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I wanted to destroy him while he wore one of those skirts.
Fuck.
I shoved him off.
I couldn’t do this.
Not and be who I was.
So I either needed to kill all the parts of myself my father gave me or find a way to not need Aspen.
FIFTEEN
Aspen
The first taste of him came nothing like I’d imagined. Angry. Aggressive. Stormy.
It hurt him.
His grip on my jaw was painful and arousing.
He tasted of alcohol and sea air. Amber and hints of white floral. Unlike anyone I’d ever kissed, male or female. Like he was the magic key to get me off. I’d never felt more from a single kiss.
As fast as he’d finally kissed me, he was gone.
He left, and I didn’t bother chasing him.
It wasn’t my job to convince him to want me. As badly as I wanted him, I deserved better than talking him into wanting me.
My lips burned, and I ached with the taste of him. Never in my life would I believe I’d get here.
Fame—sure.
Rehab—also adds up for my life choices.
Anger management—checks out.
Therapy—I’d known that was the direction I was heading since I realized it wasn’t normal to be terrified of my parents.
My best friend kissing me to end an argument where I’d called him homophobic—never.
* * *
I prepared a whole rant for when he returned about how homophobes were just assholes in the closet who didn’t want to face their sexuality. So kissing me really didn’t prove the point he wanted it to, but it died on my tongue.
I was too tired to chase him tonight.
I woke to the sun streaming in through the windows. It was already high in the sky. I hadn’t slept in this late in as long as I could remember. After the group home and then living on the streets, I was accustomed to being up with the sun. It never worked well with the rockstar lifestyle and the hours the rest of the band kept, but I was used to being sleep deprived too. Nothing kept you awake, like fearing for your safety and then the night terrors that followed.
I stretched out, and my skin rubbed over tiny grains making the sheets feel like sandpaper.
He was right. Sand in the bed was annoying.
I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of telling him.
I’d just shower before getting into bed next time.
I turned on the water, letting it heat and fill the massive bathroom with steam while I stood in front of the mirror. I needed a haircut and to shave, but I didn’t have the energy for either. My roots showed under the red, and soon, the color would fade, and with it, all the joy I’d gotten from my stage persona.
