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Cheyenne and I had a nice time but I was home and sprawled out on the couch by midnight. We’d ended our relationship on a good note, so it didn’t seem like a stretch to remain friends who occasionally hung out. Sex would’ve been easy but I knew without asking she wouldn’t be okay with that. If we weren’t together, sex was off the table, and I was oddly fine with being in the friend zone.
Probably because I had a hard-on for my new bass player.
Which made no sense at all.
I wasn’t looking for a relationship, and I wasn’t so hard up for sex that I needed to fuck around with someone I worked with. Someone I was potentially going to be in a band with for the foreseeable future. Someone it wouldn’t be easy to avoid once the sexual pull ran its course.
She wasn’t even my type.
The fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about her pissed me off.
I really wished we were back on tour.
This was one of the reasons I hated being home.
It gave me time to think.
Ponder my life.
The future.
All the things I normally tucked away since I didn’t want to deal with them.
I never had any answers, so what was the point of driving myself crazy?
The long and short of it was that I had an amazing life.
Instead of thinking about all the good things, I was fantasizing about a woman who was, for all intents and purposes, off limits. Not because anyone had said so, but because the smart, mature thing to do would be to keep things professional.
My dick had a mind of his own, though. Devyn wasn’t my usual type, but she turned me on more than anyone had in a long time.
And I was going to have to figure out why.
I didn’t sleep well and was up early.
Since I had nothing better to do, and I was out of a lot of things, I decided to make a Trader Joe’s run. I usually ordered groceries, and I had a housekeeper who picked things up when she came by on Mondays and Thursdays, but I was out of a few things I liked. And bored out of my mind.
Pulling on jeans and a Nickelback t-shirt, I stuck a Dodgers baseball cap on my head and headed out. The Maybach was too conspicuous for a Sunday morning at Trader Joe’s, so I called for an Uber. It was probably pretentious to have somebody drive me to the grocery store, but I’d stupidly gotten a vanity plate that said ONXKNGT, so I got recognized whenever I drove it and I wasn’t in the mood today.
Grabbing a cart, I’d just walked down the first aisle when a familiar figure brought my senses alive.
No way.
Was it fate or irony that Devyn was here?
8
Devyn
Sundays tended to be quiet for me. I usually got up early to take Greatty to church, and then we went grocery shopping together. We often cooked on Sundays so there would be leftovers for lunch for me, and it was also something we enjoyed doing together. She was under the weather today, though, so we both slept in and then I went to Trader Joe’s without her.
I’d just put a box of pasta in my cart when I felt a presence behind me.
“Hey.”
I turned and nearly stumbled into the man standing there.
“Kingston? Hi!” I came here almost every Sunday and had never seen him here before.
