Page 28 of Crimson Desires
“I know, Aster. Don’t worry about me. Everything at home is being taken care of.”
“You promise?”
“I promise.”
After that, Dad and I said our goodbyes.
I headed to the crew bus and sat in my seat. All the windows had been put down—but the inside of the bus felt like a sauna regardless. The combination of the heat, my full stomach, and the emergent anxiety that I felt over potentially seeing Violet made me nauseous.
I put my earbuds in and blasted an AC/DC album. As I listened to the fuzzy distorted guitars and the wailing vocals, I tried my best to put all thoughts of Jack out of my brain.
And for just a few moments, it worked.
Chapter Eight
Jack
I lounged back on the faux-leather tour bus couch, Metallica blasting over my headphones.
Back when I was a kid, and too young to indulge in the usual celebrity vices like smoking and drinking, I often found myself turning to music whenever I was upset. Particularly, metal.
I liked that it was loud and intense. I liked that it was raw. I liked that it was distracting enough to keep me from going down a rabbit hole of my own thoughts.
After what had happened with Aster this morning, it was more necessary than ever.
I just didn’t understand that girl. Every interaction with her felt like one step forward and two steps back.
Maybe kissing her hadn’t been the best idea, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel guilty about it.
The feeling of her full lips against mine, her soft hair between my fingers, the way I could feel her body reacting to my touch. God, it was like I’d taken a hit of a drug—and now all I could do was wallow in the withdrawal and itch for more.
Though, I wasn’t too optimistic about Aster letting me kiss her again.
Even though I could be forward with my flirting, I would never force Aster to do anything that she didn’t want to do. The problem was, I could tell just by looking at her that she wanted me just as badly as I wanted her.
But she was a master of getting in her own way. An expert at denying herself the happiness she deserved.
I wanted to change that. But could I?
Kirk Hammett’s shredding stopped abruptly as my headphones were yanked from my head.
My eyes shot open. Irritation surged through my veins.
“Dude, what the fuck?” I snapped.
Axel dangled my headphones just out of my reach. He grinned. “How come you haven’t told us all the nasty details of your night with Aster?”
“Because we didn’t do anything.”
“No way,” Zephyr scoffed. He squinted at me. “Did you seriously not fuck?”
“Of course, he didn’t. Why do you think he’s acting so bitchy today?” Damien replied, his lips drawn into a wicked grin.
“Shut the fuck up, all of you,” I said.
Damien gestured at me. “Exhibit A.”
“Well, if anyone deserves to know if Jack scored, it’s me.” Kane gave me a pointed look. “After all, you kicked me out of my hotel room for your dumb little scheme.” Kane was born and raised in Texas, so he had a slight southern lilt that made “my” sound like “mah.”