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I close my eyes and get lost, needing these seconds, surrounded by a bunch of people I don’t know as the liquor swarms in my veins.
The crescendo of a cymbal brings me back to the present only seconds later, my eyes opening to see Bordeaux staring right at me, his lips making love to his microphone, our eyes locked on one another. I feel... something. I feel it so quickly that I almost miss it.
I feel alive.
More alive than I have when looking at a man in a very, very long time.
And that’s scary.
Thirteen
Isla
Selcouth (adj.) unfamiliar, rare, strange,
yet marvelous.
___________
Veronica bails at the very last minute for Manuel’s wedding, and I am fucking livid.
“What the hell do you mean, you can’t go?” I ask her, fuming.
“I feel like death, sis. You know I wanted to be there for you, so don’t act like I’m doing this on purpose,” she half-whispers and I can tell by the white pallor of her face that she isn’t screwing with me. I immediately feel like a dick for questioning her.
Mami and Dad left earlier in the week to help Manuel’s family prepare for his upcoming nuptials. Our families are still close, despite everything, and honestly, I don’t mind. I never see his parents, and Mami and Dad don’t talk about them. I can’t expect them to just up and dissolve a friendship because my relationship didn’t work out.
“I’m sorry. I could have used the support, that’s all. I don’t want you to go and feel like crap the entire time.” I shrug and look around her room, perched on the edge of her bed. “I guess I’ll go prepare for the two-hour drive alone.” I give her a soft smile, and she immediately looks like she’s just had the greatest idea of all time as a wide, lazy smile stretches on her face.
“You should ride with Bordeaux!” she says and I scoff. That has to be the dumbest idea I’ve—
My phone vibrates in my pocket and the ding! of a text message sounds simultaneously.
Bordeaux.
Does he have some kind of sixth sense or something?
I unlock my phone with the swipe of my finger and read it out loud.
Bordeaux: Hey. You don’t by any chance wanna ride down to that little hole-in-the-wall town together, do you? I know you can only handle me in small doses, but I could use the company.
We had talked about maybe riding together, but ultimately, we decided against it because I wanted to ride with my sister in her two-seat convertible.
“Of course, he could use the damn company,” I say out loud.
“Why are you so against this huge ass rockstar wanting to spend time with you? You’re a serious bitch sometimes,” Veronica mutters.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, genuinely confused. Sure, I do what I can to remain professional and I focus on my work as opposed to drooling over Bordeaux, but does that really make me a bitch?
“Dude. You’ve told me about several encounters, and all signs point to Bordeaux being seriously into you and you shoot the guy down every single time. He probably isn’t used to that.”
I throw my hands up in the air. “Exactly, V. He’s used to fucking anyone he wants and now that he can’t, he’s getting his rockstar panties in a bunch over it,” I tell her firmly, surprising even myself. Am I really admitting that I think Bordeaux wants to get in my pants? I guess I am. But she’s right; all signs do point to him wanting me for a night.
“And you mean to tell me you don’t want to know what a rockstar is like in the sack?” she questions. “You aren’t even a little bit attracted to the beloved bad-boy that is Bordeaux Daniels? What’s with this stone-cold bitch act you have going on? You know I can see right through that, don’t you?”
She braces herself up and onto her elbows, and her lips part again so she can resume her verbal batter against my character, but I shut her down.
“Of course, I think he’s hot,” I admit, remembering the way he looked on stage the other night and how his eyes on mine while he played evoked something inside of me. “He’s hot and he’s talented. He’s nice and down to earth... for the most part. I don’t see the bad-boy persona the media portrays.” Aside from him thinking he deserves every woman’s attention, that is. “And there you go with the bitch thing again. You see right through what, exactly, Veronica?”
