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I walk into my kitchen and marvel at the cleanliness of it. Bright white walls with black cabinets and gold hardware. It’s what I picked out and I love it. It’s the most beautiful kitchen I’ve ever been in. I can’t cook to save my damn life, but it’s nice to pretend I can, especially in a place that looks like this. Spence flashes through my mind, quickly followed by Kade. I roll my eyes and grab the Oreos out of my pantry. Oreos are the best comfort snack, and if anyone tries to say otherwise, they’re wrong, plain and simple.
Unwillingly, my mind drifts to seeing Kade for the first time in a year. Kade and the way he looks so much like Spence. He’s handsome, and apparently, still the cocky guy he always was. He’s fully aware he’s good-looking, and he uses it to his advantage. I successfully avoided him all night—aside from the bathroom incident. Really, it made me feel better about him being on the Rebellion team. I can stay away from him… even when I’m in the same room he’s in. It might work after all. We caught each other’s eye a few times during the night, and I know he wants to have a conversation—and he’s right, we should have one, especially after the little stunt he pulled at the wedding—but I’m glad that didn’t happen tonight. I’m glad I was strong enough to not just fall back into the same old routine and pattern he and I used to have.
After I pour a glass of milk and strip down to nothing but my bra and panties—quite literally the best perk of living all by myself—I kickback on my sectional and start dipping my Oreos and flipping through television channels. My flat screen is almost as wide as my living room wall—purely a splurge—but one of my favorite things to do when I’m not touring is watch really bad romantic comedies. I love getting lost in fake love, and I love happy endings. I try to be a badass, but secretly, I just want someone to look at me the way Tom Hanks looks at Meg Ryan in You’ve Got Mail. I want someone to try as hard as Adam Sandler does with Drew Barrymore in 50 First Dates.
Okay, that may be pushing it. But can’t a girl dream?
I remember the day I met Spence Reid. I was friends with him before I dated Kade. We met in the library our freshman year. I didn’t seek him out; in fact, I had never seen him before. My mom and I had just moved to Chicago from California after a scandal in my high school that tore my family apart and almost ruined me.
And then I remember the day I met his brother. The day I went shopping with their mom. The day their little sister Noelle and I first bonded over our love for Taylor Swift.
I remember the moment I changed the course of my, Spence, and Kade’s life.
“Whaddya say, DJ?” Kade smiles at me, and while this might not have been the direction I saw my life heading in, I can’t say I’m disappointed.
I look over at Spence and his stupid girlfriend, Jasmine, and the way they’re all over each other in the pool. Rolling my eyes, I look back at Kade. His well-defined muscles from years of two-a-day football practices. An older man who could certainly teach me a few things. I can’t deny the little butterflies that take flight in my belly when Kade gets that look in his eyes. The one that screams, I want to devour you.
A small part of me nags on my conscious. I shouldn’t say yes. I shouldn’t say yes. I should not say yes. But why not? Spence is never going to see that I’m into him. He’s got Jasmine, and I won’t try and mess with that. I may be in love with him, but I’m not a home-wrecking whore.
Kade has been trying to get me to go on a date with him for months. The least I could do is go to the movies with a hot guy. There’s nothing to lose.
Right?
The old, familiar ache rises in my throat, and I realize I’m still dunking the same Oreo, getting lost in old thoughts. When I go to pull my cookie out of the liquid, it crumbles and plops into the milk.
I freaking hate wasting a perfectly good Oreo.
I’m done thinking about them tonight. Done obsessing over Spence and Kade. Through with feeling the way I feel. I’m going to have to get my shit together because if I want to be looked at like the woman in rom-coms are looked at, I’m going to have to get over all the shit in my past. I’m going to have to open up and attempt dating again. And that’s terrifying.
The biggest issue of trying to date is the fact that when you’re a famous rock star, the lines get a little skewed. Who wants me for my fame? Who wants me for my money? Who really wants me for me?
I pull out my phone and tap on the Raya app.
Raya is essentially the Bumble, Tinder, or Match.com for celebrities. An outsider would think that it makes dating easier, but a dating app full of celebrities can be much worse than one with non-celebrities.
I swipe through several definite noes just by their photos. It’s not even just about their appearance, although if anyone says appearance plays no part in lust or love, they’re liars. It’s about the photos they choose. One of the guys, a contestant on the hit television show Big Brother, has a profile photo of him and his well-known ex. That screams avoid for so many reasons.
“Okay,” I say out loud to my Oreo cookies, “I’m doing three more swipes, and then I’m going to sleep.”
My first swipe is none other than Jax Demond.
Fucker.
Jax is one of the most sought-after producers in the game right now and has been since around the time our band was formed. We worked with him on our first studio album, and he made a pass at me when we were alone. When I politely refused, he didn’t take no for an answer. It took me literally punching him in the face while simultaneously kicking him square in the balls for him to take a hint. And that was after he had already forced his tongue down my throat. Thank God he didn’t get to do what he was clearly setting out to do.
Jax ruins Raya for me for tonight. I close out of the app, stand, and put my Oreos back in the kitchen.
Fuck dating, anyway.
I hear a chime signaling a text message as I get ready for bed. It’s after one in the morning, so my first thought is Mom. Something has to be wrong.
I leave my main bathroom and search for where I threw my phone, finding it on my bed next to the book I’ve been reading each night before falling asleep. I let out a sigh of relief as I flip it over and see it’s just Spence.
Spence: Did you make it home okay, Dec?
I toy with whether to answer him or not. Part of me wants him to think I’m mid-fuck, screwing Drew senseless. That maybe it would be his lightbulb moment, and he’d get googly eyes like Tom Hanks.
Doubtful.
