like you’re talking about asugardaddy?”
She cringes the same way she always does. “Right. Gross. Mydad.”
“I appreciate the offer,” I say through a small laugh. “But I have work tomorrow. We still have four more songs to record before the EP is ready.”
Her shoulders slump. “That’s no fun. It would be so much better if you would just travel the world with me.”
It’s the same disagreement we’ve had many times over, and one I’m not going to budge on. “I want to work.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “No onewantsto work.”
“That’s not true.”
Sure, maybe people don’t want to work at a job they hate, but I’ve seen plenty of people love what they’re doing while they’re working. And I genuinely love my job. It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.
I just wish I had Hayes to share it with.
The day I sold my first song, all I wanted to do was call Hayes and tell him about it. When everyone else laughed at my dream and told me I was being unrealistic, he believed in me. He listened while I sang the same three lyrics over and over as I tried to figure out what wasn’t right about it. He celebrated with me every time I finished one. But he wasn’t there.
And that’s all my fault.
I laid in bed that night and imagined all the things we would have done. He probably would have taken me out to dinner and whispered in my ear how he knew I was going to make it happen one day. There would have been flowers and champagne, with the stipulation that no one knows what a romantic sap he can be. And of course, the night would’ve ended with him making me scream as I came more times than should be possible, because that’s the only music he ever wanted to hear.
When that song was released, I wondered if he heard it. Or if he knew it was about him. Because he’s the subject of all my songs—with the exception of one I wrote just to release my anger at anonymous life-ruiners, but that one will never see the light of day. It would only come back to bite me in the ass anyway.
I haven’t heard anything since the day I left, when I texted them and told them I did it. That I walked out on the love of my life in the middle of the night, shattering his heart and mine in the process. There hasn’t been a single message. A single note. It’s been radio silence, but the fear they’re still waiting for me to fuck up hangs over my head like a guillotine, keeping me away from my hometown.
But if I could, I’d go back in a heartbeat.
“Laiken?” Nolan softly asks, and I realize she’s halfway down the hall. “Are you coming?”
“Where?”
