Feral

Heart

Feral Heart
A Rock Star Romance
(Feral Silence Series Book Four)
By Athena Wright
 Copyright


Copyright © 2016 Athena Wright

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or
used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the
publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

 Other Books


Other Books By Athena Wright


Feral Silence: A Rock Star Romance Series

Feral Gaze - Jayce and Ailey's story
Feral Voice - Kell and Emily's story
Feral Touch - Ren and Ivy's story
Feral Heart - Morris and Natalie's story


Upcoming Books


Darkest Days: A Rock Star Romance Series

Hard Rock Kiss - Noah and Jen's story (Coming January 2017)
Hard Rock Fling - Ian and Hope's story (Coming Early Spring 2017)
Hard Rock Heat - Damon and Faith's story
Hard Rock Sin - Cameron and Lily's story
Hard Rock Deceit - August and Crystal's story


Cherry Lips: A Rock Star Romance Series

Cerise and Nathan's story
Liam's story
Julian's story
Seth's story
Gael's story



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 Summary


One overly-excitable fangirl couldn't possibly compete with the woman a rock
star god loved and lost…

I watch him in concert. I adore him from afar. I live for those brief moments
backstage when he acknowledges my existence.
That's as close to a man I ever let myself get. It's safer for everyone.
Until fate brought us together.
Morris says he wants me. He says he'll protect me.
He also says I remind him of someone he used to care about.
I have to wonder. What ghost from his past is he seeing when he looks at me?
How can I possibly compete with the woman a rock star god loved and lost?

~~~

Feral Heart is a sexy New Adult Rock Star Romance. It is the fourth novel in
the Feral Silence series, but can be read as a standalone with a HEA.

A note from the author: This book is complete and utter fangirl wish
fulfillment. It is not realistic at all. Then again, who reads rock star romances for
realism, anyway? ;)
 Dedication


For my mom, the very first Morris fangirl and the one who kept asking "When
will the drummer get his own book??" I couldn't have written this story without
you.



Thank you to my BFF for allowing me to steal parts of your love story. Who
would have thought you'd find the love of your life through a three-minute video
of our crazy antics?
 Chapter 1


A tight pinch of thumb and forefinger threatened to snap the stem of the cocktail
glass I held in my hand. Bright red pumps, chosen to compliment my slinky
black dress, wobbled side to side as my toes curled and uncurled. The tumbling
and turning of my stomach threatened to make me sick with nausea.
The only thought running through my head was, I'm going to puke.
"You doing okay?" my best friend Jen whispered in my ear.
"Sure!" My tone was chipper, but even I could hear the strain beneath the
word. "Why wouldn't I be doing okay? Everything's great! I'm totally not
freaking out at all."
"Yeah. Me too. I'm not freaking out either."
We were both filthy liars.
It wasn't nerves, exactly. This event was a small affair, only a few dozen
people in attendance. I was fine in big crowds, and used to performing in front of
hundreds of people. I'd never had a problem with social anxiety.
No, the reason I was close to freaking out had nothing to do with how many
people I was surrounded by. It had everything to do with whom.
The members of Feral Silence, my favorite rock band, one of the most popular
rock bands to come out in the last few years, were casually chatting to each other
a mere dozen yards away.
Pulling out my phone, I tapped the photo album app and scrolled until I found
one picture in particular. A picture I treasured beyond all reason. My own
grinning face was in the frame, but it wasn't a regular selfie. There was another
person in the photo with me. A handsome man with bright green eyes, his face
serious, almost intimidating with its strong square jaw.
There was something somber about his expression, but a small smile, a tilt of
his lips, changed his austere look. There was a sense of warmth, of caring,
radiating from him. It made him seem more open. Approachable.
Looking up from the screen, I snuck a glance around the room, trying to
pinpoint the exact reason for my stuttering heartbeat. I caught a glimpse of a tall
man with short hair, his back to me, immensely broad shouldered with upper arm
muscles straining the fabric of his t-shirt.
Morris Edwards, the gorgeous, talented drummer of Feral Silence.
My toes wriggled in my shoes with nervous glee. My fingers clenched and
unclenched, squeezing the hard plastic of my phone case until it creaked. I
quickly averted my eyes. If I stared at him any longer I just knew I was going to
cause a scene.
"How are you holding up, Nat?"
The sympathetic note in Ivy's voice as she appeared next to me and Jen said
she knew exactly how well I was holding up. As one of my best friends and
roommates, she knew me well.
"I'm going to puke," I said out loud this time.
"Natalie." She gave me a soft smile, only using my full name when trying to
prevent me from a full on fangirl freak out. "You're not going to puke."
"I am!" I insisted. Ivy knew I was a Feral Silence fangirl, but I didn't think she
knew exactly to what extent.
But it wasn't just them. I could barely keep myself from bouncing up and
down on my tiptoes every time I recognized someone.
"Look, that's Suzy and Sylvie Carson!" I pointed to two nearly identical
blonde girls on the other side of the room.
"Who?" Ivy asked.
Jen huffed out a laugh. As the third occupant of our small, shared apartment,
she was used to Ivy being clueless when it came to pop culture. "Just because
you don't recognize any of the people in this room doesn't make them any less
famous."
"That's exactly what it means," Ivy said. "The definition of famous means that
people know who you are. They're just strangers to me."
I couldn't contain myself any longer. "Suzy and Sylvie are a pair of sisters
who sing country and they've got amazing voices. And they both play guitar.
And they compose their own songs."
"I didn't think you liked country music."
"I don't. They switched to pop. They're getting really famous now." My eyes
wandered over the room, spotting celebrities everywhere. "And over there,
remember those guys? They were in that super popular boy band when we were
kids. I think they're doing a reunion tour. And that woman is one of the most
respected music journalists in the world. She's had articles in Rolling Stone,
Billboard, Entertainment Weekly; all the big ones."
"She interviewed me tonight." Ivy said it so casually I almost didn't register
the words.
"You talked to her?"
"Yeah. She asked about my song. She seemed nice, if a little intense."
My mouth gaped open as Jen shook her head in disbelief.
I never imagined I'd find myself at a place like this. At an event like this.
Ivy had been the one to invite me to this party filled with celebrities,
superstars, and other household names.
 Although it seemed unbelievable, Ivy was dating one of them; the famous
rock star Ren Sada, bassist of Feral Silence. He was her childhood friend and
although they hadn't seen each other in five years, they'd recently reunited. They
had composed a song together and this party was the launch event.
As Ivy's best friends, of course Jen and I had been invited. We wanted to be
there to support her. To cheer her on and celebrate her success.
Which also meant we were now surrounded by hordes of famous people.
Models. News personalities. Reality TV stars.
Those people, I could almost handle. Sure, they were famous, but it wasn't
like I was a big fan or anything. It was a novelty to be in the same room as them,
but they didn't cause my heart to flutter. They didn't take my breath away. They
didn't make me feel like I was going to faint.
There was only one person who had that distinction.
I took a swig of my drink, finishing it in one gulp.
"Whoa, slow it down there." Jen took my empty glass from my hand. "How
many drinks have you had so far?"
"I can't take this," I said, voice strangled as I ignored the question. "Feral
Silence is right there. My heart's going to give out. I'm going to pass out and
die."
"You'll be fine." Jen patted my shoulder, consoling me, as if she wasn't
freaking out inside as much as I was. She was simply able to hide it better. Her
cherub face and long wavy hair gave her a cute girl-next-door look. Instead of
looking like a deer in headlights, like I was sure I did, her wide eyes made her
look earnest, eager. Nothing like the crazed fangirl I knew she was inside.
We were both such big fans, Jen and I had once made videos of ourselves
proclaiming our love for Feral Silence to win special VIP meet-and-greet passes.
The contest rules said the members would watch the videos themselves and
choose the winners, but it couldn't possibly have been true. There would have
been too many entries.
Besides, even if they had watched my video, it was months ago, and I doubted
any one of them would have remembered.
"Being a fangirl is one thing," I explained. "I like obsessing over the guys
from afar. I don't think I can take actually knowing them personally."
I couldn't take knowing one in particular.
"Natalie." Ivy gripped both my shoulders in her hands, making me stare her in
the eyes. Strands of hair fell out of my carefully coiffed updo, tickling my
cheeks and forehead, no doubt making me look frazzled. I was a mess. "They're
just normal people like us. Kell wears socks with holes in them. Jayce trips over
stuff on stage all the time. Morris hates it when his food touches on his plate."
 "What about Ren?" Jen asked.
"Ren's perfect."
That made us laugh.
"Look, the guys are by themselves right now. There's no media around." Ivy
gave us each a firm push to urge the two of us along. "Now's your chance. Let
me introduce you to the band."
 Chapter 2


"Ohmigod." I could hear the slight shake in Jen's voice. "We're really going to
meet them. We're going to meet Feral Silence."
The weight of it sunk in.
"Wait. Stop." I tugged on Ivy's sleeve. "I don't think I can do this."
"You'll be fine."
"But I don't know what to do!" I hissed at her as we approached, almost hiding
behind her back. I didn't want to call attention to myself. "I don't know what to
say!"
"Just say hello."
Just say hello. As if it were that easy.
I'd met Feral Silence's drummer Morris Edwards before. Of course I had. As a
Feral Silence fan I'd waited outside concert halls in rain, in snow, in scorching
hot weather, to catch a glimpse of the band, and maybe get an autograph or a
picture. All it took was one look from Morris, one brief moment where he
acknowledged my existence, and I would be giddy for days. Weeks. Months.
It was one thing to see Morris after a concert and subject him to my fangirl
squealing. That was expected. Girls were supposed to cheer and shout and
bounce up and down and grin until our cheeks hurt. In those moments after a
show, we were allowed to be crazed fans. We were allowed to get worked up and
carried away.
It was something completely different to shake his hand and nod politely. To
greet him with a pleasant smile as if he were a normal person. As if my heart
wasn't threatening to explode out of my chest.
The band members stood near one of the many bars scattered throughout the
small, intimate venue, drinks in hand. They all had beers, except for Morris. He
had a glass of something lightly amber colored.
Kell, the lead singer, grinned at his band mates with an upward tilt of his chin.
That expression would have looked smug on anyone else, but Kell Pierce always
carried himself with so much self-assurance, he managed to pull off a sort of
charismatic charm. He wore his customary ripped jeans and graphic tee. The
shirt had a cute cartoon ghost floating next to a gravestone. A speech bubble
coming from the ghost said Spoiler Alert. The epitaph on the gravestone read
Everybody Dies.
I wondered if it was a statement on life, or if he just watched a lot of gruesome
TV shows.
 The guitarist, Jayce, wore his ever present black leather jacket. He conceded
to the almost-formal gathering by wearing a shirt underneath, unlike his usual
bare abs on display in concert. I supposed he didn't want to cause a flurry of
swooning among the women and take attention away from Ren and Ivy at their
own launch party. Unlike Kell, it seemed Jayce Evans was able to keep his on-
stage arrogance from bleeding over into real life.
Ren was laughing and shaking his head at his lead singer with a combination
of amusement and exasperation. His impeccably tailored suit, crisp white
collared shirt and black skinny tie made him look effortlessly fashionable. The
event was classy enough he didn't look out of place, but Ren had more flair than
most of the other men, with a vintage pocket watch and brass buttons on his suit
jacket.
I'd thought I was stylish with my chic cocktail dress and fancy updo, but Ren
took it to another level.
I slowly turned my gaze away from Ivy's boyfriend, knowing there was only
one band member left. I lifted my eyes, my heart beating madly in my chest.
Morris never took his shirt off on stage, unlike Jayce and Kell, the show-offs,
but the shirt he wore tonight clung to delicious pectoral muscles and every firm
ab. His upper arms bulged out, straining the arm holes and those forearms… No
man had the right to look that sexy in a plain t-shirt.
Morris was tall. Very tall. I had to strain my neck upwards to meet his eyes, a
bright green color that suited his short, light brown hair. A strong, squared jaw
was dusted with the lightest of stubble. Completely and utterly masculine. He
looked just as tempting now in person as he did at concerts. I fought to suppress
a small shiver.
Stop. Drooling. I chastised myself.
Morris was known for avoiding groupies. He loved his fans, yes, but those
girls who threw themselves at rock stars hoping for something more than an
autograph? He shunned their attention.
I didn't want him to think I was one of them. That I was only a fan because of
his looks. It was the music I loved. I was taken with his powerful performances.
The passion he displayed on stage, combined with his steady, calming presence
off stage, was something I admired. It was something I wished I could pull off
myself.
Unfortunately, experience had long taught me that words like calm and steady
would never apply to me.
"Ivy!" Kell beamed at the three of us as we stopped in front of them. He
hooked an arm around her waist and swung her around until she squealed.
"Who're your friends?"
 She squirmed out of his arms and nestled into her boyfriend's chest instead.
Ren wrapped his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her hair, throwing a self-
satisfied look in Kell's direction. "Guys, this is Jennifer and this is Natalie."
I was nearly vibrating from nerves, excitement and panic fighting for control.
"Very nice to meet you." Jen's voice was breathless.
Play. It. Cool, I told myself. No fangirling. And definitely no puking.
But my mind went blank, mouth moving on autopilot.
"Hi! It's so nice to meet you all! I'm such a big fan! You guys are some of the
best musicians I've ever heard!" My tone was so bright and perky I could
practically see the exclamation marks hanging in the air. "You must get that all
the time, you guys are just so talented, I mean, the way you play on stage, wow!"
My mouth shut closed with a sharp snap.
Noooo, I wailed inwardly. What happened to playing it cool?
I fought to keep myself from visibly cringing as I glanced at Morris. I thought
I caught a slight smile, a quick twitch of his lips, but it was soon gone. For
Morris, that was as close to a laugh as I'd ever seen. He probably thought I was
just another crazed fangirl.
Which wasn't exactly far from the truth.
"Sorry." Jen gave a small, nervous snicker. "Nat tends to get a little excitable.
Just give her a moment. It'll pass."
"It's cool." A cocky grin spread across Kell's face. "I have that effect on fans.
I'm pretty awesome, after all. Who wouldn't be starstruck? Most people turn into
babbling idiots around me, they just can't help it."
"Who's the babbling idiot?" Jayce punched Kell in the shoulder.
"Abuse!" Kell pointed a finger accusingly at his guitarist. "Domestic abuse!
Or bullying. No, wait, sexual harassment! I'm going to file a complaint."
"Jen and Nat are my roommates." Ivy interrupted before the lead singer could
really get going. "They go to OPUS Academy, too."
Jen always said our college's nickname was dumb. The Academy of
Orchestral and Performance Studies was known by its students simply as OPUS,
a pun on the term Magnum Opus. I thought it was pretty clever.
"They're both classical music geeks like me," Ivy added.
Jen scrunched up her face in distaste. "I object to that statement."
She probably wanted to seem cool in front of rock stars. I, on the other hand,
knew I was anything but cool. Not when I was in front of these guys.
Especially not when I was in front of Morris, my rock star crush.
"What instrument do you play?" Jayce asked. His eyes slowly roved over Jen
from head to toe. I saw her shiver out of the corner of my eye.
He turned his gaze on me, doing the same. The sensuality in that dark stare
was almost overpowering. The worst thing was, I don't think he knew the effect
he had on us. He exuded sexual prowess without even meaning to.
I felt for the poor girl who would inevitably be on the receiving end of that
gaze when he really meant it. Either sorry or envious.
"Jen plays almost everything!" I blurted without thinking. "She's brilliant, top
of her class. She's totally going to be a famous composer someday!"
Jen blushed and ducked her head, long hair covering her red face. Kell
whistled in awe.
"And here we thought Ren was a prodigy," he teased, clapping the bassist on
the back hard enough to almost send him reeling. "Maybe one of us should
compose a song with you next."
Jen stuttered and shook her head. Kell just laughed.
"What do you play?"
I blinked, astonished, as Morris spoke, voice deep and low in his chest. Words
had actually left his mouth. That happened so rarely I was taken aback.
"Ah—"
I paused, looking around. Everyone had swung their head in my direction. Jen
nudged me with an elbow to the ribs. Morris really was talking to me. I turned to
meet his eyes, trying to keep my voice steady.
"I play piano. And um, I guess I also play the organ but classical piano is what
most people are familiar with, so I'm concentrating on that right now, plus I also
like to mess around with the theremin but I'm not exactly an expert or anything."
Shut. Up. My inner voice shouted at me. I bit my tongue to stop talking.
But Morris just nodded once, looking me over with a considering stare. He
was paying attention to me. It was different from when he stopped and signed
autographs backstage. I wasn't a squealing fangirl. I wasn't a groupie. I was an
acquaintance. A peer.
A normal girl.
I swallowed hard as he scanned me up and down, taking in every detail. It
was different from how Jayce had looked at me. That had been an almost casual
stare, a swift glance before effortlessly moving on.
This was more intense. Those green eyes dissected every inch of me, as if
Morris were memorizing every molecule of my being.
His gaze lingered on me a moment too long. That solemn expression I was so
used to seeing back stage or in interviews had been replaced by something
warmer. His eyes crinkled at the corners, an almost smile, then flickered with
something more. A spark of interest. A subtle heat. My heart fluttered. Heat
pooled between my legs. I nearly whimpered.
He flicked his eyes away and I slumped with relief. If our gazes had been
locked for one second longer I would have melted into a puddle at his feet.
Get. It. Together.
The tiniest of smiles shouldn't have me reacting like that. But this was Morris
Edwards.
"Theremin, isn't that what they used in the original Star Trek theme song?"
Kell's eyes lit up. "And hey, there's this group, The Octopus Project, they've got
a girl who plays the theremin, too. We should use that on our next album. We
can break out all these crazy instruments just like The Beatles. Ren, you're a
genius, go learn the theremin."
Jen tried to hide a laugh behind her palm. "I never thought I'd meet someone
who rambles as much as Natalie."
"I don't ramble!" Kell protested. "I impart people with my wit and charm."
"What's that?" Morris drawled. "Did you say nitwit and smarm?"
Kell made a face. "You guys suck."
The rest of us laughed. The tension in my chest eased. It seemed Morris was
more talkative around his friends. The guys really were just like regular people,
if slightly more arrogant and a hell of a lot sexier.
"Jayce, you guys, I need you over here for a minute." A young woman about
my age in a smart pencil skirt called over from the other side of the room,
gesturing with her hand. She was standing next to the famous music journalist.
"Sorry girls, duty calls." Kell bounced forward and pressed a kiss to each of
our cheeks. Before I could do more than squeak he was off. The rest of the band
members gave apologetic smiles and went with him. My eyes followed Morris
as he left, watching the hard muscles of his back shift beneath his t-shirt.
From the moment I'd stood in front of him, my brain had switched off. I hadn't
managed to say anything interesting or clever. He probably thought I was just
another annoying fangirl, tongue-tied over meeting her idol. A black pit of
despair threatened to take over my chest. I'd wanted to play it cool. So much for
that.
Morris turned back. I froze, too panicked to do anything else. He had caught
me watching him. So embarrassing. I wanted to whip around and pretend I
hadn't been staring, but I couldn't. His eyes were locked onto mine. I couldn't
look away. I tried to decipher the expression on his face, but it was unreadable.
Stoic as always.
I just knew the expression on my face was a combination of mortification and
adoration. Before he turned away, I thought I caught a hint of something more.
His eyes softened as a brief smile crossed his lips. Then his face smoothed out
into its usual somber expression and he turned back around.
All the air expelled from my lungs in a whoosh. I could finally breathe again.
"See? They're just normal people," Ivy said. "Nothing to get excited about."
"Right," I croaked. "Nothing exciting at all."
 Chapter 3


I was in over my head.
Children ran passed me at top speed, nearly knocking me over. Their
boisterous shouting and laughter was deafening. I loved babysitting my cousins,
but right now I was seriously starting to doubt myself. This was not even in the
same league.
Was I doing the right thing?
"They've got a lot of steam to work off," Jessie said with a laugh. "They're
stuck sitting at their school desks all day, after all."
I'd signed up to volunteer for the summer at The Impact Center, a local youth
center for underprivileged kids and teenagers, and Jessie was the coordinator
assigned to show me the ropes. She seemed unperturbed at the chaos
surrounding us.
"This is where we send the high-energy kids." She led me to a small
gymnasium-style room with padded mats on the floor, various sized sports balls,
and a handful of jump ropes spread across the floor. "We get them to work it off
before they go on to the study rooms, for those in summer school."
A dozen kids sat at circular tables, some with their heads down as they silently
completed their homework, others chatting quietly in groups. Three adults
walked between the tables, offering help where needed and shushing the ones
who spoke a little too loud.
"And this," Jess said with a flourish, "is where the real magic happens."
She walked me down a hallway, walls thundering and vibrating from music
pumping out behind closed doors.
"What is this?" I asked, half shouting to be heard.
"Music hall," she shouted back.
The loud music, shrieking kids and slamming of doors as students rushed
from one room to another was almost overwhelming. I winced at the uproar.
Jessie didn't flinch. She was no doubt more than used to the mayhem.
Me, not so much.
She stopped outside one closed door. The sound of fast pounding drums
blasted my ears.
"Sorry," Jessie apologized. "These rooms are supposed to be soundproofed,
but we had to do a DIY job of it ourselves."
"Whoever it is, they're really good for a kid."
"I don't think it's one of the kids."
 Jessie opened the door. I squeezed my eyes shut and palmed my ears
reflexively at the noise. I had caught a quick glance of a large man sitting at a
drum set surrounded by a dozen kids and teenagers. How they weren't deafened
by the sound, I had no idea.
The music came to a stop. The kids groaned and whined. I opened my eyes
and lowered my hands.
I froze.
No.
No way.
There was absolutely no way what I was seeing was real.
"Morris, you got a minute?" Jessie asked.
Morris Edwards.
I wasn't imagining it.
The drummer of Feral Silence stood from behind the drum set. He greeted
Jessie with a nod.
I swallowed hard and took a step back.
"Natalie, come on over. I've got to introduce the two of you."
I approached with hesitant feet, my heartbeat stuttering.
I'd acted like a complete imbecile that night at Ivy's launch party. I'd rambled
on like an idiot. A terrible first impression. I'd been kicking myself over it ever
since.
Now I had a second chance.
I wasn't going to blow it.
"Morris, this is Natalie Lambert." Jessie gestured to me. "She's our new
volunteer."
Morris gave me a quick sweep of his eyes, up and down. As brief as that look
was, his stare was intense, as if he were taking in every detail and filing it away.
My lungs squeezed in my chest.
He lifted his eyes to mine. There didn't seem to be a hint of recognition.
Maybe he didn't remember me. After all, I'd been wearing a fancy dress with my
hair and makeup all done up. Today I was just wearing a plain sundress with
barely a hint of lip gloss. I probably looked like a different person. That was a
good thing. I let out a breath. Morris nodded in greeting.
"I have an idea I want to swing by you two," Jessie said as she shooed the rest
of the kids out of the room. "Natalie plays piano, which means she can also play
a keyboard. I'm not too bad on a guitar. Morris, you're a maniac on the drums. I
was thinking we put together a summer course for the kids where we teach them
how to play rock music. A Jack Black School of Rock kind of thing." She looked
between the two of us expectantly. "What do you think?"
 Every molecule in my body screeched to a halt. My mind went fuzzy.
Work. With Morris. All summer.
"We need vocals." He sounded just as I remembered, his voice a low rumbling
in his chest. Aside from the party, I'd only heard him speak in person a few times
when greeting fans backstage. I always cherished every word.
"I can sing." It was out before I could think it through. I nearly swallowed my
tongue.
"Wonderful, we're all set, then." Jessie clapped her hand together once. "I've
got some more work to do before I leave. I'll send you guys an email with some
of my ideas. We can get together later to talk it out."
Wait.
Were we really doing this?
I couldn't work with Morris all summer. I'd die. My heart would literally burst
in my chest. My lungs would expire from the effort of keeping all my fangirl
gushing inside. I'd say something ridiculous and he'd realize I was a crazy fan,
he'd think I was groupie, and he'd want to get as far away from me as possible.
What the hell had I gotten myself into?
 Chapter 4


I stared at Morris. He stared at me.
Play. It. Cool.
"I guess I better start practicing rock music on the keyboard! It's pretty much
the exact same as the piano right? Rock is so different from classical though, I'll
have to make sure I've got it down before we start teaching the kids. Good thing
I just finished the semester. This project sounds like a lot of fun!"
I cut myself off with a silent groan. Dammit. My mouth kept on flapping
without any input from my brain. My cheery, vapid tone was not doing me any
favors, either.
"Use a keyboard with weighted keys."
I blinked at Morris, surprised he bothered responding. "That's a good idea.
They've got the same resistance as piano keys."
"Might make the transition to rock music easier," he said, expression placid.
"Thanks." I fought to keep my voice steady, and not breathless. "I don't want
to look bad in front of the kids. Rock music is all about being cool, you know?"
"Maybe you should learn to play the keytar."
"Uh—" I was about to tell him keytars haven't been cool since the eighties
when I noticed his lips twitch upwards. He was making a joke.
Morris was joking with me.
My lips spread into a bright smile. "Maybe you should learn to play the
tambourine. Percussion is all the same, isn't it?"
His eyes crinkled at the corners, his face transforming from somber to ever-so-
slightly amused.
My heart started beating faster. We were having an honest-to-god, two-way
conversation. Maybe it really was possible to flip the switch that turned off
Fangirl Mode. Acting like a normal person, treating Morris like he was a normal
person — I could pull it off. I could pretend I had no idea who he was.
I hoped.
"Have you been volunteering at the youth center for very long?" I asked. That
seemed like a safe question.
"Years."
"Even before—" I cut myself off. I couldn't mention the band. "Even before
Jessie?" I was proud of myself for recovering so smoothly.
Morris nodded.
"Today's my orientation day. I had no idea Jessie was going to spring that rock
music class on me. I take it this is the first you've heard about it?"
"She hinted at it. Asked if I'd knew that School of Rock movie."
"I've never seen it."
"We should watch it together."
My brain screeched to a halt. I nearly choked, my throat closing up. I stared at
Morris, wide-eyed. He couldn't be suggesting what I thought he was suggesting.
Watching a movie together? Like a date?
A small kernel of distress began swirling in my gut, almost indistinguishable
from the flutter of excitement, but it was there, lurking, ready to pounce on me in
full force.
Morris continued speaking, seemingly unaware of my impending nervous
breakdown. "The kids like movie nights."
My shoulder muscles relaxed, slumping down — whether in relief or
disappointment, I couldn't tell. I didn't want to examine those feelings too
closely. Not in front of him. I needed a moment.
"Yeah, that sounds fun." My voice was weak and thready. "Um. I should
actually get going. I think my orientation is over."
"I'll walk you out."
Those next sixty seconds were spent in utter silence. It felt like an eternity as I
snuck glances at Morris out of the corner of my eye. He seemed unaffected by
the silence. I wondered if he could hear the thundering of my heartbeat. I didn't
want to open my mouth and risk ruining the good strides I'd made in the last few
minutes.
My phone pinged, making me twitch in surprise. I pulled it out, glad for the
distraction. The silence was beginning to feel awkward. My eyes skimmed over
the newest email.
I paused in mid-step. Goosebumps prickled the hair on my arms and the back
of my neck. A cold shiver ran through me. Dread squeezed my chest like a vice.
"Something wrong?"
The concern in Morris's voice registered distantly somewhere in the back of
my mind, but it was like listening to someone on the other side of the ocean. The
words were distorted with the sound of blood rushing through my ears, of
staticky white noise.
I re-read the email one more time. A small stuttering gasp of air left my lungs.
"Natalie? You okay?"
"I'm fine." I replied without thinking, social graces having been drilled into
me from an early age. The words were shaky, barely a whisper.
Morris stopped in front of me, his large body casting a shadow over mine. My
eyes barely reached his chest. He just had so much… presence. I lifted my head
up to find worried eyes, his eyebrows drawn down into a slight frown. I forced a
cheery smile onto my face.
"It's nothing! I'm fine. Just got an email with some surprising news." A
complete understatement. "I wasn't expecting it, it just took me off guard, that's
all. Everything's fine."
"What kind of news?"
Morris ignored everything else I'd said, latching onto the one most important
part. The one thing I didn't want to elaborate on.
"It's not important. I shouldn't let it get to me. Don't worry about it."
He stood in front of me, unmoving, blocking my path. The worry in those
green eyes hadn't lessened in the slightest.
"I've really got to get going." I took a step forward, trying to force him back.
For a brief moment I thought he wouldn't move. I thought he'd push the matter.
Morris simply nodded once and moved aside. The tension between his eyes
was still there, but he seemed content to let it drop.
A silent, relieved sigh left my lips. The last thing I needed was to unload my
issues onto a famous rock star. A rock star I'd be working with all summer. He no
doubt already thought I was a babbling idiot, like his lead singer Kell had said. I
didn't want him knowing about all the baggage I came with, as well.
It might have been my imagination, but I thought Morris had inched closer to
me, almost-but-not-quite invading the invisible bubble of my personal space.
We reached the exit with two large double doors. He darted ahead and held
one of them open, allowing me to pass through first. I suppressed a pleased
smile. Morris was old-fashioned. Or maybe he was simply polite and held the
door for everyone. Either way, the small gesture charmed me more than it should
have.
I had taken no more than three steps onto the sidewalk when I saw it. A dark
shadow lurking on the other side of the street, barely hidden beneath a shop
awning. I jumped back, my heart racing madly, adrenaline pumping through my
veins.
"What's wrong?" Strong hands gripped my shoulders, pulling me back against
a solid chest. Morris's tone was brisk, no-nonsense. He scanned the street up and
down as if every sense were on high alert.
The warmth of his hand spread from my bare shoulder, down my chest,
straight to my core, settling there with a pleasant heat. I shivered, stomach
muscles clenching. It was almost enough to distract me from the fright I'd just
had. Almost.
"It's nothing." I waved my hand dismissively. My fingers were shaking. "Just
thought I saw something." I shrugged off his hands and paced a few steps
forward, trying to control my trembling limbs.
It couldn't have been Kevin. He had no idea where I lived now. That email
informing me of his release was just making me see things.
But what if I wasn't?
"What did you think you saw?"
Morris wasn't going to let it go. I wondered how much I should tell him.
"It's my ex from back home."
Did three dates followed by a year of stalking count as an ex? It was certainly
less drama-queen of me to call him an ex. Who wanted to hear about a crazy
stalker when first meeting someone?
"I kicked him to the curb a while ago. I thought I saw—" I stopped and shook
my head. "There's no reason why he'd be in town. But if he is, I'd like to avoid
him as much as possible."
That was safe enough, wasn't it? Enough detail for him to stop asking, but not
enough to cause any concern. "I've really got to get going." I didn't move, that
spike of fear still stabbing though my chest, my heartbeat still pounding wildly.
Morris tilted his head slightly to the side, giving me a considering look. "Want
to go for coffee?"
I stared at him, clutching my phone in my hand.
"Looks like you could use a break," he added.
"I don't know," I said, hesitant. If Kevin really was back…
"If your ex is around, maybe he'll think twice before approaching if he sees
you with me," Morris offered.
"You are kind of intimidating." I clapped my hand over my mouth. "Sorry!
No, I didn't mean that, it's just—"
His lips twitched in a slight smile. "I intimidate you?"
"No!" Yes. For many, many reasons. "You're just so big, and tall, and your arm
muscles from drumming, I mean, you've just got that MMA fighter-bodyguard-
bouncer thing going on."
The small smile turned downwards. Had I insulted him? Maybe rock stars
didn't like being compared to bouncers. They probably wanted to be compared to
Iggy Pop or Ozzie Osborne.
Morris didn't seem like the cocky narcissist type, or the bite-the-head-off-bats
type. That was more Jayce, or Kell.
Morris was just… Morris.
"A coffee would be nice. Thanks." I didn't want to go home. Not yet. Not if
there was a chance I could be followed.
"I know a great place."
I blinked in surprise as Morris held out his arm for me to take, like a proper,
old fashioned gentleman. I lifted my eyes to meet his and found that downcast
expression had melted away. Instead, there was a subtle heat. A spark of interest.
My heart thumped madly. My inner fangirl tried not to swoon.
A small part of me, though, couldn't help but feel a little nervous.
I loved watching these rock star gods from afar. I was content to follow them
online, see them in concert, have a brief moment of contact backstage. Adoration
from a distance.
Neither one of us getting close.
Neither one of us getting hurt.
After a moment of hesitation, I placed my arm in his and let Morris guide me.
Despite the flush on my cheeks and the excitement flowing through my veins,
I couldn't suppress a flash of fear. It was different from the fear I'd felt after
reading that email. After seeing that silhouette. Those fears were routine. They
were an almost constant train of thought in the back of my mind I'd never fully
escaped.
This fear settled deep within my gut, fighting for dominance, trying to rise
above the flutter of butterflies in my stomach. Trying to dampen my rising
anticipation.
I was walking side by side with my celebrity crush, the rock star god who'd
offered his arm and invited me out for coffee. I should have been overjoyed.
Instead, I was trying to resist the urge to run away.
For both our sakes.
 Chapter 5


"This is what you call a great place?"
The coffee shop Morris took me to couldn't be called a cafe. The hole in the
wall was too sketchy for that. Rickety mismatched tables with equally
mismatched chairs were strewn about haphazardly, plastic table mats covering
the tops. The menu consisted of a single chalkboard behind the stained counter
with the day's items scribbled out in near-indecipherable handwriting. It smelled
of cigarette smoke, coffee beans, and something vaguely musty I couldn't quite
identify — and probably didn't want to.
"I like it," Morris said simply. "There's never any fans. Or media. Or anyone,
really."
"Gee, can't imagine why."
"They serve good coffee."
"I don't think I believe you."
Despite my reservations, I ordered a latte from a bored-faced girl, hair in a
messy bun on the top of her head. Morris ordered a plain black coffee. He
handed a bill to the barista.
"I'm paying."
"No, I can't let you—"
"Natalie." He waved the bill in his hand. It was a hundred. "Let me pay."
If a rich and famous rock star wanted to buy me a two-dollar coffee with a
hundred-dollar bill, I wasn't going to protest more than once.
We sat at one of the rickety tables. I took my seat quickly, then regretted it. I
should have taken my time and found out if Morris would also pull my chair out
for me.
Staring down at my coffee, waiting for it to cool, I snuck glances at him
through my eyelashes. He'd grabbed a handful of sugar packets and was
systematically ripping off the tops in neat paper strips, pouring one after another
into his cup. He had to have used at least five or six packets. I mean, yeah, he'd
ordered an extra-large, but geez. Maybe the combination of caffeine-buzz and
sugar-high was how he kept energized. A famous man like him must have had a
full schedule.
"Are you sure you have the time for a project like this?" My eyes went wide
as I almost swallowed my tongue. I'd spoken without thinking, just to make
some sort of conversation. Dammit. I was trying to pretend I didn't know who he
was. Trying to pretend we were just two normal people out for coffee.
 But Morris wasn't taken aback. He tilted his head, questioning.
I forced myself to continue, hoping to smooth over my mistake. "I mean,
you're probably a pretty busy person right?"
"You mean busy with band stuff?"
"Um. Yeah." It seemed I couldn't pretend any longer. "Don't you have a lot on
your plate with touring and recording and everything? How will you find time to
teach kids rock music?"
"New album's not due till next year. We're still working on the songs, hashing
things out before we need to go on tour. We've got a tight timeline, but I've made
sure to schedule some down time."
"New album!" My excitement over the possibility of hearing new Feral
Silence songs overrode any sense of self preservation. "Oh my god, I can't wait,
your last one was so amazing, I've listened to it a million times, I have no idea
how you're going to top it!"
I wanted to plant my face in my hands. I had to get a grip. If I kept squealing
like a fangirl, I was going to start annoying him, if I wasn't already.
But Morris just took a sip of his coffee, not saying anything. He was going to
ignore my outburst. Thank god.
"What about you?" he asked quietly.
"Me?"
"Are you busy? Job, school?"
His question surprised me, though it shouldn't have. He seemed taciturn but
there was nothing to suggest Morris couldn't be a good conversationalist.
"I'm finished with school for the year. I've got a part time job at a shoe store
during the school year but they don't need me in the summer. I was thinking of
getting a full time job, but using my free time to gain volunteer experience with
kids seemed more important."
"Why's it important?"
"I want to be a music teacher. I figured I should get some experience to make
myself look good. I'm applying for teacher's college when I graduate."
"From OPUS, right?"
I frowned, confused. I hadn't mentioned which school I went to.
Oh.
Oh.
Oh god. Morris knew exactly who I was. He remembered me from the party.
He'd known the whole time.
He remembered my inane babbling. And he no doubt remembered my tongue-
tied gaping. I wanted to sink into the floor, but it was a little too late to be
embarrassed now.
 "You're not drinking your coffee," Morris noted.
I quickly took a gulp. It nearly scalded my tongue, but it tasted like heaven.
"It's good!"
"You sound surprised. Are you a coffee snob?" Morris gave me a faint smile.
"Only drink the best fair trade, organic, hand-picked coffee beans?"
"No!"
"Dessert type, then? Double whip, extra syrup, white mocha, heated to exactly
one hundred and eighty degrees?"
"You know a lot more about coffee than I do."
"Ren's a coffee snob. I picked up a few things."
"Ivy's never said anything about that. She's more of a plain milk and
sweetener type of person."
"Ren tones it down when she's around."
"And there he is, always teasing her about her refined tastes. Although I guess
they both have a posh air about them. They're cute."
"They make a good couple."
It was weird, talking about Ren and Ivy with Morris, like gossiping old ladies.
He didn't seem like the type.
"You want to be a teacher. You like kids?"
"I love them. Or I thought I did. I liked babysitting my cousins. Those kids at
the center, though…" I trailed off, not wanting to say out loud they seemed like
hellions.
"They can get rowdy, but they're good kids underneath."
"You said you've been volunteering there for years. Why did you start?"
Morris took another sip of his coffee, staring at me over the rim. I began to get
uncomfortable after a few long moments. I hadn't thought my question was that
difficult to answer.
"Just wanted to give back," he said eventually.
A simple, impersonal answer. If he didn't want to get into it, I wouldn't push.
"How do you manage it? Don't the kids recognize you?"
He leaned back in his chair, stretching out his long legs. His toe bumped into
mine. A small thrill went through me, before I suppressed it. An accident, surely.
"Not often. Drummers are hidden away at the back, right? Some of the tweens
do, though. After a few days of silent awe, they come around. I'm just like any
other person."
Morris was completely unlike any person I'd ever met. Famous. Talented. A
rock star god.
Who also happened to have invited me out for coffee. And paid for my drink.
And was now staring into my eyes with a glint of amusement and a simmering
heat.
Morris avoided groupies. He didn't like it when girls threw themselves at him.
But the look in his eyes made me think he might not mind being the one doing
the chasing.
I blushed and looked down into the depths of my cup.
Now that everything was out in the open, there was one thing I'd always
wanted to say.
"Thank you."
"For the coffee? It's nothing."
"No. A while ago, back when Ren and Ivy first met backstage at that concert,
you took a photo with me." I looked up to meet his eyes. "I know you don't
remember, because it was months ago and you encounter hundreds of fans all the
time, but since you don't always like to take selfies, I wanted to thank you."
I didn't tell him that picture was one of my most treasured possessions. That I
looked at it a dozen times a day. That I contemplated printing it out and putting it
in a frame on my bedside table.
No, I didn't tell him any of that.
Morris looked at me, face shuttered, eyes guarded. "You're very welcome."
The words were almost solemn.
It should have sent my heart aflutter, but it didn't. This Morris, the serious,
somber Morris, was the one I remembered as a Feral Silence fan. He cared about
his supporters, cared deeply, but he always kept us at arm's length. He was
always sincere, but also closed off.
Maybe I'd made a mistake bringing it up. I didn't want him to see me as a fan.
I wanted him to see me as a normal girl. I wanted that faint smile. I wanted the
Morris who called his lead singer out on his ego, who joked with me about
keytars and coffee snobs.
I wished I could erase the last few minutes. I had to bring the conversation
back around.
"You said you wanted to watch that movie?" I asked brightly, trying to change
the subject. "Maybe we should pick a date and see if the kids are interested."
"I'm sure they will be."
I didn't know what else to say. I didn't want to mention the band and remind
him I was a fan. Fortunately, Morris changed the subject for me.
Unfortunately, he turned the subject onto the one thing I didn't want to talk
about.
"What's with you and your ex?"
I tensed up. If I were a cat, all the hairs on my spine would have stood on end.
I forced myself to relax before Morris noticed. "It's the same old story. Bad
break up. You know."
"You seemed spooked."
I faked a casual shrug. "That's pretty normal, I mean, no one likes to run into
their ex, it's always awkward, so I'm just trying to avoid him."
I said the words in a rush, trying to sound flippant, but the tight grip on my
drink gave me away. My fingers shook around the paper cup, nearly crushing it.
I consciously made an effort to unclench them. I took a sip and grimaced at the
now lukewarm coffee. "I think I'm done with this." I didn't want to leave, but I
also didn't want to stay here with Morris prying into my life. "We should
probably go. You've got stuff to do I'm sure."
He contemplated me silently for a few moments before nodding. He took my
coffee cup and tossed it into the bin for me, before taking my arm again and
guiding me through the coffee shop doors.
Just before I stepped through, I hesitated. Morris noticed.
"Something wrong?"
"Nope!" I said cheerfully, forcing myself to step out onto the pavement. "Just
thinking that I forgot my sunglasses. It's pretty bright out today. I never think to
throw them in my purse until after I'm already outside. Jen always says I'm going
to get wrinkles around my eyes from squinting all the time."
My mouth was running off on me again, but I couldn't help it. All my senses
were shouting at me to be wary. I took a few cautious glances to the left and
right.
"Hmm." Morris eyed me up and down. "You think he's following you?"
"Of course not." I let out a nervous laugh. "Why would he be following me?
I'm just being paranoid." I struggled to hide my growing unease. I didn't want to
talk about it. I especially didn't want to talk about it with Morris.
"Are you afraid of him?"
My eyes grew wide. His words barely registered through the roar of blood
rushing through my ears. Morris was too perceptive. "Why would I be afraid of
him? He's just an ex-boyfriend, that's all. Of course I'm not afraid. Don't be
silly."
Two large hands wrapped around mine. I looked up, startled. The heat of
Morris's palms pressed against the back of my hands jolted me out of my sudden
panic. That feeling warmed me to my very center, a heat pulsing through me, up
and down my spine and settling between my legs. I pressed my thighs together
and suppressed a whimper.
"Why don't I take you home?"
"W-what?" I tried not to sound breathless. It didn't work.
"Like I said. If your ex sees me, maybe he'll back off. I'm intimidating, after
all," he drawled, quirking a wry smile.
"I didn't really mean that." Even though I sort of did. He was intimidating in
more ways than one, his stature being the least of it.
"I'll give you a drive back."
"You don't have to do that."
"I want to. Believe me. I don't want you going home alone if you're this
shaken up."
"I'm not," I replied automatically. It was a blatant lie and he knew it.
"Natalie." The words were soft but his tone was resolute. "Let me take you
home."
Those words echoed in my ears, a pulsing heat throbbing in my chest — and
other places. I knew what he really meant, but that didn't stop my body from
responding. And this time, that small hint of fear was nowhere to be found.
I wanted to hear those words again. But this time, I wanted them to have a
whole different meaning behind it. "Why are you helping me?"
Morris hesitated for a moment. I wondered if he was going to answer.
"You remind me of someone," he said eventually.
"Kell?"
His lips twitched. "I would never insult you like that."
"He's not that bad."
"He's that bad, and worse. But I don't want to talk about Kell."
"No?"
"I want to talk about you. And why you're so afraid."
I pressed my lips together and looked down.
Strong fingers tipped my head back up with a nudge of my chin. Morris met
my eyes and held them for long moments. I stared back, unblinking. For once,
my usual rambling was nowhere to be heard.
"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."
"It's not that I don't want to."
I would have given anything to be able to talk to someone. But I would not
burden others with my problems. I didn't want them to look at me differently. I
wanted to be cheerful, upbeat Natalie. Not poor emotionally-traumatized Natalie.
I didn't want my celebrity crush to think of me like that.
I certainly didn't want Morris, the man behind the rock star god, to think of me
like that.
"Do you have one of those luxury cars that sell for millions of dollars that they
only make five of in the entire world? That would be pretty cool. I'm sure if
there are any perks of being a rock star, it's getting to drive a fancy car. I've never
been in something like that. I can't even afford a second hand clunker."
 I had to force the rambling this time. The wrinkle of concern in Morris's brow
faded, that amused smile returning to his lips. I was back to being exuberant Nat,
the babbling, excitable fangirl.
That was much better than the alternative.
 Chapter 6


Stepping into my apartment, I leaned my back against the closed door and
breathed deeply. I couldn't get enough air into my lungs.
During the drive home, Morris hadn't brought up any sensitive subjects, and
I'd managed to contain any more fangirl outbursts. Instead, we talked about our
plans for the rock music class, coming up with ideas for different lessons
depending on each kid's skill level. I suggested putting on a final performance at
the end of the summer. Morris enthusiastically agreed.
I'd fumbled with my seatbelt when we finally stopped in front of my
apartment. I hadn't wanted to be nervous, but the glint of heat I'd seen as he
turned to me sent my stomach tumbling over.
I swore I could feel his eyes burning into my backside as I climbed out of my
seat, wincing as I thumped my heel against the car's smoothly polished surface.
I'd been right. Morris drove one of those expensive, luxury, exclusive sports cars.
It was black, it was sleek, and that was about the sum of my knowledge when it
came to cars.
Jen sat on a sofa in the living room, watching something on her laptop. She
paused it when I walked in.
"Nat? You okay?"
That seemed to be the question of the day.
"Fine. Just had a weird day." That was one way of putting it.
"I thought you were going to volunteer at that youth center. Did it not pan
out?"
"It went fine. The volunteer coordinator had some ideas for how I can help
out."
"Put to work wrangling rug rats, huh?"
I laughed. "You make it sound so unappealing."
"You're the kid person, not me."
Jen turned her attention back to her laptop, hitting the spacebar.
Familiar lyrics from a familiar voice sounded through the room. Jen was
watching a Feral Silence music video.
A small part of me wanted to keep Morris to myself. I now understood why
Ivy was so reluctant to talk about Ren when they first started dating. Morris was
a real person to me now, but all Jen would hear is famous rock star and her brain
would melt.
I had to tell her. I couldn't not tell her.
 "If I tell you something, do you promise not to freak out?"
"No." Jen didn't lift her eyes from the screen. "Why?"
I hesitated, debating. "I ran into someone famous at the youth center."
Jen snorted. "A celebrity doing the PR charity tour, showing their support for
the downtrodden?"
"Nothing like that. He volunteers there."
Her ears almost visibly perked up. "He? There's a he? Let me guess. Actor?
Musician? Trashy reality TV star?"
Never in a million years would she guess.
"It was Morris Edwards."
Her mouth dropped open.
"From Feral Silence," I added needlessly.
Her squeal practically deafened me, until she cut herself off abruptly to pepper
me with questions.
"How did you meet him? Did he remember you? Did you talk to him?"
"We're going to be working together at the center this summer. He
remembered me from the party. We went out for coffee."
"Coffee!" Jen clasped her hands under her chin like a prayer, her whole body
vibrating with excitement. "Did you manage to keep a lid on your rambling this
time?"
"Um. Not really."
Jen snickered. "Poor Morris. He was probably overwhelmed by your fangirl
power. Did you talk his ear off? Bet he couldn't get a word in edgewise. Not that
he talks much anyway," she added thoughtfully.
"I wasn't that bad." Maybe. I hoped. He'd driven me home, after all, so I
couldn't have been that annoying.
I remembered that trace of heat I'd seen in his eyes and flushed.
"Are you blushing? You're blushing!" She sat up straight, eyes shining with
glee. "Oh my god, did something happen between the two of you?"
"No! He just bought me coffee. And drove me home." And he also might have
checked out my ass as I walked into the apartment building.
"You said you're going to be working together?"
"We're going to be holding a rock music class for the kids. I'll be teaching
vocals and keyboard. It actually sounds like a lot of fun." As long as I could
keep my cool around Morris. Who knew what would happen the first time I saw
him sit behind a drum set and rock his instrument?
Something about watching a gorgeous man playing live music ignited a
wildfire of excitement inside me. Watching Morris was especially thrilling. That
look of intense concentration, those green eyes burning with unbridled passion
— not to mention the shifting of those arm muscles under his tight shirt as he
pounded away.
"So. You went for coffee, huh? That's a cute first date."
I sputtered at her use of the D word. Jen just laughed at me.
"What did you talk about on your not-date?"
"Little things. We talked about why we started volunteering. He mentioned a
new album. We gossiped about Ren and Ivy. Did you know Ren is a coffee
snob?"
"No changing the subject." Jen's eyes grew wide. "Do you think he's seen your
fan video? The rules said the band members would watch each submission and
choose the winners. You gushed like a thirteen-year-old girl. Wow, Nat, that's
embarrassing."
"No. No way. There must have been hundreds, thousands of submissions.
Mine was nothing special."
"And if he remembered the way you went on and on, he'd probably have run
for the hills, not asked you out for coffee." She couldn't seem to suppress the
grin that took over her whole face. "You had coffee! With Morris Edwards!"
Even I still couldn't believe it, and I had lived it.
"Do you think he's trying to get you into bed?"
A stab of lust, laced with panic, shot through me. "Jen!"
"What? He's a rock star. That's what they do." Her eyes lit up. "Maybe you'll
finally get to see him shirtless. Morris never takes off his shirt on stage like the
other guys. Lucky girl."
"No. No no no. He's just getting to know me because we're going to be
working together. That's it."
But even I knew that was a lie. I'd seen the way he looked at me. Seen that
thinly-veiled hunger in his eyes.
He said I reminded him of someone. Someone he used to sleep with? Did that
explain it?
"He's a rock star," I insisted. "He can get any girl he wants. Fans throw
themselves at him in droves."
"Yeah, and he avoids them all. Maybe he's looking for something different."
"He should be with a model. Or an actress."
"Ren's dating Ivy and she's a normal girl," Jen pointed out.
"That's different. They knew each other from when they were kids. They got a
second chance. I'm just another fangirl Morris has to be nice to because we're
going to be working together. That's all."
"Mm-hmm." Jen sat there with a smirk on her face.
"I wouldn't want to get involved with someone like him."
 "Who said anything about getting involved? A one night stand with a rock star
is every fan's dream."
"Not mine. He's famous. He has paparazzi stalking him everywhere, crazy
fans following his every move. No thanks. I don't need that in my life."
But I was lying. Morris's fame had nothing to do with my reluctance.
It was his fame that drew me to him. He was untouchable. An idol. I could
love him from afar, with no fear of him ever noticing me in return. With no fear
of getting hurt. Either of us. I'd had enough of that already.
I wasn't going to let anyone else get hurt again.
 Chapter 7


The next morning, a flurry of knocks on my bedroom door woke me from a
restless sleep.
"Nat! Wake up!"
Rubbing my hands over my face to clear the sleep out of my eyes, I lurched
out of bed and fumbled for the door handle. It swung open to reveal a wide-eyed
Jen thrusting her phone in my face. I startled back before she could smack me in
the nose.
"Why are you bugging me so early?" I grumbled, but took the phone and
glared blearily at the photo on the screen that she so obviously wanted me to see.
"You've been found out." Her voice was high-pitched and tight, her expression
flickering between both glee and worry, an odd combination.
"What are you going on about?" I was a grouch in the morning and Jen knew
it.
"Just look!"
"I am looking."
It was a blurry photo of two people facing each other, bodies mere inches
apart, toes almost touching. The girl's face was hidden by her hair, but as I stared
at the photo, dawning horror fell upon me. I glanced up, panicked.
Jen didn't wait for me to speak. "It's you and Morris! Someone caught a
picture of you and Morris and it looks like you're about to kiss and you told me
nothing happened!"
"We didn't kiss!" I examined the photo again. It had been snapped outside the
cafe, when Morris had taken my hands and offered to drive me home. I'd been so
overwhelmed by his words, by his presence, I hadn't realized what our position
must have looked like from the outside.
"The internet's been going nuts. There's thousands of shares and comments
already. They want to know if you're a groupie or his girlfriend or what."
A hint of indignation sparked through me. "Groupie?"
Jen shrugged. "You know the media. Any girl seen with Feral Silence is either
a potential groupie or girlfriend."
"I'm not either."
"Doesn't matter. Everyone's trying to find out who that mystery girl is."
Crazy fangirls loved to dig up dirt on potential rivals for the guys' affections.
What if someone realized who I was? What if they found out my name, where I
went to school?
 A sharp spike of dread filled my chest.
What if they found out where I lived? What if Kevin found out? What if he
came after me?
What if he came after Morris?
I swallowed hard and shoved the phone back into Jen's hands. "We didn't kiss.
Morris just noticed I was freaked out and offered to drive me home."
Jen frowned. "Why were you freaked out?"
Dammit. I hadn't meant to say that. "Um. I just thought I saw some sketchy
guy down the street. Morris didn't want me going home alone. That's all. The
Impact Center isn't in the best part of town."
The worry on Jen's face didn't fade, but she nodded anyway, accepting my
explanation.
"I'm sure the furor will die down in a few days," I continued, not believing my
own words. "People have short attention spans."
"If you say so," Jen said doubtfully. "Just be careful, okay? Fans can be nuts
sometimes."
"You don't have to tell me." I quirked a smile and Jen returned it. The both of
us could be considered crazy fans, depending on the definition.
I kicked Jen out to shower and dress, getting ready to head back to the youth
center. Jessie wanted me to go through the donated instruments and find a
keyboard in good enough shape to use. They got a lot of stuff donated, but it was
rare for anything to be in decent condition.
Waving bye to Jen, I picked up my purse and made my way to the elevator.
The whole way down, I gave myself an internal pep talk, trying to calm my
rising panic. I took out my phone and bought up the selfie I'd taken of me and
Morris back stage at a concert. Just the thought of him helped relieve some of
my anxiety. Taking deep breaths, I thought I'd done a pretty good job of calming
down.
That is, until I stepped outside the apartment building's outer doors and froze.
What if Kevin was waiting for me?
My trembling limbs wouldn't obey my commands as I stood frozen on the
front step. Clutching my purse with both hands until my knuckles turned white,
my eyes darted back and forth, catching every shadow.
Frustrated tears stung my eyes. I didn't want to let Kevin have this much
power over me. I didn't want to be scared any more. Despite my best efforts, my
legs wouldn't take a single step.
The squealing sound of rubber tires caught my attention mere seconds before
a sleek black car came barreling down the street. It took a sharp turn into the
apartment building's parking lot. I jumped back as it came to a jerky stop in front
of me, my stomach leaping into my throat. I recognized the vehicle.
The driver's side window lowered. Morris leaned over, placing his arm on the
open window. "Need a lift?"
When his bright green eyes met mine, a sense of relief raced through me,
washing away the panic and worry. I hurried to the passenger side and
practically threw myself into the seat.
"How's your morning?" Morris pulled out of the driveway at a much more
sedate speed than he'd pulled in.
"Could be better."
His lips turned down into a frown. "You saw that photo?"
Slumping down in my seat, I cringed. "Yeah."
Was he upset someone posted a picture of us? Was he upset at all the
speculation? Unlike the others, Morris tended to stay out of the spotlight,
especially when it came to fans and groupies.
"I'm sorry."
His quiet apology surprised me. "For what?"
"Bringing all this attention on you."
"It's not your fault. Besides, my face was hidden. It even took me a few
seconds to recognize myself."
"Still. I'm sorry for what everyone's saying."
"You mean about me being a groupie?"
Morris flicked his eyes toward me. "Yeah."
His wary tone made me nervous. "Morris? Are they saying other things about
me?"
"It's nothing. Don't worry about it."
I scrambled for my phone in my purse. "You know saying that's only going to
make me worry more."
"Natalie, you shouldn't—"
But it was too late. I was already reading all the comments.
Groupie. Slut. Whore. I was shocked into silence. One photo and everyone
was already going nuts. Great. I was going to be the next Kim Kardashian,
minus the wealth and fame. Thank god there was no sex tape. I'd never get into
teacher's college with something like that hanging over my head.
"Don't pay any attention to them," Morris said, his voice tinted with thinly
veiled anger.
"Is this what it's like for you?" I asked. "People spreading rumors and prying
into your private life all the time?"
"Comes with the job."
He sounded nonchalant, but I felt sick to my stomach. Not because of all the
nasty comments, although they did bug me. I felt sick because I used to be one
of those people. I never spread rumors, no, but I read every piece of news about
the band, followed their every move online, forced them to take pictures with
me. I never thought about how awful that invasion of privacy must feel for them.
I gripped my phone until the plastic case almost creaked.
"Don't let it get to you." The concern in his voice was almost enough to make
me feel better, but the churning in my stomach didn't go away.
I was just as bad as the people calling me a celebrity-chasing slut.
"This will all die down in a few days," he said, using the same words I'd said
to Jen. "Don't think about it." He reached over and plucked my phone out of my
hand, despite my protests and grabbing motions to take it back. "And stop
checking those comments. They'll only upset you." He shoved my phone into his
pocket.
I settled back in my seat, content to let him keep my phone for now. I didn't
really want to keep reading those comments anyway.
Morris flicked his eyes to me again. "No one knows it's you," he said, trying
to sound reassuring.
That spike of fear hit me again. No one knew who I was yet, but what if
they found out? What if they plastered my name and face online for everyone to
see? If I become common news fodder, there was no way Kevin wouldn't find
out. My hands began to shake. I clasped them together and placed them in my
lap, trying to calm the trembling. Morris noticed.
"Sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine."
"You don't seem fine."
"I'm trying to keep a low profile."
"Because of your ex?"
"No," I said automatically.
Morris raised an eyebrow. "No?"
I gave in. "Yes. Sort of. There's also paparazzi and crazy fans to worry about.
If someone figured out who I am, if they figured out where I live—" my voice
faltered, trembling. I couldn't help but worry about worst case scenarios.
Kevin showing up at my door. Coming back for me. Coming for the people I
loved. I couldn't let that happen again.
"You're afraid of him." It wasn't a question this time.
I turned my head to stare out the window and changed the subject.
"So where are we going?" I tried to keep my voice light. "You kind of just
kidnapped me and I never asked where you're taking me."
Morris stared at me for a brief moment, then flicked his eyes back to the road.
"The Impact Center."
"How'd you know I was volunteering again today?"
"I asked Jess. I thought I'd be too late to pick you up."
"You've got perfect timing."
"It's my secret superhero power. Impeccable timing."
"Because you're a drummer?"
"Nah. Even as a kid I was always on time for everything."
I laughed, some of the tension in my chest easing. "I could have gotten there
by myself, you know. I didn't need you to drive me."
Morris tapped his fingertips against the steering wheel in a staccato beat.
"Wanted to make sure you're okay."
Morris was worried about me. I fought to keep butterflies from spewing out of
my mouth, but words tumbled out instead.
"I'm supposed to go to Impact and check out the instruments that have been
donated because Jess said that they get a lot of stuff, but most of it isn't in the
best condition, so I'm supposed to try to find a keyboard that isn't in complete
shambles."
He must have heard the hesitation in my voice. "But?"
But I kind of wanted to just spend the day hiding in my room behind a locked
door. "I don't think I'm up to it today."
His eyes met mine, oddly intense. Then he spoke and a fresh flood of heat
flowed through my every nerve ending.
"Come back to my place."
 Chapter 8


I couldn't help the flush flooding my cheeks. Butterflies took wing in my chest.
Morris had invited me back to his place. I was sure he couldn't mean what it
sounded like.
"Um. Your place? Why?"
"Kell collects instruments. He's a packrat. Somehow they've spilled over to
my place."
I slumped back in my seat, half disappointed, half relieved. I tried to keep the
mood light, not wanting him to know what I'd been thinking. "When you say
somehow you mean he pestered you until you gave in and let him store his
stuff?"
Morris quirked a smile."Exactly. I've got spare keyboards. Ren uses them. You
can pick one out to borrow."
We'd be alone. I'd be alone with Morris. The very thought triggered my
nervous rambling.
"Ren really is a genius. I thought Jen was pretty good when it came to
instruments, but he plays so many, and he's totally mastered them, too. I mean,
bass, piano, violin, is there anything Ren can't play?"
"The theremin."
I was grateful Morris didn't blink at the return of my babbling. "I thought Kell
was joking about that."
"So did we. Then he turned up with one the following week. We all had a go."
"Let me guess. Ren picked it up instantly."
Morris shook his head. "For all his genius, he couldn't figure it out. One more
instrument collecting dust in Kell's collection," he added wryly.
"Did you try it?"
"Don't get any ideas. I'm worse than Ren. Jayce wasn't too bad, though."
"Must be those magic hands of his."
Morris raised an amused eyebrow. I realized I'd made a sex joke about his
band mate in front of him. I couldn't be too embarrassed, though. It was well
known rumor that Jayce was a sex god in the bedroom.
When we pulled up in front of Morris's condo, my nervous energy shifted.
If I thought his luxury car was fancy, it had nothing on his condo. I was taken
aback at how swanky the building looked, although I shouldn't have been. It was
all glass and chrome on the outside, all marble and plush carpets in the foyer.
I was about to ask if there was underground parking when Morris handed his
keys to a waiting attendant, who I assumed would park it for him like a valet.
I decided to never feel bad about letting Morris pay for my coffee ever again.
The interior of Morris's condo was even more impressive, all dark hardwood
floors, plush area rugs and cream colored furniture, with entire walls of floor-to-
ceiling windows. It was tidier than I'd expected, no beer bottles or dirty clothes
strewn everywhere, although there were a few take out containers on the coffee
table and a fair amount of dust on every hard surface. For a bachelor's apartment,
it wasn't that bad.
I went up to one of the windows and stared out at the city skyline. Everything
looked so small. Even the cars on the road looked as tiny as ants. It was a good
thing I wasn't afraid of heights.
"This place is awesome. I love the view."
Morris came up behind me, his chest almost pressed to my back. My cheeks
pinked with a flush as I inhaled sharply. The heat of his body burned into me,
even through our layers of clothing. I caught his reflection in the window. He
wasn't staring out at the city. He was looking down at me, eyes soft and warm.
The urge to turn around, to place my hands on his shoulders and feel the taut
muscles, to rest my cheek against his chest, was overwhelming. I wanted him to
wrap his arms around me, to cradle me against his own body, as if he could
protect me from the world.
This was getting dangerous. I was getting too attached. I took a step to the
side, instantly regretting it as I felt the loss of heat.
"I can't imagine living somewhere as swanky as this, I'd worry about spilling
something on a rug or scratching up the tables. My apartment building is over
thirty years old with cracks in the ceiling and gross stained carpets. It looks like
you're living in one of those home decor magazines, like interior designers came
in and worked their magic."
"They did." Morris didn't follow me, content to let me wander around his
apartment, giving me space. He looked around the place as if seeing it for the
first time. "I'm fine with cheap Ikea furniture and sofas found on street corners.
Ren insisted otherwise."
I wrinkled my nose. "Ew. That's how you get bed bugs."
He let out a light chuckle. "Let me give you the tour."
The kitchen was full of shiny appliances, almost brand new. From the take out
containers piled on the counter, I assumed Morris didn't do a lot of cooking on
his own.
"Should've cleaned," he muttered, picking up a pile of empty containers and
chucking them in the bin.
"Don't worry about it. You should see my room. Actually, on second thought,
I'd rather you not. Your opinion of me will plummet."
"My opinion's that important?"
It was said in a drawn out, teasing tone, but the words were soft, almost
inquisitive. I met his eyes, trying to come up with a joking answer in response.
Nothing came out.
Of course his opinion of me was important. I wanted Morris to like me, to get
to know me, Natalie, and not the fangirl I'd been trying so hard to suppress.
Don't get too close, I reminded myself. You know what could happen if Kevin
is back.
As he continued to throw out empty food containers I wandered over to the
fridge, inspecting the various photos pinned to the front with magnets. Most of
them were of the other guys in the band; candid photos taken behind the scenes
at concerts, or during what looked like jam sessions. Kell's smirking face
featured prominently. From the angles, it looked like he'd shoved himself into
most shots at the last second.
One photo caught my attention because Morris looked so young in it. At least
five or ten years younger, perhaps barely out of high school. He was just as large
as he was now, still tall and broad shouldered, but his face looked rounder, softer.
Another teenager was in the picture with a beaming grin. He had his arm slung
around Morris, though due to the disparity in height, it was a stretch. It looked
like Morris had his own arm around a third person's waist, but that part of the
photo was hidden behind a giant magnet.
Shuffling sounds brought my attention back to Morris. When I turned, I found
him wiping down the counter and laughed. "You don't need to clean just for me.
Why don't you show me the rest of the place?"
One and a half bathrooms, a computer room, an exercise room with every
piece of equipment known to man, and two guest bedrooms later, I was more
than impressed. "Do you have a swimming pool hidden back here, too? Maybe a
vast library with floor to ceiling bookshelves?"
I'd been joking, but as I said the words Morris opened a door to a cozy den
with tall bookshelves lining three of the walls. I gaped in awe.
"It's supposed to be an office, but rock stars don't have paperwork."
"Shh." I put a finger to my lips as I stepped into the room. "I'm having my
Beauty and the Beast moment."
Morris quirked a faint smile. "Am I the beast?"
Yes, after he turned into the handsome prince.
I wandered around the room, running my hands over the spines of hardcover
books, enjoying the feel of tough leather. "Not an ebook person?"
"I hate that clicking sound when I turn the page."
 I'd never thought a man like Morris would have a library like this in his home.
I was uncovering layer after layer, and the more I discovered, the harder it was to
keep my distance. "You're not what everyone thinks you are."
"Neither are you."
I was taken aback, not knowing what he meant by that, but he didn't elaborate.
Morris guided me down the hall to the last two closed doors. He seemed to
hesitate before opening one to another large bedroom, this one the size of a
master suite.
His bedroom.
I took in the king sized bed, comforter laid perfectly flat against the mattress,
tucked into the corners with military precision.
A sharp image of myself rolling around in that bed and messing up the
blankets flicked through my head. In my mind's eye, I saw my myself tangled up
not only in the sheets but with another pair of limbs, legs twined together,
moving as one.
A full body flush came over me. I tried to shake the image but my brain
wouldn't obey.
"So this is your bedroom?" I said, my voice weak. "It's big. I guess you would
need a lot of room, I mean, you're so tall of course you would buy a king sized
bed, it just makes sense, you wouldn't want your feet hanging off the edge."
"Comes in handy for other things, too."
My knees nearly fell out from under me at those teasing words. The image of
the two of us entwined together wouldn't leave me.
I was struggling to pull myself together when a familiar pinging sound came
from Morris's pocket. He still had my phone from when he'd taken it from me in
the car. He pulled it out and handed it to me as it continued pinging with a flurry
of messages. "If it's paparazzi trash, ignore it."
"It's a text from Jen." I swiped to open and read her message. I nearly reeled
back, as if I'd taken a blow to the stomach. I could feel all the blood draining
from my face.
Morris didn't even bother asking what was wrong. He took the phone from my
limp hand and skimmed the words. His face dropped. "Shit."
"Yeah." My voice came out strangled. "Shit."
Jen had sent a panicked message, complete with a dozen exclamation marks
and a handful of links.
I'd been found out.
Somehow, someone had figured out I was the girl in the photo. My name,
photos of me from my high school yearbook and the details of my enrollment at
OPUS were being shared all over the internet, on every blog, on every message
board, on every social media site.
"Dammit." Clenching my phone in his fist, Morris began pacing up and down
the hallway.
I tried to force a smile on my face. "At least they don't have my home
address."
Blowing out a noisy breath through his nose, Morris ran his hand over the
stubble on his jaw. "If your ex found out…" The words were quiet, but low in his
chest, almost a growl.
Morris was worried about me. It was enough to warm me from the inside, but
his words were like a splash of freezing cold water.
He was right. My face was everywhere now. There was no way Kevin
wouldn't find me. A chill went through my body. Not wanting Morris to see how
afraid I was, I dropped my eyes to the ground, looking away.
"Let's go out again," Morris suggested, rushed and urgent. "In public. Where
everyone can see."
I whipped my head up to gape at him. "Um, how about no. That's the exact
opposite of what I want. I don't need to draw any more attention to myself than I
already have. If Kevin finds me…" The fact that I was afraid of him, of what he
might do, went unsaid.
"We can fix that."
"How?"
He stared at me, green eyes burning into mine.
"Be my girlfriend."
 Chapter 9


I blinked. I couldn't process the words that had come out of Morris's mouth.
"What?"
"Be my girlfriend." He repeated the words lightly, but the fierce look in his
eyes as he stared into mine was anything but flippant.
"Girlfriend?" I said weakly.
"We go out in public. Pretend we're a couple. Scare off your ex."
Oh.
Pretend.
"Right. A fake relationship." My chest tightened with a mix of relief and utter
disappointment. "I don't think that's a good idea."
"Why not? Your ex will think twice about messing with you if he knows I'll be
there to protect you."
But who would protect Morris? He had no idea what Kevin was capable of.
He had no idea what Kevin did to my other exes. He sensed my hesitation.
"I'm intimidating, remember?" He gave me a wry look. "I'm like an MMA
fighter, bodyguard, and bouncer all rolled into one."
If anyone could scare off Kevin, if anyone could take care of himself and
watch out for me, it would be Morris.
I met his eyes, trying to decipher what he was thinking, but they were the
same combination of intense and amused.
"It might work," I acknowledged.
"Think you can handle having a rock star boyfriend for a few months?" he
asked.
A few months? I struggled to contain myself, not wanting to make any
overzealous outbursts. Pretending to date Morris for an entire summer had the
potential to undo my sanity completely.
"I suppose I could manage that," I said, aiming for a breezy tone. "Think you
can handle having a babbling idiot girlfriend for a few months?"
"You mean having a lively, gorgeous, young woman on my arm? It'll be a real
struggle," he drawled, a faint smile on his lips.
I felt my face flush and tried to stutter a response, but Morris just moved on
smoothly. "Let's finish the tour. The only thing left is the room where I store the
keyboards. Though it's not just storage."
Morris opened the last door. He was right. The room looked like a cross
between a man-cave and music store. Along with the mismatched, squishy
looking sofas and armchairs, there were records hanging on the walls, multiple
guitars placed upright in their stands, drum sets arranged in each corner, and
other instruments strewn about. As lived in as it seems, everything was kept in
pristine condition. No signs of dust anywhere.
"We hold jam sessions here," he said. "Our practice room at the studio is too
corporate. Too sterile for writing new music. Stifles our creativity."
I could just picture the guys hanging out, playing around and laughing with
each other, just a bunch of guys making music with their friends.
"I can see what you mean. The practice rooms at OPUS are pretty bleak. I'd
love to have a place like this."
Morris opened his mouth, but closed it without speaking a word, his
expression looking rueful. I wondered what he was going to say. My eyes caught
a few keyboards at the far end of the room.
"Are these the ones?"
There were four of them. Three looked standard but the fourth had two levels
of keys.
"Try them out," Morris urged, plugging all four of them into a power bar. "See
which feels best."
I ran my hands over the keys of the dual-layer one first, even though I knew I
wouldn't use it. "I'd love to try this one out, just for the challenge, but I think the
kids at the youth center probably wouldn't be able to pull it off. It's better to start
off easy."
The keys of the second one felt smooth and cool under my fingertips. "This
one's got a nice sound." I moved on to the third, playing a few notes. I grimaced.
"I don't like the feel of these keys."
"What's wrong?" Morris asked, intrigued.
"I don't know. They feel fake. Plastic. Hollow."
The moment I pressed the first key on the fourth, a shiver went up my spine. I
played a few more notes to make sure. "This one. This one's perfect."
"Not too plastic?"
"No. It feels like a real piano."
"That one has weighted keys."
"I can tell." I played a few more notes. Warmth filled my chest. I could feel
myself relaxing, my nerves calming. "It feels like…" I trailed off.
"Feels like what?" Morris asked quietly.
"Warm. Organic. It's the same feeling I get when I sit down at a grand piano.
There's this weird combination of peacefulness and power. Of substance.
Significance. Like I'm connected to the music in this profound way." I looked
down at my fingers poised on the keys, hovering. "That probably sounds
ridiculous."
A broad chest pressed against my back. Warm breath tickled the hairs on the
top of my head. Large hands came to rest upon mine. I shivered again, for an
entirely different reason.
"It doesn't sound ridiculous." Morris leaned down, speaking into my ear. The
brush of his lips against my bare skin, of his fingers gently stroking mine, sent
fire racing through me.
The fire burning inside my body made me bold. Daring. This time, instead of
running away, I turned around in the circle of his arms, meeting those bright
green eyes.
"I feel a connection, too," he said quietly.
My heart thumped wildly. Did he mean…?
"When I play the drums, when I feel the beat pulsing through me, it grounds
me. Like I'm connected to this greater power. To something bigger than myself."
Those words sparked a light inside me. A flicker of kinship, of wonder, filled
my chest. "That's exactly it. I didn't think anyone else felt the same way. People
always say—" I bit my lip, cutting myself off.
Morris's brows drew down into a frown. "What do they say?"
"That I'm too melodramatic. Too emotional and excitable. That I get carried
away all the time."
"Nothing wrong with that."
I gave a soft snort. "You're just saying that."
"I'm not. Believe me. Getting carried away just means you're passionate about
something." His usual solemn expression softened into a smile.
My heart went into overdrive as my brain yelled at me abort abort abort.
"I should probably call Jessie," I said, my rambling instincts kicking in as I
turned away from him. "She's going to be wondering why I haven't shown up
yet. I'll have to tell her I already found a keyboard so we can get started on that
rock band class soon."
He stared at me for a few moments, looking bemused. "So this is it?" he
asked, running his own fingers over the keys. "I'm glad you could find one you
liked. I'll pack it up and take it to Impact."
As Morris walked me out of his apartment, I considered his offer.
"So this fake relationship thing," I said, hesitant. "How's that going to work?"
"How do you think?"
"Going on dates, I guess." I paused, thinking. "To dinner or something?
Maybe see a movie?"
There was a slight upward tilt of his lips, as if I amused him. "I can think of
something much more interesting."
 "Like what? What exactly do rock stars do when they date? Will you be taking
me out to raging, drunken parties? Invite me backstage at shows?"
When his eyes met mine I was perturbed to find them sparkling with humor.
"You ever walked a red carpet before?"
 Chapter 10


"This is amazing!"
Hands clasped to chest and heartbeat thundering, I couldn't help the high-
pitched squeal coming out of my mouth.
"Oh my god, that's—!" I cut myself off as the star of Hollywood's latest
blockbuster film franchise, the star of the movie we were on our way to see,
turned his head in my direction. I whirled around before I could be caught
staring. "And those guys, I thought they were touring in Europe?" My eyes
caught a tall blond singer-songwriter known for breaking hearts. "Wait, is that
who I think it is? No way!"
"You all right?" Morris asked.
"No. I can't breathe. My heart can't take this. I'm going to die."
He hummed a faint sound of amusement. "Please don't."
If I thought spending time with a famous rock star would cure me of my
fangirl ways, I was sadly mistaken. With every celebrity I recognized, my energy
level doubled, until I really was afraid I would puke.
"How did I even get here?"
"We're on a date."
"That was a rhetorical question. Pinch me. I think I'm dreaming."
Morris slid his arm from its position around my waist, down to the small of
my back, and stroked with light fingers. My breath caught in my throat.
"That wasn't a pinch," I said in a small voice.
Morris leaned down to speak in my ear over the noise of the crowd. "Wasn't
it?" The words were said lightly, his face solemn as usual, but I could hear the
teasing note beneath them. My skin burned from the heat of his fingers, even
through the fabric of my dress. I made myself breathe shallow breaths. I had to
get a hold of myself.
To distract my thoughts away from Morris and his warm hands, I made it a
point to take in the haute couture and expensive brand name outfits the other
women were wearing, mentally comparing theirs to mine.
I didn't own many dresses fancy enough for a red carpet event. I was wearing
the same one I'd worn to Ivy's launch party, where I'd first been introduced to
Morris in person. It was a tight black shimmery little thing with a plunging
neckline. I'd done my hair and makeup as best I could with only a few hours
notice.
When Morris told me he was taking me to a movie premiere, I thought he'd
meant sometime later in the week, not that very evening. He'd laughed when I
freaked out. A few hours wasn't long enough to get ready for that kind of event.
Somehow I'd managed to put together a somewhat red carpet worthy look,
even without the dozen stylists celebrities could afford.
Morris, as rock stars do, simply wore jeans and a t-shirt, although he yielded
to the occasion by wearing a sports coat over top.
The moment we'd stepped out of the limo Morris insisted on taking, we were
assaulted with flashing camera lights and shouting voices. He took my hand and
helped me out of the vehicle. I kept my thighs pressed together, not wanting to
add a flashing incident on top of everything else.
The bright lights and shouting ceased to be a concern the moment I laid my
eyes on all the other attendees.
"I'm never going to forget this moment for the rest of my life," I said fervently
as we began to walk down the literal red carpet.
There was a section for the media, journalists holding out microphones, and
camera operators with heavy equipment hoisted on their shoulders. They shouted
questions to passing celebrities, shoving mics in their faces. A squirmy feeling
ran up my back. Who knew which journalists were legit and which ones were
paparazzi out looking for a scandal?
Morris must have sensed my unease. "Don't worry. We're not talking to them."
"Don't you have to? Celebrities always answer questions from reporters on
TV."
"I'm not the interview type. Just stand here for pictures."
A nervous fluttering made my stomach clench. "I'm going to end up
everywhere. TV, magazines… I never wanted to be famous."
"Most people won't care," Morris said, trying to reassure me. "It's not like I'm
Brad Pitt. I play drums in a rock band."
I shifted from foot to foot, agitated. "What if my mom and dad see? They're
going to be mad I didn't tell them I'm dating a famous rock star."
"Do they watch trashy entertainment shows?"
"Not really."
Morris patted me on the back in a smoothing motion, his hand so large the
fingers spanned from shoulder blade to shoulder blade. "It'll be okay," he said
quietly.
I craned my neck around to find a stretch of people cheering and hooting, held
back from the red carpet by barriers and bodyguards. I assumed those were the
fans and members of the general public. I wondered how many were Feral
Silence fans, if any of them would recognize Morris. Sure, drummers were
hidden away at the back like he'd said, but real music fans would know who he
was.
I didn't have to wonder for long.
"Morris! Who's the girl?"
"Hey, are you Natalie?!"
"Is she your girlfriend?"
"Where did you meet?!"
The questions went on and on, but Morris didn't acknowledge them. He
simply waved to the fans, a faint smile lifting the usual somber expression he
wore in public. I didn't know what to do, whether I should smile and wave as
well, or ignore the masses. I stared at the pointed toes of my high heeled pumps.
I was forced to look up in surprise when Morris hooked his arm around my
waist, swinging me around until our fronts were pressed together. I blinked as he
took my hand and placed a soft kiss on my knuckles. His lips curved into a smile
that I could feel on my now overly-sensitive skin.
"I'm not much for PDA," he explained in quiet tones. "But we need to give
them something to work with if we want to make the news."
Every heave of my chest pressed us closer together. I could feel the firm
muscles of his own broad chest through his thin t-shirt.
"You mind?" he nodded his head toward the crowd. I didn't get his meaning at
first, my brain nearly short circuiting from how close were. "I should probably
sign autographs, shake hands."
"Should I…?" I wasn't sure whether to tag along or stay far away.
"Just stand behind me and smile. You don't have to talk to them."
As we approached the crowd, their screaming and shouting raised in pitch.
Hands were thrust out and waving as each fan hoped to get that brush with fame.
Unfazed by the commotion, Morris simply nodded at each fan in turn as he
scrawled his signature and shook hands, looking each one in their eyes and
thanking them sincerely.
This crowd wasn't as crazy as some of the ones I'd seen at Feral Silence
concerts. I assumed the presence of the barriers and security guards made them
behave themselves.
I winced as a piercing squeal hit my eardrums, nearly busting them. One girl
threw herself over the barrier, scrambling up and over to launch herself at
Morris.
He jolted back, eyes wide, but she grabbed his shirt, clinging tight. He tried to
free himself, but she wouldn't let go, continuing to squeal and yammer at him,
the words spoken too fast to make sense.
The surprise on Morris's face shifted to panic. The girl had latched on to him
tight, as if she were attempting to rip his shirt from his body.
 I darted forward, thinking perhaps I could get between the two. I made it a
few steps before the security guards intervened and hauled the shrieking girl
away.
"Are you okay?" I asked, coming to stand near him.
Morris nodded silently, but his eyes were still wide, his mouth pinched.
"Let's go," he murmured, wrapping an arm around my waist and ushering me
away.
I reached out to smooth down his t-shirt, wrinkled where the girl has gripped
it tight in her fist. I stopped when I saw long red marks trailing down his neck.
Puzzled, I ran my fingertip along one of the marks, until it dawned on me.
"She scratched you!" I cried, indignant.
Morris brought a hand to his throat and rubbed. "It's fine," he said quietly.
"It's not fine!"
Morris pressed me closer to his side. "I've had worse."
"That's not reassuring." The red lines reached the collar of his shirt. "Does it
hurt?"
"No."
I traced one long line until it reached the hem. Without thinking, I pulled the
material down a few inches, wanting to see how far the scratches went. I
frowned when I saw ridges of raised skin, a series of thick, angry red scars.
Morris pulled away with a sharp jerk, startling me.
"What—"
"It's nothing," Morris said shortly. "Forget about it."
I was taken aback by the curt tone. I opened my mouth to continue asking, but
thought better of it.
"We should get going and find our seats," he continued in a quiet voice.
I nodded silently and let him guide me inside.
I should have been overwhelmed by the ornate theater, the cushy leather
chairs more like armchair recliners than movie theater seats, but I was too
distracted. I could barely take in my surroundings, let alone pay attention to the
action-packed movie flashing across the screen.
I couldn't get the image of those scars out of my head. They had started a few
inches below Morris's collarbone and continued downwards. How far did they
go? How had he gotten them?
Then another thought occurred to me. Fans always thought it was just a quirk,
something that made Morris stand out from the other members of the band, or
maybe that he was shy. I'd never thought to question it before.
Were those scars why Morris never took his shirt off on stage?
 Chapter 11


When the movie reached the credits Morris leaned over to whisper in my ear.
"What did you think?"
"It was great," I lied. I hadn't paid attention to a single word. "Thanks for
taking me."
"You did me a favor. I wanted to see it. I didn't have to show up alone."
He could have invited any girl he wanted, any number of actresses or models.
Instead, Morris had invited me.
Of course, I forcefully reminded myself, Morris only took me because we
were pretending to be in a relationship. We had to be seen in public going on
dates. That's why we were here together.
But that didn't explain why. Why had Morris suggested a fake relationship in
the first place? It would hopefully make Kevin think twice about trying to mess
with me, but why should Morris care? This whole situation seemed like a huge
imposition on his life. Why would he go through all this trouble just to help me?
I contemplated that thought as Morris lead me out the back door to a waiting
taxi.
"The media circus is over," he said. "We can sneak out the back."
"No limousine?" I asked as the taxi peeled out of the back parking lot with a
squeal of tires. I clung to my seatbelt to keep from being thrown around.
"Don't need to show off for the cameras," Morris explained, not seeming to
notice our driver trying to reenact The Fast And The Furious. "Rock stars have a
reputation to uphold."
"And what reputation is that?" I asked, silently praying to every god that
existed we wouldn't crash.
"Adoring fans, flashy cars, and beautiful women." He threw me a soft smile as
I tried not to blush.
Glancing out the window of the taxi, Morris frowned. "I think someone's
following us. Paparazzi, maybe." He glanced at me. "Come home with me. Don't
want them following us to your place."
"Sure," I said, trying not to sound breathless. "Your place. Right."
Morris leaned forward and murmured the change of plans to the driver.
Nerves threatened to take over my common sense. This was just part of the
ploy. Pretending to date, pretending to go home with him. Nothing was going to
happen.
A warmth spread from my cheeks, down my belly, to my very core.
 We were mostly silent on the way to his place. Morris talked about the movie
while I nodded and made sounds of agreement, not having much to add to the
conversation. My stomach fluttered the whole time.
His condo was spotless when we arrived. He must have cleaned while I'd been
getting ready. Either that or he'd hired a maid service to come in for a rush job.
That made more sense, considering how sparkling clean it was. Not a hint of
dust or take out container in sight.
"Did you enjoy our first date?" Morris wandered over to the kitchen and
pulled two bottles of water from the fridge.
"It was an experience."
Morris handed me one of the bottles, a wry smile on his face. "A little too
much excitement for you?"
"I don't think my heart can take another event like that. I'm pretty excitable to
begin with."
"I've noticed."
I would have felt chagrinned, but he said it with such a teasing drawl, I
couldn't help feel like Morris didn't mind. It seemed more like he found my
outbursts amusing rather than annoying. That would be a first for me.
"You think your ex will stay away now?" Morris asked.
"He's probably not even in town," I replied automatically, so used to
pretending that he wasn't a problem. That he wasn't a threat. I had to pretend or
else I'd go insane with worry. I couldn't live with that kind of fear day in and day
out.
Morris just gave me a patient look. I thought about it for a moment.
"I don't know. If he's around—" I hesitated.
"Is he the type to be scared off easily?"
"No," I said softly.
Morris came to stand next to me. I had to crane my neck up to meet his eyes.
When I did, I saw that familiar flicker of warmth. He brought a hand to my
cheek, thumb tracing the underside of my jaw. My throat closed up as that
sweeping thumb brushed over the wildly racing pulse in my neck.
"We'll just have to make sure he gets the hint." Morris gave me a soft smile
and let me go, taking a few steps back.
I nearly reeled from the shock of losing his touch. I took a few shallow
breaths, trying to calm my rapid heartbeat. I needed to get a hold of myself or
else I'd do something I'd regret.
Like throw myself into his arms and never let go.
"Why are you doing all this?" I asked, my voice almost strangled.
"All what?" he asked, feigning innocence.
 "Inviting me for coffee and lending me your keyboard, and letting me ramble
at you and pretending to date me."
Morris tilted his head, giving me a considering look. "I need a reason?"
I just stared at him.
"It's like I said before," he said with a casual shrug. "You remind me of
someone. I wanted to help."
Was it a girl? Was he thinking of her every time he looked at me? Was he
comparing me to her? My heart squeezed in my chest, a painful ache thumping
beneath my ribcage. The thought shouldn't have hurt as much as it did. I tried to
lighten the conversation.
"But not Kell, right?" I forced a smile on my face.
Morris chuckled, an unexpectedly cheery laugh. "You're nothing like Kell."
"I don't know, the both of us do tend to ramble on, I mean, it's not like I'm as
vain or egotistical as him, but I do think I'm pretty good at the piano and I guess
that could be considered narcissistic, but really I think it's just important for
people to recognize their strengths and—"
Morris cupped my face with both large hands. Thumbs swept across my
cheekbones. That flicker of heat in his eyes was back. I swallowed hard, my
breath catching in my throat.
"Natalie?"
"Y-yes?"
"Stop talking."
And then his mouth was on mine.
 Chapter 12


Soft lips pressing firmly. The scent of oak and ash. A teasing tongue seeking
entrance.
I let out a choked sound and pulled away, leaving a scant few inches between
Morris's mouth and mine. Lifting my eyes to meet his, I found amusement laced
with concern. I was almost too taken aback to fully process what had happened.
Morris had kissed me.
Soft lips. Oak and ash.
Morris had kissed me and I'd pulled away.
He opened his mouth to speak, maybe to ask what was wrong, why I'd
stopped. He didn't get a chance. I threw myself at him, pressing my entire body
against his, melting against him as strong arms encircled my waist. We brushed
lips for the second time. A powerful hunger ignited inside me.
Wrapping my arms around his neck and standing on my tiptoes, I let my
tongue slide against his, hot and slick. When Morris sucked on my bottom lip I
whimpered. When teeth bit down lightly I let out a small moan. Liquid heat ran
down my spine, centering between my legs with a sweet, pulsing ache.
Strong hands ran up and down my sides, from my hip bones to the edge of my
bra, leaving a blazing hot trail. Questioning fingertips ran along the hem of my
dress, almost but not quite lifting to reveal my upper thighs. I pulled away again,
hesitant.
What was this, exactly? What were we doing? Why was he doing it? Too
many questions filled my head.
"I can hear you freaking out inside," he said with a wry smile.
"It's just— I don't— Why are—?"
Morris brushed my bottom lip with the pad of his thumb, the slight gesture
stunning me into silence. "Natalie. Stop thinking. Just feel. Can you do that?"
I swallowed hard and gave him a shaky nod. His lips returned to mine, as hot
and fevered as before.
As we kissed, I tried to let my mind go blank, to just enjoy the sensation of
lips to lips, tongue to tongue. One large hand pressed the small of my back,
urging my hips forward to grind against his. The hardness of him made my mind
spiral out of control again. Was he really this excited because of me? Did I turn
him on this much? Or was he thinking of somebody else as we kissed?
"Hold on to me," Morris murmured as both hands cupped me from behind.
The warmth of his palms against my backside caused all thoughts to flee. I
clung to him, clutching at his neck and shoulders. My legs wrapped around his
hips instinctively as he hoisted me up. My breasts molded to his hard chest as he
pushed me up against the wall.
With my dress bunched at my waist, the rough scratch of his jeans rubbed me
in all the right places. My cotton panties and his metal zipper were the only thing
separating us from being skin to skin. All he had to do was unzip, tug my panties
to the side and—
A full body shudder went through me as I envisioned Morris sliding inside
me, thick and hot.
"Hold tight." He swung us around, heading toward his bedroom in long
strides. My brain yammered at me again, questioning why and how and what do
you think you're doing?!
I hastily told my inner voice to shut the hell up as Morris threw me down onto
the bed, climbed on top of me, and pried my lips open with his tongue.
As we kissed, his fingers trailed up and down my sides with the lightest of
touches, leaving me shivering. When he reached my shoulders, his fingertips
played with the thin straps of my dress, inching them down my arms. His lips
left mine, kissing my cheek, the hollow of my throat, then my collarbone, slowly
exposing my bra as he tugged down the dress.
I inhaled sharply when his tongue darted out to taste the swell of my breasts.
He slid his hands underneath me until he reached the small hooks of my bra.
"Is this okay?" he murmured.
The slightest movement of his lips against my skin sent jolts through me. I
choked out a soft affirmation, unable to use words.
With deft fingers, my bra was unsnapped and unceremoniously dropped to the
floor. He cupped me with both hands, his callused thumbs stroking lazy circles.
The touch was too light, too soft. It wasn't enough. I arched my back with a quiet
moan, seeking more.
He understood my plea. Lips and teeth and tongue attacked one nipple while a
finger and thumb plucked at the other, sending me into a frenzy. I squirmed and
bucked my hips, the sensations racing straight to my core.
Half naked, with my dress pushed down to my waist and bra long gone, I
should have felt self-conscious or vulnerable. Instead, the way Morris was
kissing me, touching me, both reverent and passionate at the same time, made
me wanton and shameless.
I couldn't think beyond the haze of pleasure singing through my veins. I just
wanted more. I sat up and grabbed my dress, pulling it over my head and tossing
it to the floor. The fierce glint in his eyes as he roved up and down my body told
me he liked what he saw. The bulge in his pants twitched, filling out, growing
harder and thicker. I flushed then, not from embarrassment, but from an almost
smug satisfaction, knowing that I affected him as much as he affected me.
"Lie back," he urged.
I reclined on the mattress, keeping myself propped up on my elbows so I
could watch him. As he continued to kiss and suck at my breasts, fingers
skimmed my legs, starting at my knees, trailing along the outside of my thighs,
then heading inward. The rough slide of his fingers so close to where I wanted
them, needed them, sent me reeling. As he inched closer to the valley between
my legs, I parted them unconsciously, wanting to feel his touch. I was already
wet with desire.
He looked up, not taking his eyes off mine as he hooked two fingers
underneath the elastic of my panties. I let out a short whimper.
"You want this?" he asked, voice deep, almost a growl.
"God yes," I said with a shaky gasp.
He tugged downwards, following the path with trailing kisses until I was
completely bared to him. I had a few scant moments to realize I was naked while
he was still fully clothed before he grasped both thighs in his hands, spread me
open and attacked my clit with his tongue.
I let out a shriek and collapsed back onto the bed, my arms flailing. The only
thing keeping me from completely flying apart was the firm grasp of his hands
on my hips, holding me down. I panted and moaned and squirmed, unable to
handle the onslaught of sensations. I almost didn't notice when he pressed the tip
of one finger against my opening, but I definitely felt it when it pushed in. I
groaned, my wetness easing the way. The rough drag of his skin against my
inner walls, the friction of it, felt so good I could barely think.
He pushed a second finger inside, the whole time licking and sucking at my
clit. I grabbed at the short strands of his hair, tugging him closer, pleading with
him. He did something with his tongue, flicking and swirling, then crooked his
two fingers inside me and I exploded, pleasure seeping from every pore, racing
from my very center to the tips of my fingers and toes. My body bowed off the
bed until only my feet and shoulders touched the mattress.
It went on and on, never ending; the twist of his tongue, the suction of his lips,
the grazing of his rough fingers inside me almost too much. My throat closed up
and eyes squeezed shut. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe, as searing hot pleasure
surged through me. I let out a final moan as my vision went white and fuzzy
around the edges.
After long moments, I felt my body relax, coming back down from the high
and falling back onto the bed. I had barely collected my wits about me when
Morris crawled up my body and kissed me softly. I could taste myself on his lips
as I panted into his mouth, still winded.
We laid side by side in silence as I fought to catch my breath. It might have
been awkward, except for clasp of his hand over mine, the circles he drew on the
back of my hand with his fingertips.
"How's that to take your mind off things?" Morris rumbled with a low teasing
voice.
"Is that was this was?" I choked out.
"Bet you aren't thinking about your asshole ex any more."
"Last thing on my mind."
When last few clouds of pleasure dispersed and I was able to think again, I
rolled over on my side and lifted my eyes to meet his.
"Why?" I asked, my voice still shaky. I needed to know. Was this just a part of
the whole fake relationship thing?
Gathering me close, he pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "Nothing wrong
with getting carried away once in a while."
I relaxed back into his arms, remembering the rest of his words.
Getting carried away just means you're passionate about something.
 Chapter 13


Morris was a cuddler. He kept his arms wrapped around me for much longer
than I would have expected. Not that I was complaining. As long as I was in his
bed, as long as I was in his arms, I felt safe. Protected. Like nothing could hurt
me.
I shifted uncomfortably at the thought, wriggling out of his hold.
I couldn't get attached. I wouldn't let myself get attached. He'd said I reminded
him of someone. Someone he used to date? Someone he used to love?
This whole thing had nothing to do with me and everything to do with him.
Bitter disappointment hit my chest, but I forced it down.
I stood from the bed, avoiding his eyes, and scooped up my clothes strewn
about on the floor. He'd stripped me completely naked, but Morris still wore his
clothes, his customary tight t-shirt straining at the sleeves from his bulging upper
arms. I thought about the scars I'd seen on his chest. Was he that worried about
someone seeing his scars, that he wouldn't take off his shirt even during sex?
I pushed the thought aside, cleaning myself up and pulling my bra and dress
back on. I couldn't find my panties.
"Looking for something?"
Morris reclined back on the bed, my panties dangling from one finger. He
pulled away when I tried to snatch them out of his hand.
"Maybe I'll keep them as a souvenir."
"I'm not walking out of this apartment without underwear."
"Guess you're trapped here forever," he said solemnly, but there was a faint
smile on his face.
I thought he'd continue teasing me but he handed them back. The brush of his
fingers against mine shouldn't have affected me the way it did. He'd just had
those fingers inside me, bringing me to orgasm, and yet I couldn't help the shiver
of pleasure that ran up my spine.
As I slid my panties back on, I couldn't stop the thought that maybe it
wouldn't be so bad being trapped in this room with Morris forever.
I didn't want things to get awkward, but what exactly did you say after having
sex with a famous rock star? Thanks? That was amazing? Exactly how many
girls have you eaten out on this bed, anyway?
The thought that I was another notch on his bedpost, a substitute for another
woman, made my chest ache. I had to remind myself this was just two people
fooling around for fun. No deeper meaning than that. I steeled myself. Okay. I
could handle this.
"I should probably get going."
"I'll drive you home."
"I'm sure you've got better things to do than to chauffeur me around all day."
"Not really. I'll text the valet to bring my car around."
When I was fully dressed Morris and I rode the elevator to the first floor. The
valet was just pulling the car up when we stepped out the doors. Impeccable
timing indeed.
The ride was silent. Morris kept throwing glances my way, that same
combination of amusement and worry. Was he afraid I was going to freak out
after having sex? Have regrets? Or maybe he was worried I'd turn into that
clingy girl when we were just having fun.
He pulled into my apartment complex with a squeal of tires as I gripped my
seat for dear life. I supposed I'd have to get used to death defying speeds if this
was going to be a regular occurrence.
I undid my seatbelt and fiddled with my purse. "Thank you."
He quirked a small smile.
"For driving me." I didn't want him thinking I was thanking him for the sex,
although I did feel pretty grateful for the distraction that orgasm brought.
"It was my pleasure." The heat in his voice was unmistakable.
I slid out of the car and slammed the door shut behind me, almost running up
the apartment front steps.
When I walked in the door, Ivy and Jen both looked up from the sofa, turned
to face each other, then leapt to their feet.
"Is there something you want to tell us?" Jen asked, big grin on her face.
"About a certain famous rock star?" Ivy asked.
"Who just happens to be all over the news with his new girlfriend?"
"Um." How could I explain it to them without also having to explain about
Kevin? "Morris and I…"
"Are dating!" Jen and Ivy both cheered in unison.
"Not exactly."
Ivy's face fell.
Jen just looked eager. "Tell. Us. Everything."
"We're not really dating." I dropped my purse on the coffee table and flopped
down on the closest armchair, trying to sink into the cushions, as if that would let
me avoid this conversation. "He's doing me a favor."
"In what way?" Ivy asked.
I decided to make up something on the fly. "The paparazzi were calling me a
slutty groupie. I didn't want to get a bad reputation, or, you know, end up as the
next Kim Kardashian. I don't need that kind of thing following me around when
I apply to teacher's college. So Morris came up with the idea to pretend we're a
couple. Make it official, so they stop dragging my name through the mud." That
was good enough, right?
Jen scrunched her face up in distaste. "Pretend? You mean you're not getting
any hot rock star action in the sheets?"
My blush gave me away. Ivy squealed and clasped her hands over her mouth.
"Maybe it's not quite so pretend after all?" Jen asked, sly smile on her face.
"It was just a one-time thing," I muttered. It had to be. I was going to make
sure of it. It had been fun, yes — mind blowing even — but I wasn't going to let
Morris use me as a substitute for some girl he was still pining after.
"I don't know," Jen said with a wicked lilt, "he seemed pretty into you from
those photos."
"What photos?"
"From the movie premiere. The one where you and Morris practically made
out on the red carpet. They're all over the internet."
"We did not make out. He kissed the back of my hand."
"For Morris, that's as close to making out in public we've ever seen."
As Feral Silence fans, Jen and I knew everything about the band members'
public relationships, or lack thereof. While the others made no secret of their
love lives — or in Kell's case, flaunted it — Morris kept his affairs private. For
him to take me out in public like that was out of character.
It made me wonder, for the hundredth time, why he was doing all this. It
couldn't just be because I reminded him of some girl, no matter how much he
may have loved her.
"You know," Ivy said thoughtfully, "Morris did ask a few times whether I'd be
inviting my friends to that launch party a few months ago."
Jen's eyes lit up. "Interesting. Did he ever mention Nat by name?"
"No. I've talked about you guys in front of them before, but Morris never
seemed to take much notice."
"Of course he wouldn't have mentioned my name. Until Jessie brought us
together for that rock band class, the most interaction we'd ever had was
excitable babbling on my part after concerts surrounded by throngs of fans."
"Are there going to be more dates?" Jen inquired.
"We haven't made any plans. I suppose we'll want to go out in public a few
more times to sell the fake relationship thing."
"How long are you going to pretend to date?" Ivy asked.
"A couple months, maybe."
Long enough to scare off Kevin. Long enough for Morris and I to work
together on that rock band class. After that, we'd have no reason to see each
other again. He'd go back to being a rock star and I'd go back to being a student.
We'd probably see each other occasionally, because of our connection to Ivy and
Ren, but I doubted he would want a fangirl hanging around for any longer than
necessary.
And that was a good thing, I tried to convince myself.
Morris liked me because I reminded him of someone. As long as he continued
to compare me to some other girl, he'd never be interested in the real me. I'd
always be second best.
Besides, what rock star would ever truly be interested in some excitable
fangirl with emotional baggage and a stalker ex-boyfriend? We'd go through
with this fake relationship, get my ex off my back, and then go our separate
ways.
That would be best for the both of us.
 Chapter 14


"Let's bring the height down a few inches," I suggested to Micah, the young teen
I was currently teaching keyboard. "You don't want to play with your wrists
arched like that. Do you remember how to adjust it?"
"Yes, I think so." He jumped up and began fiddling with the keyboard stand
Morris had so generously donated.
"Anya, Chris, why don't you practice singing while running? It will help your
endurance."
Chris readily agreed and took off, doing laps around the room while singing at
the top of his lungs.
Anya grimaced. "Gross. I hate running. It's so boring."
"What do you like to do?"
She scrunched her face up in thought. "I like jump rope. I can sing while
doing that!" She raced out of the room, no doubt heading to the nearest gym
room to find a jump rope.
"How's it going?" Jessie asked, coming to stand beside me.
"Slow going," I admitted. "We're still stuck on proper piano posture."
"My kids are already complaining about getting blisters on their fingers."
"Anya runs out of breath after thirty seconds of singing. Chris doesn't know
the difference between shouting and singing."
"I don't think Morris is doing any better with his kids." Jessie laughed and
pointed to where the drummer, with endless patience, instructed a couple of kids
to hold the drumsticks loose in the hand, not gripped tight with a fist.
I couldn't help but laugh along with her. "I was wondering why I wasn't
hearing drum beats or cymbals crashing."
"Gotta start with the basics. Besides, it's early days, yet."
We'd finally started our rock music class for the kids at the youth center.
About two dozen had signed up, mostly tweens and younger teens, so we'd split
them into groups. Each would learn a different song and perform at the end of
the summer. Of course, none of us expected the kids to be any good with only a
few months of practice, but we knew their friends and family members would
cheer them on regardless. Either way, they would have a fun time.
If we ever managed to get an actual instrument into their hands, that is.
"Good thing Morris has a lot of patience," I said. "I'd never have thought
someone like him would be willing to put up with a bunch of hyperactive kids."
"He gave me the idea," Jessie said. "I mentioned to him that our new volunteer
was an OPUS student who played piano. He seemed very interested in meeting
you. I got the idea for us all to work together."
That gave me pause. Had Morris known who I was before Jessie had even
introduced us? Had he known who I was from the party? If so, why hadn't he
said anything?
"It's been about an hour," Jessie continued, glancing at the clock on the wall.
"I think the kids are starting to get restless. Let's finish for the day."
They helped put all the equipment away with minimal whining, then were
ushered out by Jessie.
"More difficult than I thought." Morris tucked away the last few pieces of the
drum kit into a storage closet and gave me a wry look. "I don't think we're going
to find many prodigies in this group."
"It's just for fun," I replied. "I'll be impressed if most of them manage to play
thirty seconds of The Beatles' Let It Be."
Morris came up behind me and pressed his chest to my back.
"Want to go get some lunch?" he said quietly.
"Um. Sure." I allowed myself to soak in the warmth of his body for a few long
moments, savoring it, before turning around and taking a few steps back. If
Morris continued to be touchy-feely it would be that much harder to keep him at
arm's length. "Another date? Where we going? Somewhere public?"
Morris placed his arm around my waist and guided me out the door. "Why
don't we go old fashioned and get fries and a shake?"
My mouth watered. "That sounds amazing."
The place Morris took me to was old fashioned all right. The decor was all
'50s-style diner with checkered floor, jukeboxes, and bright red vinyl booths.
"I like this place," I told him. "I half expected you to take me to another hole
in the wall, like that coffee shop. I feel like I'm in the movie Grease." I turned
my head this way and that as waitresses on roller skates wheeled by.
"Did you want to be Sandy growing up?" Morris asked.
"Are you kidding? Rizzo all the way."
Morris eyed me in amusement. "You don't seem like the bad girl type."
"Looks can be deceiving." I threw Morris a grin.
A commotion a few feet away caught my attention. A chorus of chattering,
high-pitched voices was the only warning before a handful of young girls
stampeded toward us.
"Ohmigod, it is him!!"
"You're the drummer from Feral Silence right!?"
"His name is Morris you dumbass!" one of them hissed to the other.
"Will you take a picture with us?!" Another pleaded with her phone held in
her outstretched hand. Every other sentence they spoke seemed to include
exclamation marks.
I'd thought this diner was out of the way, but somehow a group of fans had
discovered us. Morris flicked me a quick, apologetic glance, before greeting
them.
The open, easygoing face I'd come to be familiar with disappeared and his
usual steady expression took its place. He took their outstretched hands and
murmured words of thanks, but declined when they held out their phones for a
picture, nodding his head in my direction.
One of the girls turned her attention away from Morris and sized me up,
recognition lighting up her face. "You're Natalie!"
I flinched, unsure what their reaction to me would be. "Um."
"You're his girlfriend!"
"I am." Of a sort.
"You're so much prettier in person!"
My eyebrows drew down, not sure whether to be insulted or not. "Thanks…?"
After a few more words with the group of girls, Morris sent them on their way
in a flurry of giggles and squeals, then returned to me.
"I'm sorry about that. I didn't think anyone would recognize me in a place like
this."
"It's okay. I knew what I was getting into when I started fake-dating a rock
star."
We ordered our food, but to my surprise Morris skipped sitting at a booth.
"Don't want to risk getting interrupted again. Let's walk and eat. It's a nice day
outside."
We walked side by side as we chowed down, not stopping to talk for a good
ten minutes. Morris must have been starving like me. For a brief moment I
worried how I'd look scarfing down a burger like a wild animal, then shrugged
internally. I was too hungry to be dainty, and besides, Morris was attacking his
food with just as much gusto as I was.
When our stomachs were no longer growling, we sipped on our shakes and
chatted as we walked.
"You said you liked babysitting your cousins," Morris stated. I was almost
surprised he remembered a detail that small. "Do you prefer teaching little kids
or older kids?"
"Tweens are more fun. They're finally learning how to be a real human adult.
Their world is starting to expand beyond just themselves."
"So you want to mold young minds?"
"I know what you're going to say. I go to one of the most prestigious music
schools in the country. Why would I want to throw that away to teach a bunch of
kids how to play hot cross buns on the recorder. Right?"
"I wasn't going to say that."
"Everyone else does. They think I'm wasting my education."
"Being a role model for young kids is never a waste."
"You'd be the first to think so." I stared into Morris's eyes, gauging his
sincerity. "Music just has this ability to make you feel, you know? It's like
everything else falls away and the music is the only thing left. No worries, no
fears."
Realizing I'd raised my voice and was gesturing wildly with my hands, I
calmed myself, not wanting to get too excitable in front of Morris and risk
annoying him.
"Everyone should get to experience that. The world we live in kind of sucks
sometimes. Giving kids some sort of reprieve, some sort of outlet… I think it's
just as important as learning Math or English."
"That's very noble of you."
"I think the words you're looking for are naive and idealistic."
"That's not always a bad thing."
"But you get it, right? You make music for your fans, for the world. You get
where I'm coming from."
"You don't think I'm in it for the fame and fortune?" he drawled.
"I'm sure it doesn't hurt," I acknowledged. "But your music, the way you play,
you're too passionate, too fierce, for it to be something that shallow."
Morris lifted an eyebrow in amusement. "I've never been called passionate
before."
"You do tend to play it cool. But on stage it's like you come alive. That's what
I lov—" I bit my tongue before I could finish that thought. "—like about you."
"That's what I like about you, too." He said the words so easily, so casually, I
almost thought I'd misheard him. I was still trying to process what he'd said
when he moved on. "I think you'd be a great teacher. You're good with the kids."
"Thanks," I replied automatically, my brain back on autopilot as I tried to
think through his words. Morris said he liked me. Liked me liked me, or just
'liked' me? I gave myself a mental shake. I could obsess over what he meant
later, when he wasn't standing shoulder to shoulder with me.
"You're good with them, too. Do you have younger siblings or cousins?" I was
pleased to hear I sounded just as casual and not as if my world had been shaken
to its core.
"Not officially."
My brows drew together, confused. "Is there such a thing as an unofficial
sibling?"
"When you grew up the way I did—" he cut himself off, looking away.
"How did you grow up?" I asked, hesitant.
Morris went silent. I chastised myself for asking. I'd told him about myself,
but so far Morris hadn't told me very much about himself. The stuff I'd read on
the internet was spotty at best.
"My friends and I… none of us had very good home lives," he said eventually.
"Absentee fathers. Alcoholic mothers. Not the best situation to grow up in. In
that kind of environment, your friends became your family."
"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I had no idea."
He shrugged. "It's the past. But I was the one to take care of the younger kids.
I was always big for my age."
"You scared off all the bullies?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood.
"Something like that," he agreed with a small smile. "My best friend Harper
and I, we were like the neighborhood parents." He flicked his eyes over to mine.
"Sometimes, you remind me of…" The smile disappeared, his eyes going
distant, as if lost in a memory.
His best friend. Harper. The mom of the group? She must have been the one
he kept referring to, when he said I reminded him of someone. His expression
was almost pained. I hurried to change the subject.
"So you're the protective big brother type? I guess that's why you volunteer at
The Impact Center."
His eyes cleared, focusing back on me. "You're not the only one who wants to
be a role model. Look at where I came from, and where I am now. It's important
for the kids to see what can happen if you dream big."
"Maybe one of our kids will form the next big rock group," I teased. "They'll
talk about how Morris Edwards of Feral Silence was their inspiration."
Morris laughed. "Not if they keep holding their drumsticks like a knife and
fork, they won't."
The sun was beginning to set, so Morris suggested we both head back home.
My insides fluttered, not knowing whether he meant his home or not.
"I'll give you a ride back to your place," he said, answering my unasked
question.
"Sure. Thanks." I tried to keep the disappointment from my voice.
I shouldn't have been disappointed. I should have been relieved. The more
time I spent with Morris, the more I liked him, and I was beginning to think he
liked me. I knew from experience he desired me, but this felt like something
more. This fake relationship was starting to feel like something real.
That thought should have made me nervous. Instead, a sort of anticipation, or
maybe elation, threatened to cloud my better judgment.
Kevin hadn't shown himself. I hadn't seen any sketchy shadows following me.
Either I'd made the whole thing up in my head, or Morris was right. He'd scared
Kevin off.
As Morris and I walked back to his car, I had to fight back the urge to skip
like a little kid with an abundance of energy, too restless to walk at Morris's
sedate pace. With my arm in his, I could almost pretend we were on a real date.
Thoughts of stalker exes began to fade away.
Until we reached his car.
"What the fuck—!" Morris rushed to his luxury vehicle, running his hands
over the once-smooth paint job now rife with deep scratches. Every window had
been smashed, bits of glass spread out along the parking lot pavement, crunching
underfoot. The interior leather seats were slashed with long gouges. Morris was
speechless as his confusion turned to rage.
Panic spiked in my chest, adrenaline kicking into my nervous system.
Squeezing my bag with both hands, I darted my eyes around warily. Was he
watching us? He must have been. He would want to see the results of his handy
work.
Fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, Morris took a deep breath in and
out. "Fucking juvenile delinquents." He ran one hand over his face, then sighed.
"Guess I better call you a cab."
Unable to answer, I simply nodded. My whole body trembled as I clutched my
purse tight to my chest, as if it afforded any protection.
"Hey." Morris pressed both palms against my cheeks, the tips of his fingers
sifting through my hair. I lifted my eyes to meet his, bright green and concerned.
"It was just some stupid kids acting out. There's no reason to be afraid. Okay?"
Squeezing my eyes shut, I shook my head back and forth, a vigorous motion.
Morris wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tight to his chest. His hands ran
a soothing path up and down my back. Strands of my hair ruffled as Morris
placed his lips on the top of my head.
"Let's get you home."
 Chapter 15


Huddled under a pile of blankets in bed, I stared at my phone as it buzzed for the
twelfth time that day. The twelfth message I hadn't responded to.
I knew it was Morris texting and calling me, leaving voicemails. I didn't know
how he'd gotten my number. I hadn't given it to him yet. He'd probably asked
Ren to ask Ivy to give it to him. I supposed that was her way of getting me back
for giving Ren our address so he could show up in person and apologize to her
after they'd had a fight.
I knew she was worried, both her and Jen. After Morris sent me home in a cab
last week, I'd been too shaken to do anything except sit at home in my
sweatpants. I hadn't gone out to the youth center to volunteer. I hadn't left the
apartment for more than a few minutes to go downstairs and check the mail.
Ivy and Jen assumed I'd had a fight with him. That I was upset and moping.
They were right about the upset part, but with anxiety and fear as a constant
presence nestled heavily in my chest, moping was too mild a word.
I'd talked to the police officer who'd handled my case the first time. She'd
been concerned and sympathetic, but she said her hands were tied. I already had
a restraining order in place, but without any hard evidence Kevin had broken it,
they couldn't do anything. I'd hung up the phone feeling defeated.
I was on my own. The same as always.
Another buzz. Another message. I debated for long moments, trying to decide
for the dozenth time whether I should read it or not. Finally, I picked it up and
skimmed the last few messages.

I know you're scared.
You worried your ex messed with my car?
Let's talk. Please.
I want you to believe me when I tell you everything's going to be okay.

I swallowed hard, blinking back tears. I swiped to open the selfie of me and
Morris again, staring at it through watery eyes. I didn't know why I tortured
myself like that. It wasn't like I was going to answer back.
Whatever Morris and I had, whatever attraction or flirtation that had sprung
up between us, was over now.
Kevin was back. Morris was a target. I had to stay away to keep him safe.
I should have known better. There was a reason I crushed on unattainable
men. I'd just had it proven, vividly, exactly why that was the most I could hope
for when it came to relationships.
Maybe, if Kevin hadn't found me again, things could have been different.
Perhaps Morris and I…
Sinking down further into my mattress, I pulled the blankets over my face,
ignoring the blinking notifications on my phone.
I shot up with a start as my blankets were unceremoniously yanked off the
bed, leaving me uncovered. I scowled at Jen as she loomed over me.
"Enough moping." Arms crossed over her chest and toes tapping, she looked
every bit the impatient mother waiting for her child to get out of bed in the
morning. "I've let you wallow for a week but this is getting ridiculous."
"I'm not wallowing."
She raised an eyebrow and nodded her chin to the pile of clothes on my floor
and empty soda cans on my night stand. "I know we call you the messy one, but
this is getting out of hand."
"I've had a lot on my mind."
"Morris?"
I avoided her eyes. I still hadn't told the girls about my stalker problem. I
should have warned them before I moved in with them, but Kevin had been
locked up. I'd just wanted to pretend everything was fine, that my troubled past
was behind me. I'd put my friends in danger, too. The thought sent another wave
of anxiety shooting through me. Tears sprung to my eyes. I planted my face in
my hands so Jen wouldn't see.
I just wanted to have a normal life.
The mattress dipped as Jen sat beside me, putting her arm over my shoulder.
"It's okay to be sad."
"I'm not sad," I answered, words muffled into my palm. Terrified was more
accurate.
"Upset, then. I know you've always had a thing for Morris."
"It was never going to work out between us anyway." I'd been telling myself
that for days, trying to console myself. "The whole thing was just pretend.
Things are better this way."
"You haven't put on real clothes in a week. Things aren't better."
Before I could answer, my phone buzzed again. I ignored it.
"That him?" Jen guessed. I nodded. "Are you going to answer?"
"There's nothing to say."
"He thinks there is."
"How do you know?"
"Morris told Ivy he wanted to talk to you. That it was important. That he had
something you needed to hear."
I'd guessed right. My friends had schemed behind my back. I couldn't be too
upset with them. I'd done the same thing.
"I don't know what went down between you two, but I think you should hear
him out."
"It has nothing to do with Morris. It's all me."
"Then tell him that. If you really don't want to hear from him, then pick up the
phone and tell him. It's not fair to just ignore him. Not when he's so frantic to
reach you."
"Frantic?"
"He sounded pretty upset. He said it was urgent that he talked to you."
Morris was never frantic. He was always so stoic, so calm.
"I thought if I just ignored him he'd lose interest."
Standing from the bed, Jen handed me my phone. "Call him. Hear him out. If
you don't want to see him again, just say so." Jen gave me a considering look.
"But I don't think that's the case, is it?" With an encouraging smile, she left,
shutting my bedroom door behind her.
Gathering up all my resolve, I tapped to dial and held the phone to my ear. I
would listen to what Morris had to say. Jen was right. It was only fair. But then I
would tell him we had to call it quits.
He picked up after one ring.
"Natalie?"
Taken off guard, I almost hung up on the spot. Instead, I answered reluctantly.
"It's me."
A puff of air into the receiver told me he'd let out a relieved breath. "Thank
god you're okay."
I blinked. "Of course I'm okay."
"I was worried…" He trailed off. I knew what he avoided saying. He was
worried Kevin had somehow gotten to me. The lump of fear in my gut turned to
guilt.
"I didn't mean to make you worry."
"Ren told me your friends said you were okay. I wanted to hear your voice
myself to be sure."
"I'm fine."
"If you're fine, why haven't you responded to my messages?"
The guilt intensified. "I'm sorry."
"I know you're afraid. What happened to my car was sick. It takes a pretty
messed up person to do that."
I gripped my phone tight in my hand, not answering.
 "I know you think it's your ex."
"He's not really my ex," I whispered.
"No?" Morris sounded confused.
"We only went out a couple times." I didn't know why I felt the need to
explain all of a sudden. Maybe I just wanted Morris to know Kevin never really
meant anything to me. "Kevin was never my boyfriend. I got weird vibes from
him early on. I broke it off. And he went crazy."
"Then why do you call him your ex?"
"What kind of drama queen confesses to having a stalker on a first date?"
"The kind who asks for help."
I let out a pained noise. "I know you want to help, but you can't."
"The hell I can't." He sounded fierce, resolute. "Come out with me again."
"No."
"Natalie."
"I don't want you to get hurt."
"I've dealt with a lot worse than some punk who can't even show himself so he
resorts to smashing up car windows."
"It can get worse than smashed windows."
Morris went quiet for a moment. "Did he do worse to you?"
"Not to me. To other people. Anyone I showed interest in. He's crazy, Morris.
Even when I got him sent to jail for breaking the restraining order it didn't stop.
He has friends on the outside. Anytime I started dating someone, bad things
happened. And he's out now. Apparently he exhibited good behavior," I scoffed.
"If he tries anything with you, there won't be enough left to put away," Morris
growled.
I was torn between melting from the protective tone of his voice, and running
scared from the possibility of him getting hurt. "I don't want you to get involved
in my mess."
"I'm already involved. You think I'm going to stand by and watch him hurt
you? Fuck that."
"Morris…"
"Come out with me again. Not in public. We won't risk pissing him off. I just
want to see you."
I wanted to see Morris, too. Just looking at his photo was enough to ease my
fears. I wanted to feel his arms around him, to feel safe and protected. "I don't
know."
"I'll send a car for you. We can go out for a drink. Have some fun and forget
about everything for a while."
Forgetting about everything sounded wonderful. "You're not going to give up,
are you?"
"No."
So stubborn. I couldn't suppress the small smile that lifted my lips. I hadn't
had a reason to smile in over a week. "Okay. Let's have a drink."
 Chapter 16


When the car Morris sent for me — a limo driven by an honest to goodness
chauffeur complete with stereotypical hat and gloves -- dropped me off, I knew I
had to be in the wrong place.
The alleyway I stepped into was filled with graffiti, broken beer bottles, and
bins overflowing with trash. I took one look and spun around, using a brisk pace
until I hit the sidewalk. The scene outside the alley wasn't any better. Homes
with boarded up windows and soviet-era style concrete apartment buildings
made me wonder if I wasn't safer in the alleyway.
I immediately pulled out my phone and called Morris. When he answered I
blurted out in one breath, "I think the limo driver dropped me off in the wrong
spot because I'm in a sketchy alley in the middle of the bad part of town and I
think I see used syringes on the sidewalk."
Morris laughed. "Give me a second."
I stared at the phone's display as he hung up without another word. I was
about to call back when a thick metal door to the left of me swung open. Morris
was in the doorframe, wearing faded jeans and a t-shirt molded so tight to his
chest I could make out every muscle.
"What the ever loving—"
"Don't worry, it's fine," Morris reassured me, wrapping an arm around my
waist and pulling me through the entrance.
"I know rock stars are known for their drug problems but if you're taking me
to some sort of opium den I'm out of here."
"Opium den?" His lips twitched. I flushed.
"Crack house, junkie hide out, whatever. I'm not into that."
"This place is only in the bad part of town to keep it a secret."
My ears perked up. "Secret?"
"It's hard for celebrities to get a quiet drink in this town," he explained.
Morris led me through a series of dark, dank hallways. I caught a glimpse of a
bar through one of the open doors. "Is that where we're going?"
"No, the real place is through here."
We reached the dead end of the last hallway with three doors. I blinked at the
signs hanging on the cracked wood, the universal shapes for man and woman.
"Wait, is this a restroom?" Was Morris taking me to go make out in a
bathroom? That was pretty trashy, but also pretty damn rock star, too. There
were lots of other rock stars who got caught having sex in public toilets with
their latest conquests, but that wasn't my thing. "I'm so not going to—"
Ignoring my protests, Morris pushed open the door and pulled me through.
I paused in mid-step. Whatever I'd thought a secret rock star hide out might
look like, this was most definitely not it.
"Are we in the right place?" I whispered.
"You sound so hesitant."
"With good reason!" I hissed.
We were in a bar, although you could probably also call it a club. It wasn't like
any of the fancy nightclubs I'd ever been to.
The floor was gross, all sticky and stained. The room was dim with sickly
yellow lighting. Broken beer bottles were strewn over every surface. A group of
tough, mean-looking men with what looked like gang-related facial tattoos were
playing pool, half the guys swearing profusely and looking like they were ready
to start throwing punches.
I turned on my heel. "I'm leaving."
Morris patted my shoulder and leaned down to murmur in my ear. "It may
look scary but this place is cool. The guys are all friendly, the drinks are cheap,
and we never have to worry about the media or fans." He gave me an
encouraging smile. "At least try it out?"
I let out a reluctant groan, but gave up, shoulders slumping. "I'm trusting you
to keep me safe from motorcycle gangs and thugs."
"I thought all the girls were hot for bikers."
"You know I'm more the rock star type."
He sat me at a table, one of the few without beer bottles, broken glass, and
messy spills on the surface.
"I'll go get us drinks."
Wide-eyed, I clutched at his sleeve. "You're not leaving me alone in here."
With an indulgent look, he took a seat next to me. "Alright. You like beer?"
"It's okay," I shrugged.
"What do you drink?"
"Sugary-sweet slushy cocktails, usually."
Morris craned his head around and seemed to nod at someone.
To my surprise, Jessie, the volunteer coordinator from Impact, appeared at our
side with a tray full of drinks in her hand.
"Hey Morris, what can I get you?" She noticed me and did a double take,
giving Morris a speculative look. "Hey Natalie. First time here?"
"How'd you guess?"
"The deer in headlights look."
I laughed nervously. "Yeah, first time. You work here?"
 "I work nights and weekends. Leaves me free to work at the center during the
day."
I never would have expected someone as perky and down to earth as Jessie to
work at a dive bar like this one. "Is that how you met Morris?"
"Morris is the one who got me the job. Walt, the owner of the bar, was looking
for a waitress. I was looking for something with a flexible schedule. It all
worked out."
"And you… like it here?"
Her eyes lit up. "Love it. Walt keeps them in line, but most of the guys here
are great big teddy bears. Wouldn't harm a fly. Besides," she nodded to the front
of the bar with a stage I hadn't seen when I came in, "the impromptu
performances are a great perk."
"Even open mic night?" Morris drawled.
She faked a shudder. "Aside from that. If I never hear another terrible
rendition of Bohemian Rhapsody again in my life…" She shook her head with a
laugh. "Anyway. What can I get you?"
"The usual for me." Morris turned to me. "Something sugary sweet, you
said?"
"I've got just the thing," Jessie reassured me.
When she left, leaving just me and Morris, an awkward silence fell over the
two of us. I knew he wanted to bring up Kevin. I was dying to know about
Harper, the girl I reminded him of, the girl I was potentially in competition with.
Did I look like her? Act like her? What was it about me that drew him in so
quickly?
"So, what have you been doing this week, aside from avoiding my calls?"
I flushed, guilt ready to rise up again, but the small smile playing on Morris's
lips told me he was just teasing. I didn't want to tell him I'd been wallowing, like
Jen had said. "Oh, you know. The usual. Marathoning Netflix. Catching up on
my reading."
"You sure you weren't holed up in your room hiding from the world?"
My mouth popped open in protest. Morris cut me off with a soft chuckle
before I could speak a word.
"Ivy told Ren, who told me." He reached across the table and took one of my
hands, my own small and frail looking in comparison to his big paw of a hand.
His fingers squeezed mine. "I know you're scared. You think your ex—" he cut
himself off, then continued, "—that Kevin guy is the one who trashed my car."
"Who else could it be?" I insisted.
"Could have just been some street punks."
"No. I know how he works. It was Kevin. He did it as a warning." I pulled my
hands away and put them in my lap. "I shouldn't even be here with you. I'm just
putting you in danger."
"And what about you?" Morris growled low in his chest. "You're the one he's
really targeting. Aren't you afraid he'll come after you next?"
"I have a restraining order against him. If he comes near me I can get him sent
away again." I met Morris's eyes, only to find his brow narrowed in frustration.
"But there's nothing to stop him from messing around with you. Trashing your
car is just the start."
"Why? What else could he do?"
I knew what Morris was really asking. He wanted to know what Kevin done
before. I looked down at my hands. "He could cut the brake lines of your car. Or
break into your home and trash everything in there. You don't have a real job so I
guess he can't frame you for stealing from your employer, but he could do other
things."
"Shit, Natalie." Morris dragged his chair over to my side of the table and
pulled me so close I was nearly in his lap. "Is that what you've had to deal with?"
"Not me. The guys I was seeing. With the first one, I thought it was just a
coincidence. Brakes fail sometimes, right? Then his home got broken into.
Everything was smashed. I freaked out and dumped him, for his own safety.
Kevin had warned me when I ended things."
"Did he ever…?" Morris tightened his grip on me.
"No, he never hurt me. He sent me threatening voicemails and messages,
though. So I got a restraining order."
"It obviously didn't work."
"He showed up at my part-time job. He thought I was alone in the shop, but
there was a coworker in the back who heard him threatening me and called the
police. I got him put away for violating the restraining order. I thought
everything was over and done with."
Slumping back in the chair, I ran my hands over my face. Talking about all
this was dredging up a bunch of memories I'd been trying to put behind me.
"I started seeing this other guy, a friend of a friend. It only took a week before
the same thing happened to him." I lifted my eyes to meet Morris's. "His car got
trashed. Slashed seats, punctured tires, the whole thing. I tried to break it off
then, but he said I was just being paranoid. Said it was probably just some
teenagers." I gave Morris a pointed stare, reminding him he'd said the same
thing.
"Then someone sent his employer photos of him stealing from the cash
register. He insisted it wasn't him, that it was photoshopped. I knew it was
Kevin. He must have had friends on the outside doing his dirty work for him. I
decided then that I wouldn't put anyone else in danger. I didn't date anyone for a
long time. Then, I met you…" I trailed off.
Morris took a minute to process everything I'd said. When he spoke, I was
surprised he'd focused on the one point I'd thought unimportant. "So you've
never had a serious boyfriend?"
"No." This was my chance to ask. "Have you ever had a serious girlfriend?"
"Yes."
Was it that girl, Harper? They grew up together. Were they childhood
sweethearts like Ren and Ivy? Why weren't they together any more?
Before I could ask, Morris brought the subject back around. "You don't have
to worry about me. I can take care of myself."
I frowned, twisting my hands nervously. "What happens if it's your brake line
he cuts next? Now that he's out, who knows what he might pull." I shrugged out
from under his arms, shifting my chair to the other side of the table. "I should
have just stayed away from you."
"I promised I would protect you."
"It's not me who needs protecting."
"The hell it isn't."
"I have a restraining order."
"What happens if he gets you alone next time?"
I couldn't help but shiver. I didn't want to think about it. I just wanted to
pretend everything was fine. But with what had happened to Morris's car, I
couldn't pretend any longer.
"I'm not going to let you deal with this by yourself." His tone was firm,
adamant. "You can't get rid of me so easily." He really meant it. He wanted to
help me. He wanted to protect me.
Why? I wanted to cry out. Why was Morris putting himself in danger for me,
why was he helping me? I reminded him of his old girlfriend, but that couldn't be
the whole reason.
I looked up and locked eyes with him, trying to decipher the expression on his
face, the look in his eyes.
They were resolute, completely unwavering.
"Natalie. Believe me. I'll keep you safe."
"Promise?"
"I promise."
 Chapter 17


I was saved from having to reply when Jessie came back with our drinks.
I didn't want to fight with Morris. I was torn between wanting to keep as far
away from him as possible, and throwing myself into his arms. I'd never wanted
to be the damsel in distress, but Morris's offer was so tempting. I'd been dealing
with this on my own for so long.
Could I really rely on him to keep Kevin away? To keep me safe? To keep
himself safe?
Jessie placed our drinks on the table. "Here you go Morris, your usual. And
Natalie, I put together something I think you'll like. My own concoction."
The cocktail glass she handed me was full of a pale pink liquid with what
looked like small flecks of flower petals floating on the surface. Bright pink
crystals rimmed the edge, which I assumed was sugar. I took an experimental
sip. Sweet, but not cloying, with a hint of something fruity, and not too strong
either.
"This is great. What's in it?"
She winked. "My special secret. I call it The Princess Peach."
"I wouldn't have pegged you for a video game fan."
"Who isn't a fan of Mario?" She nodded to Morris's drink. "You good with
yours?"
The second drink Jessie brought over contained a few fingers of a pale amber
liquid in a short glass. "It's perfect, thanks Jess."
"What is it?" I asked.
"His usual," Jessie said as the same time as Morris said "My usual."
I blinked. "Okay." Maybe it was another of Jessie's secret drinks. I didn't know
much about alcohol, so the answer wasn't important either way.
A commotion at the entrance of the bar grabbed my attention. Swinging my
head around, expecting to see another group of sketchy-scary men, I was startled
as Kell Pierce, lead singer of Feral Silence, bounced into the room with a mad
grin. Jayce Evans, the brilliant sex god of a guitarist, sauntered in behind him.
My heart went into overdrive. For as much time as I'd spent with Morris, it
hadn't cured me of my fangirl obsession with his band. Kell and Jayce were
amazing performers. I had swooned at them in concert more than once.
I clamped my mouth shut with a snap and forced back a flush, not wanting to
have a fangirl freak out in the middle of the bar. When I'd met Kell before he'd
been effusively friendly, if not slightly arrogant. Jayce had been just as friendly,
aside from the raw sensuality oozing from every pore.
I'd figured out how to calm my fangirl flailing around Morris. There was no
reason why I shouldn't be able to do the same around his band mates. I took deep
breaths, reminding myself they were just normal people like me. My heartbeat
had begun to slow when two other men followed behind them, completely
throwing off my moment of zen.
I always said Feral Silence was my favorite band, but that wasn't strictly true.
Darkest Days, with their heavy, aggressive yet melodic sound and emotionally
devastating lyrics, vied for the number one spot in my heart — a heart that was
nearly exploding out of my chest.
I let out a squeak as the bassist and drummer of Darkest Days walked in
behind Kell and Jayce.
I'd met the lead singer and twin guitarist of Darkest Days for a few minutes
before, but the bassist Cameron Thorne and drummer August Summers hadn't
been there at the time. Aside from being front row at concerts, I'd never been this
close to those two.
Morris had said this place was a hide out for celebrities. Fake-dating a rock
star certainly had its perks. My fingers and toes wriggled with uncontrollable
excitement, but I had no time to process it. Kell saw us and bounded over.
"Hey man, I had no idea you were going to be here!" He stopped when he was
within arm's reach, cocking his head and staring at me, an odd expression on his
face. I froze under that considering look. He broke out into a million-watt smile.
"Natalie Lambert," he purred. I tried not to die on the spot as he draped
himself over my shoulder. Why did the lead singer of Feral Silence know my
name? There's no way he would have remembered based on one introduction
months ago. "What a pleasant surprise to see you here. And with my drummer,
no less. Isn't that interesting?" He wriggled his eyebrows at Morris in a
comically teasing way. "I don't suppose you've shared with her your—"
Morris planted one large hand over Kell's face, fingers nearly spanning his
entire skull. Kell just laughed as he was forcibly shoved away.
"That's a no?" Kell asked, deep blue eyes sparkling.
My interest was piqued. What else hadn't Morris shared with me?
I was distracted from asking when Darkest Days' bassist walked by, his dyed,
fire-engine red hair a wild mess, and headed straight to the pool table. His arm
was hooked around the drummer's neck, hauling him through the bar.
The drummer stumbled slightly in a drunken stagger, his features obscured by
long platinum blond strands. I wondered if this was the first bar they'd been to.
When they simply nodded at Morris in greeting and continued on their way, I
breathed a sigh of relief. If they'd come over and I'd been surrounded by all of
them at once my heart might have given out.
"What are you doing here?" Morris asked with a barely suppressed groan.
"Cam was boasting he's better than me at pool," Kell huffed. "Threatened to
wipe the floor with me. Clearly I need to rid him of the notion." Kell ruffled my
hair and I squawked in surprised, unable to stop myself throwing a disgruntled
look his way. He gave me a parting grin and went to join the others at the pool
table.
"And you?" Morris asked Jayce as he approached us.
The guitarist wore his customary black leather jacket with a slight smirk on
his face. "Supervision. You know how competitive those two losers get when
they drink."
"A little friendly competition never hurt anyone!" Cameron Thorne called out
in protest as he lined up the pool balls in a triangle.
I sat in complete silence, spine straight and hands clasped in my lap. I didn't
want to open my mouth and risk my rambling kicking in.
"Natalie, isn't it?" Jayce looked me up and down. I nodded dumbly. "Nice to
see you again." He gave Morris the side-eye for several long moments, but didn't
say anything else as he headed over to the others.
"Sorry," Morris muttered. "I didn't think they'd be here tonight."
"It's fine," I managed to force out.
His lips twitched upward. "You doing okay? Breathing all right?"
"I'm good," I croaked. I cleared my throat and took another sip of my drink to
wet my dry mouth. The sip turned into a series of long gulps. Maybe the alcohol
would calm my nerves.
Morris gave me an indulgent smile. "We can leave if you want."
"No. It's okay. I know you like this place. You'd just think I'd be used to this
by now." I muttered into my glass.
"The guys can be kind of overwhelming," Morris acknowledged with a tilt of
his head toward the pool table. The four rock stars were laughing uproariously,
sharing insults, and in Kell's case, poking the others with pool sticks. "For all
that they're famous, they're just a bunch of rowdy boys underneath."
"How do you manage it? Doesn't it get exhausting dealing with people like
that? Especially Kell." Especially me, I thought.
Morris's face lit up, his eyes going soft yet bright at the same time. "No. It's
great. Kell exudes this kind of manic energy all the time, you know? It's
invigorating." He threw an affectionate look at his lead singer, a smile playing on
his lips. It was the closest to a grin I'd seen on his face. The usually placid
Morris looked animated in a way I'd only ever seen on stage. "Don't tell him I
said that, though. If he knew how much I liked his antics he'd act out a million
times worse."
"I'll never say a word."
Morris gave me a thoughtful look. "I've only met a few people in my life with
that kind of energy. You and Kell are similar. You're both so much like…" he
trailed off, expression turning pained.
I knew he was thinking about that girl, Harper. His old best friend. His
childhood sweetheart? Was that it? Had she been bright and bubbly, cheerful and
friendly? Is that why I reminded him of her?
The thought threatened to dampen my good mood. Would Morris ever look at
me and see me? Or would I always be in competition with some past love?
I wanted to know more about her, but I couldn't pry. Morris had a hard time
growing up. I didn't want to bring up bad memories. I was dying to know more
about him, though. He knew all about my problems. Wouldn't it only be fair for
him to share something with me?
"Your best friend when you were a kid was like me and Kell?" I asked
hesitantly.
Morris took a mouthful of his drink, looking at me over the rim of his glass as
if wondering whether he should answer the question or not. The pained look in
his eyes eased some as he nodded.
"Yeah. Harper was always smiling, always laughing. Really high energy.
That's why we started hanging out at Impact. So we could do something
productive with that energy."
I leaned forward, paying rapt attention, showing Morris that I was listening
and wanted to know more. "The same youth center we volunteer at?"
"Same one. It's been around for a while now, but it was newly built when my
friends and I first started going there."
"And I suppose you were all out of control hellions just like the kids today?"
"Even worse. That's actually how I first got into the drums."
That was something new I'd never heard before. "How?"
"We were poking our heads in where they didn't belong. We stumbled upon all
these instruments that weren't being used. We hauled them out of storage and
began wailing on them. We had no idea what we were doing, but it was fun. So
we decided to start a band. I didn't have the dexterity for strings, but man, could
I pound away on those drums." He chuckled, eyes soft and far away, like he was
reliving a fond memory. "We were so shitty. I'm surprised the adults even let us
practice at first. But we got better as we got older and took it more seriously. We
started playing shows, just gigs at parties, stuff like that. We started dreaming
about record contracts and world tours. I began to think it could be my ticket out.
But then—" he stopped talking abruptly.
 "But then what?" I asked softly. "What happened?"
Morris met my gaze head on, then flicked his eyes away. "You want another
drink? You finished yours pretty fast."
I practically got whiplash from the sharp turn in conversation. I took it for
what it was. However much Morris had shared with me, that was all I was going
to get. At least for now. I had no intention of letting this drop. I wanted to know
more about Morris. I needed to know.
What kind of ghost from his past was he seeing when he looked at me?
"Sure," I said easily, signaling that I was content to let him change the subject.
For now. "I'd love another Princess Peach."
As Morris stood from his seat, Kell called out from across the room.
"Yo, Morris! Quit your flirting and help win me a bet."
"Leave the lovebirds alone." Jayce poked Kell with a pool stick, giving him a
taste of his own medicine.
Kell firmly ignored him. "I made a bet with this asshole." He stuck out his
thumb over his shoulder, pointing to Darkest Days' bassist, who had a wicked
grin on his face. Their drummer was beside him, both hands planted firmly on
the pool table, looking vaguely green.
"Forget it, Kell," Morris said. "I'm busy."
"What kind of bet?" I asked, just to satisfy my curiosity.
"Whether a drunk August can out-drum a sober Morris."
"That's not a fair wager, betting against a drunk person," I objected.
"You'd think so, wouldn't you?"
My throat closed up. Cameron Thorne was speaking directly to me. Here was
my chance to have a normal conversation with the bassist of Darkest Days. Had
my time around Morris tempered my habit of babbling?
"Um. What do you mean?"
Success. I got the words out in a coherent manner. I was so proud of myself I
almost missed his reply.
"There's something wrong with August's brain." Cameron flicked his drummer
in the forehead with his thumb and index finger. The platinum blond man
lurched sideways with a groan. "For some reason getting wasted increases his
godlike musical abilities."
Kell snorted. "He can barely stand up."
"No, 'm fine," August mumbled, listing slightly to the left. Cameron tugged
him upright. I could see his light blue eyes were glassy and unfocused even from
where I was sitting. The poor guy. The others were certainly tipsy, but the genius
drummer August Summers was almost completely gone. Either he'd pounded
back more than all of them combined or he was a cheap drunk.
 "He's going to end up puking on the kick drum," Kell declared with surety.
"He'll probably pass out halfway through. You're bluffing."
Cameron narrowed his eyes. They had a devilish glint in them. "Take my bet
and you'll find out."
"You're on. Morris?"
"Said I'm busy," he grunted.
"Natalie doesn't mind lending you out for a few minutes." Kell turned to me
and flashed a charming grin. "Right Nat? You'd like to see Morris play the
drums, wouldn't you?"
"I—"
Kell interrupted after one syllable. "See, she's fine with it. C'mon, help me
out," he wheedled. "I'll split it with you, twenty/eighty."
"What's the take?"
"Just a thousand, nothing too outrageous," Kell said with a breezy tone.
I nearly choked. "A thousand—!" What the hell kind of people bet a thousand
dollars on something stupid like that?
Drunk rock stars, apparently.
"Good thing Noah isn't here," Cameron said with a grin, referring to their lead
singer. "He likes to play for keeps when he gets drunk. A thousand is nothing to
him."
"Might as well do it, man," Jayce chimed in. He looked amused. "You know
this jackass won't let up until you give in. He'll pester you all night."
Morris looked torn.
"I wouldn't mind seeing you play," I offered.
"You sure?"
"Go ahead. If you win, use the money to take me out for another drink to
make it up to me."
Morris stared me down. "If I win?"
I flushed. "You know you're an amazing drummer, one of the best. But August
Summers is—" I paused, searching for the right words.
"A prodigy?" he supplied wryly.
"It's not that he's better than you. He's better than everyone."
"Now them's fightin' words," Morris drawled, a half smile on his face.
Kell let out a whoop. "And we're on! The gauntlet has been thrown. The
knight must prove his worth to his lady. Will he prevail and come out the victor?
Or will he taste the shame of defeat?"
"Kell, if you don't shut the hell up I'm going to throw the competition and take
great pleasure in watching you hand over a thousand bucks."
Despite the exasperated tone, I could tell Morris was enjoying this. Maybe he
was looking forward to a chance to show off. Wanting to impress me? He didn't
need to try. He was already impressive enough.
"You won't have to throw it." The shit-eating grin on Cameron's face told me
he was more than confident in his bet. "August's going to win."
After much jeering and many insults thrown back and forth, the guys managed
to set up a drum set on the stage at the front of the bar, with Jessie's help. As an
impartial party, it was decided she would choose the winner.
"You play for five minutes each," Kell explained to both Morris and August.
"Whoever has the best drum solo wins. Jess makes the final call. Easy as that.
Got it?"
Morris nodded silently. August's blond head bobbed in what might have been
a nod, but might also have been him getting ready to lean over and hurl. I fought
back a giggle. The poor thing. It was hard to be overwhelmed by his presence
when he was looking so pathetic.
"Morris goes first," August said with a groan. "I need a second to make the
world stop spinning."
"Easiest grand I'll ever make," Kell said with a devious grin.
"Always so sure of yourself, aren't you?" Cameron taunted.
"Why wouldn't I be? I'm always right."
I almost snorted. The more I saw of Kell Pierce and his uncontrollable
arrogance, the more my fangirl idolization began to fade.
Morris took a seat behind the drum seat, twirling the sticks between his
fingers in a complicated pattern. His eyes were already turning inwards, lighting
up with a familiar fire, getting in performance mode.
"No showing off!" Cameron hollered. "Just play the damn drums!"
With narrowed eyes, Morris thumped the kick drum, hit the cymbals, and
began one of the most amazing drum solos I'd ever heard in my life.
I sat, mesmerized not only by his technique, but by the passionate way he
played, muscled arms moving at a rapid pace. The performance was powerful
and fluid, both manic and carefully controlled at the same time. Green eyes
burned with an inner fire as the music took him over.
I must have blocked out everything else, staring at Morris in silent awe,
because I didn't notice someone sit next to me until a hand waved back and forth
frantically in front of me. I jerked back with a start to find Kell's grinning face.
"You look quite taken with my drummer." That devious smile was back.
"Enamored, one might even say."
I forced myself to relax into my chair and not vibrate with nervous
excitement. I could totally act cool. Definitely. I could absolutely do that.
"Morris is just… really really good. He's so passionate on stage, it's no
wonder everyone calls him one of the best, I've always loved watching him
perform, he's just amazing."
Shut uuuup, I groaned inwardly.
Kell nodded, turning his attention to the stage, giving me a bit of a reprieve
from his pointed stare. "He is. That's why I chose him."
"Chose him?"
"I saw him playing drums for the kids at that youth center Jess works at. Even
with a shitty, worn down, second hand drum set he was awesome. I knew I
needed to snag him." Kell's expression turned thoughtful. "I never really figured
out why he said yes. He wasn't looking to join a band. I sort of came out of
nowhere and ambushed him." He gave his patented smug grin. "Guess it's just
my considerable charm. No one can say no to me."
Kell might have been half right. If Morris was drawn to people with that kind
of energy, it made sense he would take a liking to someone like Kell.
It explained why he'd taken a liking to me. For once my excitable personality
and natural exuberance was a blessing, not an annoyance. I'd captured Morris's
attention, just like Kell.
Just like Harper.
I stared down into my empty glass. I needed something to drink. I eyed
Morris's glass, then mentally shrugged and pulled it over to my side of the table.
When I took a small sip I steeled myself for whatever paint-peeling jet-fuel
tasting alcohol might be in it.
I paused after one small mouthful, rolling the liquid over my tongue with
confusion.
Ginger ale?
I took another sip. No mistaking it. There was no alcohol in Morris's drink. It
was plain ginger ale.
Huh.
I turned that thought around in my head for a few moments. I'd thought his
usual was probably whiskey or some sort of other hard liquor. I'd never have
expected Morris to be drinking soda. I wondered why he bothered with the
pretense.
Kell eyed me curiously, but didn't say anything as I played with the glass in
my hand.
"Morris has started opening up to you, hasn't he?"
The contemplative look Kell gave me was unnerving, as if he were trying to
peel back my layers like an onion. The tilt of his head sent wavy blond strands
falling across his forehead, almost obscuring his eyes, but that didn't lessen the
weight in them.
 "What?" I asked nervously. "Why are you staring at me?"
The glint in his eyes shifted from intense to delighted. "I always wondered
why he didn't pick you."
I frowned, confused. "Pick… me?"
"Your fan video," Kell clarified.
I cringed. It had been months and months ago that Jen, Ivy and I entered that
contest to win tickets to a special meet and greet event with the band.
"You remember that?" I groaned. "There must have been thousands of
entries."
"Yours was definitely, ah… memorable."
I resisted the urge to bury my face in my hands. "I'd been my usual babbling,
overly-excitable self. I figured I had scared you guys off with my overzealous
pitch."
"Your video was one of the finalists."
I blinked. "Are you serious?"
"Each of us got to select a dozen or so entrants. You were on Morris's short
list. I thought for sure he was going to pick you. Now I think I get why he
didn't."
"Why not?" I asked, indignant. I'd come so close! Not that it mattered, in the
end. I'd gotten to meet Morris anyway.
"Do you remember submitting your contact details along with the video?
When Ren chose Ivy's video, Morris realized you both lived at the same address.
He knew you were roommates."
"Why does that matter?"
"I guess he figured he'd get a chance to meet you outside of a fan setting
anyway."
"Why would he have wanted to meet me at all?" I asked, baffled. "He didn't
even know me back then."
Kell poked me in the cheek. "Why would Morris have wanted to join a band
with me?" he countered.
I batted his finger away, giving him a sour look. "At the moment, I have no
idea."
"How many times did you have to film that video to get it just right, anyway?"
I flushed, not wanting to admit I'd filmed over a dozen takes. "More than a
few," I said grudgingly.
"Even if you didn't win the contest, you should know all that hard work didn't
go to waste."
The lead singer of Feral Silence stood from the table and ruffled my hair for
the second time that night. I ducked out from under his hand. "Stop it!"
 "Don't worry, you look even prettier with your hair all messy like that. Like
you just rolled out of bed." He gave me a smirk, teasing yet sensual at the same
time, as he sauntered off.
I scowled and patted my now messed-up strands, trying to return them to
some semblance of order. What little hero worship I had left for this man was
now long gone.
"But the real question is," he called out over his shoulder, eyes glimmering
with mirth, "how many times do you think Morris watched your video?"
I paused, fingers still combing through my long strands.
Had he watched it more than once?
Still fussing with my hair, I turned my attention back to the stage. The music
cut short as Morris finished his solo. He stood from the drum set, chest heaving
and brow glistening. He'd put everything he'd had into the performance, even
though it was for an audience of less than a dozen. I was annoyed at Kell for
making me miss half of it.
He and Jayce cheered and clapped. Cameron jeered and booed, giving Morris
two thumbs down, although he wore a grin. The other bar patrons had been
brought up short by the performance and joined in on the cheering, chanting
Morris's name as if they all knew him. I supposed they must, if he were a
regular.
Morris took the attention in stride, his pleasure betrayed only by the quirk of
his lips. Eyes zeroed in on me, he hopped of the stage and made his way back to
our table. I quickly slid his drink back so he wouldn't know I'd tasted it. That
was something to bring up another day.
"So who's the better drummer now?" Morris pulled out a chair and took a seat,
still breathing heavily.
"It wouldn't be fair to say, since August Summers hasn't played yet," I replied
playfully. "But you put on an impressive performance." I was overtaken with the
urge to kiss him. Before I could think about it, I found myself leaning over the
table, pressing my lips to his cheek in a quick peck, the closest to PDA I
assumed Morris would find acceptable.
He turned his face toward me at the last second. Our mouths nearly brushed. I
froze, our eyes locking. He brought one large hand to my cheek, drawing me
closer. My heart jumped.
"Your hair is all tangled."
I let out a short laugh, heart beating wildly. "Your lead singer is a handful."
"He is." Strong fingers sifted through the hair at my temples. Morris cocked
his head. "You want to get out of here?"
The words sent a flood of heat racing through me, nerves tingling.
 "And miss out on watching the genius drummer of Darkest Days?" I teased,
heartbeat still racing. "I don't know, what if I never get this chance again?"
His eyes flashed with an almost wicked heat. The warmth in my body
centered between my legs. He leaned in until we were a mere hairbreadth away
and murmured against my lips.
"I promise I'll make it worth your while."
 Chapter 18


We barely made it through his front door before our lips met with a fervor.
The drive back to Morris's place has been filled with heavy silence, full of
unspoken sexual tension. I'd snuck glances at him every few minutes until he
reached over and took my hand in his, using the other to drive his newly
purchased bright red sports car. I tried to ignore the reason he'd had to buy a new
one. He'd tossed his keys to the valet and tugged me into the elevator, not letting
go of my hand the entire ride up.
The moment the door to his condo swung closed, his hands were at my hips,
pressing our bodies together. I tipped my head back and stood on my toes,
wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him closer. Our eyes met for a brief
second, heat simmering between us, then his mouth was on mine, his tongue
prying my lips apart, seeking entrance.
The last time we'd been this close, I'd been a mess of emotions and bursting
with questions. This time, there was no hesitation, no reservations.
Forget the fake relationship. I wanted Morris. Morris wanted me. It was as
simple as that.
We broke away from each other with panting breaths. He lowered his head to
my neck, tongue running a hot stripe up my throat. I let out a shaky whimper at
the sensation.
He stepped backward, dragging me along with him, leading us to the sofa. In
one fluid motion he sat and tugged me onto his lap, my thighs spread on either
side of him. I arched my back, trying to find a comfortable position.
He let out a hiss when my squirming brought our hips together. The hardness
of him was evident, pushing up against the zipper of his jeans. I continued to
grind up against him, wanting to hear that sound again, wanting to hear how
much he wanted me.
He rewarded me with a groan. Two hands grabbed my hips, stilling them. "If
you don't stop that squirming I'm going to fuck you right here on the sofa."
A sharp spike of arousal hit me, sending a throbbing ache between my legs. "I
don't see a problem with that."
His eyes flashed, dark and heated. "I need a proper bed if I'm going to fuck
you until you scream."
My insides quivered as I imagined just that. Morris, moving inside me, slow
and teasing at first, then slamming into me, hot and furious.
But there was one thing I wanted to do before that.
 "Right," I nodded. "No more squirming. Got it." I slithered off his lap until I
was kneeling on the floor in front of him. He inhaled a sharp breath.
"What are you doing?" he asked, voice hoarse.
"I don't think it's fair you got to taste me last time, but I didn't get to taste
you." I unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock. It was thick, rigid in my
hands, and absolutely perfect. The heat of his skin matched the heat rising inside
me.
He placed one hand on the side of my head, fingers sifting through the strands.
"Natalie, you don't have to. I didn't do it because I expected you to return the
favor. I just wanted to—"
"Morris? Stop talking."
With one swift movement, I took him into my mouth, lips pressing against his
thick length, taking him down as far as I could go.
"Fuuuuck." He groaned, head tipping back, thumping on the back of the sofa.
The fingers in my hair clenched down, almost but not quite pulling.
I leaned back slowly, dragging my tongue along the underside, until I reached
the head. I swirled around, sucking lightly as my lips and tongue played with the
tip. The soft groans and moans being pulled from him sent a flush of pleasure
racing through me. I loved knowing I could make him feel as good as he made
me feel.
I bobbed up and down, pursing my lips to provide a tight suction. As much as
I wanted to swallow him whole, I could barely take him more than halfway.
Shivers ran up my spine as I imagined how it would feel to have that massive,
stiff length sliding into me.
I licked and swirled and sucked at him, enjoying the heavy weight of his cock
on my tongue. He pulsed and throbbed inside my mouth, growing even harder.
Fingers tightened in my hair. I knew he was close.
With no warning, he pulled me off his cock with a pop and crushed his mouth
to mine.
"Bed," he groaned against my lips. "Now."
I nodded adamantly. Instead of walking, he wrapped both arms around my
waist and hoisted me up and over his shoulder. I let out a soft shriek as he carried
me down the hallway.
"You gonna hit me over the head with your club, too?" I teased, kicking my
legs out playfully.
"You just wait and see what I'm going to do with my club."
Even as I giggled at the double meaning, my heart jumped wildly, anticipating
what was coming next.
When we reached his bedroom we fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs,
kissing and touching each other with a fervor. A quick tug sent my dress sailing
across the room, along with my panties. I reached for his t-shirt, wanting to feel
him skin to skin.
His hands shot down and gripped my wrists tight, keeping me from lifting his
shirt up. I looked up, surprised. He softened his touch and gently took my hands
in his, redirecting my attention. He grasped both my wrists and raised them
above my head, pinning me down. Before I could comment on his odd reaction,
he leaned down and devoured my lips.
I let myself be distracted by the blistering kiss. The stiff length of his cock
nudged against my hip. I bucked against him, letting him know exactly what I
wanted.
He shifted his hips, but instead of sliding inside me, he brought his hand
between my legs, slowly stroking my folds. My inner walls clenched in
anticipation. He stroked and rubbed and teased me until I thought I would go
mad.
"Please," I choked out.
"Please what?" he murmured against my skin.
"I— I need…" I trailed off with a moan, too overwhelmed with desire to make
my brain work. I gasped sharply as he thrust a finger inside me.
"Is this what you need?" he asked with dark amusement.
I exhaled a groan as my hips rocked, following the movement of his hand.
He pumped in and out, first with one finger, then with two, until I was a
moaning, writhing mess. I thought it couldn't get any better until he leaned down
and sucked my clit into his mouth.
I let out a strangled shriek at the sudden heat and pressure as pleasure twisted
through me. I couldn't stop clawing and scratching at the bedsheets, couldn't stop
my hips from rocking back and forth. I clutched at his hair, at his shoulders,
limbs shaking and out of control. All the energy in my body kept me vibrating,
on edge.
He lifted his head and I moaned in protest as the pleasure ceased.
"Natalie. Just relax. Let me take care of you."
I whined, a high pitched noise in the back of my throat, and shook my head
back and forth silently. I couldn't make myself lay still, even if it killed me.
"Do I need to tie you down?" he asked, teasing.
I let out a small whimper, cheeks flushing and thighs pressing together. A look
of surprise flashed across his face before being replaced by an almost wicked tilt
of his lips.
"You like that idea?"
I gave a shaky nod. I did. I liked it a lot.
 He left the bed for a brief moment and returned with my panties in his hand.
My eyes grew wide. He wasn't going to…?
Grasping both my wrists in one hand, he used my own panties to tie me to the
headboard, my arms secured over my head.
"Is this okay?" he asked.
I gave an experimental tug. The knot he'd tied wasn't going to come loose no
matter how much I squirmed and twisted.
The thought of being restrained while Morris fucked me into the mattress was
so hot my brain nearly short-circuited.
"I want to hear you say it out loud," he said.
"More than okay," I managed to whisper, my voice wavering.
He ran a hand up and down my side. "Good girl."
With just two words, he turned my insides into liquid. I wanted to be good for
him. I wanted to please him as much as he wanted to please me.
"Now just lie back and let me take care of you."
Something inside me, something buried deep, responded to those words on a
completely different level. This went beyond pleasure and sex and orgasms. This
was primal, something fundamental to my being.
I wanted to let go. Let go of my fears and worries and just be. To lose myself
in the sensations, to stop thinking and just feel, like he'd said before.
I wanted to give up control.
At that realization, I relaxed back into the mattress, the tension in my
shoulders easing.
His fingers returned, slipping back inside me slowly, inch by inch. I let out a
deep moan and closed my eyes, letting my thighs fall open further. The rough
slide of his fingers against my inner walls caused small jolts of pleasure to sing
through me.
He added another finger and sped up, moving faster and faster. Those small
jolts turned into lightning bolts, rocketing through my body. I couldn't move my
arms so instead I thrashed my head back and forth, eyes squeezed tightly shut. I
let out a low wailing sound as that familiar tingling sensation flooded my body,
starting from my core and exploding outwards, consuming me whole.
My body was still shuddering with pleasure when he positioned his hips
between my legs. Somehow he'd managed to kick his jeans off without me
noticing because our legs tangled together, skin to skin. His length brushed my
hip and I could tell he'd taken the time to use protection.
He rotated his hips in small circles, teasing me with his tip at my entrance. I
whined in the back of my throat, trying to buck up and get him where I wanted
him.
 With no warning he thrust inside. The shock of it, the sweet ache of it, sent me
reeling, setting me off again for a second time. It was like fireworks bursting
across the sky, searing every nerve ending, only a million times better because I
could feel the sweet ache of my inner muscles fluttering and clenching down
around his cock.
He continued thrusting into me with small, shallow movements at first, letting
me get used to his length, giving me time to stretch around him. With every
stroke he went deeper and deeper, until I thought he couldn't possible fit any
more inside me. He grabbed my thighs and practically lifted my hips off the bed,
pulling me even closer, spreading my legs wider. With that new angle, he thrust
into me even further than before.
My eyes flew open as he filled me completely, as if his cock were finding
every secret place inside me and setting off explosives. I clenched down around
him as pleasure ripped through me again. His hips jerked as he growled in my
ear, a low, possessive sound.
"Fuck, Natalie, I'm—"
His breath caught before releasing in a groan. His fingers tightened on my
hips, an almost bruising grip, and slammed into me again and again. The force of
his thrusts prolonged my own pleasure, until I was breathless, my vision going
white, then dark around the edges, my eyes falling shut as I collapsed onto the
bed in a near faint.
When I came back to my senses, the heavy weight of his body was pressing
my own into the mattress, although careful not to crush me. One strong arm
gathered up my limp body while the other worked to untie me from the
headboard. Nimble fingers massaged my wrists, easing the tingling sensation.
"You okay?" he rumbled deep in his chest, his own pleasure making his voice
low and rough.
"Mmmm…"
My brain was so fried I couldn't make proper words. Instead, I snuggled down
into his chest with a pleased sigh. He placed a kiss on the top of my head,
gathered me close, and sank into the mattress beside me.
"I think I stretched out the elastic of your panties."
"I'll buy new ones," I mumbled.
"Next time I'll break out the handcuffs."
My eyes flew open. Next time? Handcuffs? "Are you joking? You own
handcuffs?"
"Did you think I got the idea to tie you down out of nowhere?"
I processed the thought for several long minutes before a grin spread across
my face. "Who would have thought quiet, somber Morris would be the kinky
BDSM type?"
"Just BD. I'm not into the SM part, so much."
"Neither am I, I don't think."
"We're a good match, then."
My heart fluttered in my chest. He'd just fucked me until I practically passed
out, and yet with one sentence he still made me swoon like a fourteen-year-old
girl.
I buried my face his chest to hide my blush. The lack of skin against skin, the
feel of soft cotton against my cheek made me pause. I pressed a palm against his
firm abs and played with the hem of his shirt.
"You never take it off."
"Hm?"
"Your shirt. You kept it on last time, too."
Morris went still for a brief moment. I thought he might say something, but he
stayed quiet. I didn't want to pry, but I had a feeling this, whatever it was, had to
be important.
"You never take your shirt off on stage, either."
He still didn't speak.
I steeled myself. "Is it because of the scars on your chest?"
He rolled over and pinned me to the bed. Green eyes met mine. His expression
was hard at first, closed off and remote. Then his face slowly relaxed, his eyes
going soft.
"This isn't the usual kind of pillow talk," he said with a wry smile.
I placed a hand on his chest. "I want to know. I want to know more about
you."
He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply through his nose. "I told you I didn't
exactly have an ideal childhood."
I nodded silently.
"It was a rough neighborhood. Lots of violence. I was one of the bigger kids.
Always was. I felt like it was up to me to keep the others safe."
"You got into fights?" I asked hesitantly.
"Yeah."
"And that's where you got those scars?"
"I'm lucky I don't have more of them. The ones on my chest were from a
particularly bad fight." He let out a shuddering breath and ducked his head,
hiding his face in my neck. "I tried to protect them. Sometimes I couldn't."
The pain in his voice almost undid me. "You can talk about it, if you want. I'll
listen."
He was silent for long moments. Then he spoke, his voice distant and remote,
as if he were recounting someone else's story.
"My best friend Harper was killed."
My heart squeezed in my chest, a pang of sympathy shooting through me. "I'm
so sorry."
"We grew up together, relied on each other. Promised to always protect each
other." His chest heaved with a huge exhale. "And it was my fault."
"Morris…" I leaned my head on his shoulder and wrapped my arm around his
chest. "I'm sure it wasn't."
"It was. I should have been there. Instead, I was out drinking, partying. I didn't
answer my phone."
"What happened?" I asked quietly.
"A local gang wanted me to join. I refused. I had plans. I was going to get out.
Make something of myself. But they wouldn't take no for an answer." He let out
a breath. "They retaliated. Took out one of the few people I cared about."
I buried my face in his shoulder and held him tight, as if by seeking comfort I
could somehow ease his pain, too.
"I should have been there. Instead I was out partying and acting like a drunken
idiot."
I could hear the overwhelming guilt in his voice, consuming him from the
inside. I didn't know what to say. Apologies and platitudes wouldn't do anything
to assuage his guilt.
"I swore I'd never let myself get like that again. I stopped partying. Stopped
drinking."
Was that why Morris's usual at the bar was ginger ale? Rock stars had to keep
up appearances, he'd said so himself. Ginger ale in a whiskey glass was a good
enough cover. No one would have ever guessed Morris avoided drinking.
He rolled off me to lie on his back and ran one hand over his face. "I'm sorry.
This is a shitty thing to talk about after sex."
"No, it's okay. I want to listen. I want to know more about you, even the bad
stuff." I trailed a finger along the neckline of his t-shirt. "Can I see?"
"You sure?" he asked quietly. "It's not pretty."
Instead of answering I placed my hands on his stomach and ran them up his
chest, t-shirt lifting with the movement. I tugged it off his head and looked
down.
The lines of his scars were thick ridges, still red and angry-looking. I trailed
my fingertips along them with a soft touch, memorizing every inch of raised
skin.
"Not much to look at," he said, aiming for a wry tone, but only sounding
pained.
 I pressed light kisses all over his chest, being careful to purposely kiss the
scars and not avoid them. "You're perfect."
He let out a snort of a laugh. "You're just smitten."
"Maybe," I admitted. "You're hard to resist, you know that?"
"I know," he quirked a smile. "Why would you even try?"
I went silent, continuing to kiss across his broad chest and down to his
abdomen. I didn't want to talk about the reasons why I was so hesitant to get
involved with Morris. He'd promised to protect me. For once, I thought maybe
someone could. For once, I could let someone in.
My kisses went lower and lower, reaching the line of dark hair trailing down
to the apex of his thighs, where his rapidly hardening length was calling to me
again. He ran his hands through my hair and tugged to try and pull me back up.
"If you go any lower, I'll have to pin you down and fuck you again."
I look up at him with what I hoped was a seductive smile.
"You promise?"
 Chapter 19


After another orgasm or two each, we were finally spent. Or, Morris was, at
least. I was still buzzing with arousal, every touch inflaming my desire for him. I
slipped off the bed and pulled my dress back on, leaving my panties on the floor.
"I'll get us some water," I told him with a quick kiss.
He responded to the kiss, lazy and slow but full of tongue. "Come back
quick."
"You ready to go again?" I teased.
Laughter rumbled in his chest. "Give me a few more minutes."
A shiver went through me. I couldn't get enough.
He had one of those fancy fridges with a water filtration and ice machine built
in. I stared at the fridge absentmindedly as I filled two glasses. The photos of
him and his band mates were cute, just a bunch of rowdy boys hanging out with
their friends. My eyes shifted to the other photo, the one I'd noticed earlier. One
entire half of the photo was still covered by a magnet. Morris posed with two
other teenaged boys, both with grinning faces. His arm was around a person I
couldn't see.
I snuck a look back to the bedroom. Morris was still inside. I put the glasses
aside and removed the magnet, taking the photo down from the fridge.
The other half of the picture showed Morris with his arm slung around a
young woman's waist. She was tall, for a girl, although certainly not compared to
Morris, with an adorably cute smile. She was looking off to the side, smiling
sweetly up to the rest of the group. Looking up at Morris? With her long chestnut
hair and oval face, I could almost see a resemblance between her and myself.
My heart clenched in my chest, an acute pain radiating outwards.
This must be Harper. That group must have been his friends in the band. They
all looked happy, even Morris. Despite his solemn expression I saw a hint of a
smile playing at his lips.
I continued staring at the photo, as if I could decipher all its secrets by burning
a hole into it with my eyes.
Morris had covered this part of the photo with a magnet, cutting the girl out of
the picture. Had it been on purpose?
"Natalie?" Morris called.
I started and hurried to put the photo back in place, pinning it on the fridge
with the same magnet. I brought the two glasses of water to the bedroom. Morris
immediately looked concerned.
 "What's wrong?"
I planted a wide smile onto my face. "Nothing." I settled back onto the bed
and handed him his water. I put my own on the nightstand and tucked my head
under his chin, avoiding his eyes. "You've exhausted me, that's all."
He gave a quiet chuckle. "Energetic, overzealous Natalie is finally out of
energy? I never thought I'd see the day."
I forced out a small laugh and sank further into the mattress, pressing myself
against his side. "Just give me a minute to recharge."
He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. "We've got all the time in the world."
My throat closed up. Did he really mean that? I couldn't stop thinking about
what he'd told me about his past, and about that photo. I could finally put the
pieces together.
Harper was the girl in the photo. His band mate. His best friend. His first
love? He said she was one of the few people he cared about. He hadn't called her
his girlfriend. Maybe they'd never gotten to that point. Did he regret it? Would
he always wonder what might have been? She'd died and he thought it was his
fault. He still carried that guilt around with him to this day.
How could I possibly compete with that? Every time he looked at me, he
thought of her. His guilt. His failure to protect her.
That's why Morris wanted to protect me, even from the beginning when we'd
been strangers. He thought by protecting me, he could make up for failing to
protect her.
None of this had anything to do with me. It had everything to do with his
guilt. With his feelings for her. It had nothing to do with his feelings for me.
If he felt anything for me at all.
 Chapter 20


Every time I walked into The Impact Center, I got bombarded by a gaggle of
kids that seemed to grow with every passing week. Boys and girls alike, most of
them in their tweens or early teens, threw themselves at me and started
chattering away the moment I stepped through the doors. It was like they had
some sort of sixth sense. No matter what time of day I showed up, there would
be half a dozen there to greet me. I was slowly getting used to it.
A few of them were getting to that age where they tried to act cool around
adults, but luckily none of them displayed the attitude I'd feared would come
with the onset of puberty.
Today, one of the chattier of the bunch, an eleven-year-old girl with long
awkward limbs and a gap in her front teeth tugged furiously at my arm.
"Natalie, Natalie! I've been practicing on the drums every day and the director
keeps yelling at me because he says it's not a toy, but I know that and I just really
really like to play and I want to become really really good like Morris!"
Kaylee was a good kid with an abundance of energy and almost no attention
span. I didn't think anything could hold her attention for more than a few
minutes, but something about the drums gave her laser-focus.
I pried her hand off my arm and instead clasped it in mine, swinging it back
and forth between us like a human jump rope. "If you're really serious about it,
maybe we can talk to him and see if we can get you special permission."
"Thank you Natalie!" She threw her arms around me, squeezing tight before
zipping off with her friends.
"I'll talk to him," Jessie said, coming up beside me. "A lot of the kids just like
to mess around with the instruments, and he's always worried they'll break them
without supervision. He's been the Executive Director since this place opened, so
he's experienced a lot of difficult kids. But if some of them are really serious
about it, there's no reason why they shouldn't be able to practice. I'll remind him
we should be encouraging them when they show an interest in something."
"They really do seem to love those rock band lessons."
"I don't know if it's the lessons or if it's you and Morris. The kids think you
both hung the moon."
"They've grown on me," I confessed. "You were right. They're good kids.
They just have so much energy. It's always go-go-go."
"Sounds like someone I know." Jessie gave me a cheeky grin. "It's good to
have someone who can keep up with them. God knows they've worn out more
than a few volunteers through the years."
"It'll be sad to say goodbye."
Jessie tilted her head, confused. "Why would you say goodbye?"
"I'm only here for the summer. Once school starts again I'll be busy with
classes and coursework, not to mention my part time job. I won't have time to
volunteer any more."
"Part time job?"
"During the school year I have a job selling shoes. Not very glamorous."
Jessie gave me a considering look, almost calculating, before flashing a smile.
"I'm gonna go talk to the Director now. See you in class!"
She bounced off in the other direction as I made my way through the building
to the music hall. I'd barely gone two steps before strong arms wrapped around
me from behind, swinging me in a circle. I squealed, taken off guard. The firm
chest against my back and the woodsy, masculine scent told me exactly who it
was. I relaxed into the embrace with a smile.
When I was set down on my feet, I found myself nose to nose with Morris, me
on my tiptoes and him crouching over. "You sure do like tossing me around."
"You're fun to manhandle."
"No manhandling in front of the children." Despite my words, I brought my
arms up around his neck anyway.
He tightened his grip on me. "What about canoodling?"
"Absolutely not."
"Is a bit of fondling out, too?"
I chuckled and pulled away. I knew Morris was joking. He would never do
something like make out in public, and definitely not around the kids. Still, it
was nice to know the urge was still there, even if he wouldn't act on it.
With Morris's schedule, we hadn't spent much time together after that night I'd
stayed over.
Since that night he tied you to his bed and fucked your brains out, my inner
voice smirked. I fought back a flush and told it to shut up.
But during the times we had spent together, he'd been especially handsy.
Always brushing my hair out of my face and stroking my fingers, or, in the
private moments when we were alone, wrapping his arms around my waist and
placing quick kisses on my lips. It was exhilarating to have this man's attention.
If I only knew whether it was really me he cared about, or some ghost from
his past.
"I think the kids are waiting for us to start the lessons," I said.
He took my hand in his, giving it a squeeze, but let go before we entered the
music room full of kids. They all cheered when we walked in, their faces
lighting up.
A sense of wonder settled in my chest. These kids really did look forward to
our lessons, if their beaming cheeks were any indication. And I looked forward
to them, too. Teaching kids music was turning out to be as fulfilling as I'd hoped.
With all my worries about Kevin's reappearance and Morris's potential
feelings for me, I'd forgotten what this summer was supposed to be about.
As idealistic as it was, I wanted to change these kids' lives through music.
Morris picked up a pair of drumsticks and twirled them between his fingers,
showing off. They all oohed and aahed. His lips quirked up into a pleased smile.
"All right future rock stars. Who's ready to make some noise?"
 Chapter 21


The kids were getting better with every passing week, surpassing all my
expectations — although those had been low to begin with.
We started with about two dozen, but as one would expect, the kids with short
attention spans, younger ones especially, dropped out early on when they
realized learning an instrument was hard work.
The few who kept with it had real talent. With five kids left between the ages
of eleven and fourteen we had enough for a proper band including a guitarist,
bassist, and keyboardist.
I probably shouldn't have played favorites but I had a soft spot for Micah, the
thirteen-year-old I was teaching keyboard. Unlike most boys his age, he was
quiet and polite, yet eager to learn. He reminded me of a mini-Morris.
In between teaching Micah, I snuck a glance at Morris from across the room.
He stood behind Kaylee, the eleven-year-old girl playing drums, her brows
narrowed in concentration as she pounded away. He practically dwarfed her as
he leaned down to reposition her arms when she got too carried away and started
flailing.
He was so good with kids. Patient and even tempered. He was never frustrated
or exasperated with them no matter how many times he had to go over the same
things, and was generous with words of encouragement. His chest seemed to
swell with pride whenever Kaylee nailed a particularly difficult set of moves.
He would make a really great dad.
I jerked my head back down to the keyboard with a flush. I couldn't let myself
think things like that. What Morris and I had wasn't permanent. It wasn't real. I
had no business imagining any sort of future with him, especially not one that
involved children.
Besides, did Morris even want kids?
I gave myself a mental shake and returned my attention to Micah until our
lessons were done for the day.
"If you want to keep practicing on your own, Jessie is going to ask the director
to give you special permission to play the instruments without supervision," I
told the kids before they all headed out. "But you have to promise to be extra
careful, okay? We don't have many spares laying around if you accidentally
break something."
"We'll be good!" Kaylee chirped, jumping up and down and clapping her
hands with glee.
 Morris and I shared a wince. If anyone was going to break something it would
be Kaylee, with her enthusiastic attempts at mimicking Morris.
"Remember to take it easy, munchkin," Morris reminded her. "You need to be
controlled with your movements. Got it?"
"Got it!"
The kids filed out, some heading to the entrance to be picked up by their
parents, and some heading off to the gymnasium to work off their excess energy.
"There's a good chance these kids might actually pull off a good performance
at the end of the summer," I said.
"Doubting your teaching skills?"
"Maybe a little. Mostly, doubting their attention spans."
"You're a great teacher," Morris reassured me. "Micah hangs onto your every
word. I'm starting to worry."
"Worry?"
"I think I have some competition for your affections."
I looked away. I knew I shouldn't read too much into those words. He was just
teasing me, like always. "I'll let him down easy."
"You ever think about having kids?" he said almost causally, taking me off
guard.
"Sure," I said without thinking. "Teaching is great, but I always thought it
would be nice to have at least one or two children of my own. With the right
person."
Morris tilted his head, a curious look crossing his face.
"I mean, not right now or anything," I hurried to say. "I'm way too young for
that. I'm still in school, I've got almost no money, I'm not even in a real—"
I stopped short. I didn't want to say out loud that I wasn't in a real relationship.
Even though I knew this whole thing was fake, I still wanted to pretend there
was something between Morris and I. Sometimes, with the way he looked at me
and touched me so gently, I had to think he felt something for me. But he never
said anything, and we hadn't talked about our relationship status.
I had to keep reminding myself that nothing had changed.
"I'm just not in a good position right now to even think about having kids," I
finished. "But someday."
"Same with me."
"Really?"
"You sound surprised."
"Rock stars aren't known for being family-man material. Always on tour,
always partying hard. Why would you want to give that up to settle down with a
wife and kids and a white picket fence?"
 "I can't be a party-hard rock star forever," he said, quirking a smile.
"Eventually I'll have to settle down. Why not a wife and kids and white picket
fence?"
This conversation was heading in all sorts of directions I wasn't prepared for.
Talking about Morris and his future — a future that almost certainly wouldn't
include me — made my heart sink to my stomach.
Now might be a good time to have The Talk, but I didn't know if I wanted to
risk it. He would just confirm there was nothing serious between us. I wasn't sure
I'd be able to continue fake-dating him, and for-real-sleeping with him, when I
finally heard out loud that he didn't feel anything for me.
"Let's go out tonight," he said unexpectedly. "I'll take you to dinner some
place nice."
"Right. We haven't been seen in public for a while. Gotta keep the media
talking."
Morris wrapped an arm around my waist and tucked me against his side. "Or
maybe I just want to spend time with you."
I looked up to meet his eyes, trying to gauge his sincerity. "Really?" I
immediately regretted asking, not wanting to come off as needy or insecure.
He gave me an indulgent look. "You really have to ask if I want to spend time
with you?" He leaned down to murmur in my ear. "Do I need to tie you to my
bed all weekend and prove it to you?"
I buried my flushed face in his chest. "I wouldn't protest."
Cupping my cheek with one large palm, he tipped my face up to look at him.
"Are you still worrying about this fake relationship thing?"
Now my face really was on fire. "No, it's okay, I mean, I know this is all just
for show, but why not have fun with each other in the meantime, right? It's
nothing serious, I get that."
His eyes softened. "Is that what you've been thinking this whole time?"
I lowered my gaze to the ground, not wanting to meet his. "Well. Yeah."
Morris chuckled quietly. "I should have known. Despite all your babbling, that
was the one thing you never rambled about." Placing both hands on the small of
my back, he reeled me in close until our bodies were pressed together. "This
stopped being fake a long time ago, Natalie."
"But I—"
"I like you," he interrupted. "I want you to be my girlfriend for real."
"But you—"
"Natalie." He quirked a smile. "Stop talking."
He bent down, capturing my lips with his own. I kissed him back without
thinking, my body so used to responding to his. His tongue ran along my upper
lip and I surrendered, letting him inside. He deepened the kiss, tongue sliding
against mine until my head spun, the kiss so sweet and gentle I thought my heart
might burst in my chest.
He pulled back an inch, leaving me breathless. Placing one last soft peck on
my lips, he murmured into my mouth.
"Do you believe me now?"
"I dunno," I said, almost in a daze. "You may have to tell me one more time."
Morris smiled softly. "I'll tell you as often as you like."
 Chapter 22


Although Morris told me he was taking me some place nice and we'd taken a
short limo there, I hadn't expected to walk into one of the hottest new restaurants
in town, with celebrity chefs and a months-long wait list. We were escorted to a
table near the back by a perky young woman dressed all in black.
"How did you even get reservations?" I asked with awe. Dim, romantic
lighting highlighted the lush decor of dark woods and red velvets. Candles sat in
brass wall sconces and crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling.
"I know a guy," Morris said easily.
"You continue to surprise me."
"How's that?"
"First you take me to a dank, dirty, dive bar, and now this."
"I'll give you dank but Walt's bar isn't dirty. Jess keeps the place clean."
I declined to remind him of the sticky floors and tables.
The hostess settled us into our booth, surrounded by walls on three sides.
"Cozy," I noted. "Very private."
Morris raised an eyebrow. "Are you thinking naughty thoughts right now?"
I flushed. "No!"
"I think you are."
"I'm not." I picked up the menu to distract myself, and frowned. "This menu
doesn't have prices."
"Don't worry about it. Order whatever you want."
"What if I end up ordering the most expensive thing on the menu?"
"Stay away from the Canard à la Rouennaise and you'll be fine."
"Do I want to know what that is?"
"Roast duck."
"That sounds pretty good."
"With its bones and organs crushed and juiced into a sauce right at the table."
I blanched. "I'll stick to plain old chicken, thanks."
"I always go with steak. Can never go wrong with a steak, even at places like
this," His eyes scanned the room with a look of almost distaste on his face.
"Do you not like this restaurant?" I asked, confused.
"It's fine."
A thought dawned on me. "You don't need to take me places you hate just
because you think I might like to go. I'd be just as happy sitting at home in our
pajamas watching a movie."
 "You, in tiny little sleep shorts?" His foot nudged mine under the table. "We
wouldn't waste time watching a movie."
I hid a smile behind my menu as a waiter came to take our order. I let Morris
do the talking. The menu was all in French and I didn't want to embarrass myself
with terrible pronunciation.
"I ordered you the Cordon Bleu," he explained after the waiter left. "That
okay?"
"Good choice. I actually know what that is. You should just take me out for a
slice of greasy pizza next time."
"You never seemed like a greasy pizza kind of girl."
I gave Morris a narrow-eyed look. "What kind of girl do I seem like?"
Morris scanned me up and down, face thoughtful as if sincerely considering
the question. "Sophisticated. Elegant."
I snorted out a laugh, completely unlady-like. "Are you high?"
"Not at all. There's something classy about you."
"On the outside maybe. I admit I clean up pretty well, but the moment I open
my mouth I ruin everything."
"You don't."
"You've had to put up with my random outbursts and excitable flailing for
months."
"You're passionate. I love that about you."
My heart stuttered at the L word. I took a quick sip of water to hide my flush.
That's also what he loved about Harper, that damnable inner voice snarked.
I shoved the negative thought away. Harper had nothing to do with this. She
was in the past. Morris and I were together now, and that's all that mattered. He
wouldn't have said he wanted a real relationship if it wasn't true. After all, I'd
already slept with him. It wasn't like he was just using me for sex.
I flushed inwardly. That was a terrible thing to think. But Morris was a rock
star. I'd heard the stories. Seen the way all his fans flocked to him. I could at
least console myself with the fact that Morris never seemed to care for their
attention, at least not in that way.
Morris had feelings for me. I had to trust in that.
I studied him for a minute, remembering the way he acted around his fans, and
Kell's words at the bar. He had said Morris was opening up to me.
"It takes you a while to warm up to people, doesn't it?"
"How do you mean?"
"With your friends you're more open. Less quiet. You always seem genuinely
happy to be around your fans, but you're more somber around them."
Morris seemed to consider that for a moment. "I suppose so. I want to show
them how much I appreciate them. Kell and Jayce are flippant sometimes. Like
everything is a joke or a game. I want my fans to know I take their support
seriously. That I don't take them for granted."
My heart melted a little. I always wondered if maybe Morris hated the
attention and only put up with fangirls because he was forced to.
"You're a wonderful person," I blurted without thinking.
"I'm really not."
"You are," I insisted. "A lot of celebrities are assholes with big egos. You
though… you're different. That's why I always lo—" I cut myself off sharply and
looked down. Even though he'd used the L word first, I knew he didn't mean it in
that way. He couldn't possibly. "Sorry. I don't like reminding you that I was one
of your squealing fans."
He tilted his head. "Why not?"
"I want you to think of me as a normal girl."
"You've never been normal."
"Gee, thanks."
He chuckled. "I mean, there's always been something special about you. The
first time I remember seeing you, you caught my attention."
"At Ivy's party?"
"Before that."
I was confused for a moment before groaning. "Are you talking about that
video? I was such a hot mess, I'm surprised I didn't scare you off."
"You were definitely hot. That low cut sequined top? Very sexy."
"How do you even remember what I was wearing? You must have gone
through hundreds of submissions."
His eyes slid from mine, looking almost abashed for a brief second, as if he
were that metaphorical kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar. I wondered
why. "You're very memorable," he said after a minute, giving me the same
answer Kell had.
"I'm not sure that's a good thing."
"It's a very good thing."
I wanted to ask, then why didn't you pick me? But I didn't. Things had worked
out in the end, anyway.
"You want to take a photo together?" Morris said, interrupting my thoughts.
I looked up, astonished. "You don't like selfies. That one time at the diner, you
didn't take any pictures with those girls, even though they asked."
"They'd already taken up enough of my time. I didn't want to interrupt my date
with you. Besides, I'm not much of a selfie guy. If I only have a limited time to
interact with my fans, I'd rather do it face-to-face."
 Morris had taken a selfie with me the last time I'd seen him in concert, just
before I'd been introduced to him in person for real. Everything had been such a
blur, I couldn't remember much, but I did have a feeling I'd just shoved myself
against his side and clicked a photo without asking. Shame flooded through me.
That picture was my most prized possession. I used to look at it every day, as a
reminder of my brief brush with my celebrity crush. Now that thought brought
my shame. Maybe I should have just deleted it.
"I don't like selfies with fans," he continued. "But you're my girlfriend. Totally
different." He stood and scooted beside me on my side of the booth, pressing up
against my side. "We don't have any pictures together that we've taken
ourselves."
We took several photos until I was happy with the quality, fixing my hair in
between shots while Morris teased me about being vain.
I finally had a real photo of me and Morris. A picture of us as a couple, not as
a fan and rock star. Maybe it was time to delete that old photo, now that I had a
real one.
Then again, wouldn't it make for a cute photo to show in a slideshow at our
wedding?
I gave myself a mental slap. Too soon. Way too soon to be thinking about
things like that.
I looked at one of the outtakes, when I hadn't been ready. Morris's eyes were
on me, soft and affectionate.
Almost loving.
Maybe it wasn't too soon to be thinking about our future.
 Chapter 23


When our food came, Morris didn't slide back to his side of the booth.
"Let's eat sitting next to each other," he suggested. "It's more romantic." He
placed one hand on my upper thigh, fingers brushing the bare skin exposed by
my short dress. I flushed and agreed.
"How is it?" he asked after I'd taken my first bite.
I opened my mouth to reply. All that came out was a choking sound as fingers
skimmed underneath the hem. My thighs tensed as a wave of heat washed
through me.
"Is the chicken good?" He slid the hem over my thighs and bunched it around
my waist, leaving my bare legs and panties on display.
"What are you doing?" I tried to use a scolding tone, but it came out breathless
instead.
"You were thinking about this, weren't you?" he murmured in my ear.
"We're in public," I hissed. A part of me wanted to object, to push him away,
but I couldn't deny I was already throbbing inside. Another part, a loud
clamoring part, was telling me to spread my legs and give him better access.
I didn't fight it. Morris cupped me between the legs, the tips of his fingers
rubbing and exploring.
"This is so wrong," I whimpered.
"Doesn't that make it more fun?" His voice was low and slightly wicked.
"I thought you didn't do PDA?"
His hand was hot as fingers slid between my folds through a thin layer of
cotton. "We're in a private booth." With every word he slid back and forth, slow
and deliberate. "No one can see." He sped up, creating more friction. My
stomach muscles clenched. "Besides, I tipped the waiter to keep everyone away
from this section."
A thumb slid over my clit, pressing down, no doubt feeling the dampness
already soaking my panties. I let out a quiet squeak and clamped a hand over my
mouth.
He traced the hem of my panties and I looked down just in time to watch him
slip inside. The tips of his fingers sought my entrance, almost-but-not-quite
penetrating. My hips had a mind of their own as I bucked into his touch, my
body reveling in the sensations even as my mind yammered at me that someone
was going to see.
Morris was right. The thought of being caught was hot as hell.
 I rolled my hips, urging him on. A finger thrust inside. My head fell against
the back of the booth as my inner walls parted around him.
"You're so gorgeous." He added a second finger. I groaned as he continued
playing with me, all my senses focused on that one spot, feeling the burn in my
thighs as they clenched and unclenched. I was getting close.
"Come for me, Natalie," he murmured in my ear.
His thumb pressed down on my clit with a circling motion and I tensed up, all
my muscles locking as pleasure crashed over me. I felt myself flutter around his
fingers as he eased me through it, not stopping his thrusting motions until I had
completely relaxed, slumped back against the wall. Slowly, inch by inch, he slid
out of me.
"Wow," I said weakly, my eyes still closed.
He chuckled and pressed a kiss to the side of my head. "I love that look."
"What look?"
"Your face after you've come. All flushed pink and pretty. I could look at that
face for hours."
That only made me blush harder. I sat up and tugged my skirt down, trying to
compose myself. "Our dinner is getting cold."
"Forget the dinner. Let's just go. I haven't had enough of that look, yet.
Besides, I hate French food anyway."
We left the restaurant, leaving our food practically untouched, and hurried our
way to the back where our limo was waiting. Morris opened the door and tugged
me inside so that I fell into his lap as he leaned back into his seat.
"Now what was I saying about that fucked-out look on your pretty face?"
I was glad the partition separating us from the driver was rolled all the way up
and tinted black. "Aren't you going to at least wait until we get back to your
place?"
"Hmm, I don't know," he drawled. "I might not be able to make it that long."
Morris took my hips in both hands and shifted me forward to grind against him.
The stiffness I felt against my inner thigh proved his words true.
"Maybe you don't need to," I said, suppressing an evil smile.
Morris cocked his head, questioning. I slithered off his lap, kneeling before
him. His wide-eyed look of surprise turned heated when I unzipped his pants,
enjoying how the fleshy meat of his cock bounced free.
"I couldn't exactly do this in the restaurant, unless I wanted to crawl under the
table." Placing one hand on his thigh to balance myself, I used my other hand to
palm his heavy length. I leaned forward, the thick head brushing my lips.
Darting my tongue out for a quick taste, I heard him grunt and lightly fist a
handful of my hair. The spongy texture and faint hint of soap triggered a
memory of the last time I'd done this. I wanted this time to last a lot longer.
I flicked a swirling pattern along the tip, not quite taking him into my mouth,
giving just enough to tease with the barest hint of suction. His fingers clenched
in my hair as he shifted his hips forward, wanting more. I pulled back and he
groaned. I was just getting started.
Curling my fingers around the base, I held him gently, not moving. I brushed
soft, open mouthed kisses up and down the shaft. Warm breath left my mouth
with every exhale, washing over his cock with each press of my lips. He rumbled
a growling noise deep in his chest. He was getting impatient.
Pursing my lips, I pressed them to his head and sucked lightly on the tip of his
cock. His hips bucked forward, forcing a few inches through my lips, the head
popping through and resting hot and heavy on my tongue. It made me squirm
with delight to hear him choke out a strangled moan.
Taking a deep breath in, I slowly bobbed my head down. Using my tongue, I
played with his length as he slid though my lips and into my mouth. He was big.
Very big. I took him down as far as I comfortably could, and even then I was still
barely halfway.
I used my free hand to grasp the other half of his shaft, making a firm circle
with my fingers. I bobbed back up, using my hand to follow my lips, rubbing
and caressing. Then I dipped back down and took him into my mouth again,
pursing my lips together to provide a light suction.
He hummed with pleasure and caressed my head in approval. I flushed,
pleased that I could make him feel so good.
"Your mouth is so fucking amazing," he murmured.
Emboldened by the encouraging words, I tried to slide down even further,
taking him deeper into my mouth. I stopped just before his cockhead touched the
back of my throat, not wanting to cough and ruin the moment. Taking a deep
breath through my nose, I slid back up, then down again, using my hand to
stroke the parts of him I couldn't take into my mouth.
"Shit— Natalie— I—"
I flushed with pleasure. He couldn't even speak in proper sentences and I
knew it was all my doing.
He gave a sharp tilt of his hips and I knew he was on the edge. I sucked
harder, taking him down further than I had ever gone before, and held myself
there. He began thrusting in and out of my mouth in a jerky rhythm. I continued
to suck and swirl and flick, trying to draw it out. I wanted to make him fall apart.
His breath came in short pants. His cocked twitched and throbbed. He
tightened his fist in my hair, almost painfully. Then he let out a grunt as liquid
heat filled my mouth. I swallowed him down, letting my tongue run lazy circles
along the underside of his shaft until his body went limp and he collapsed back
against his seat.
I crawled back into his lap and tucked my head under his chin. The tips of his
fingers brushed lightly against my cheek and lips.
"You're a goddess," he murmured.
I laughed softly. "Think you'll be able to make it back to your place now?"
He took my hand and placed it on his rapidly growing length, already
returning to hardness. "We may need to go for another round."
 Chapter 24


"So it's official?" Jen's hands were balled into fists and squished against her
cheeks in delight. "You and Morris?"
"It's official," I confirmed.
"Yes!" She fist pumped in the air and did a cute little dance around our
kitchen, ignoring the pot of boiling linguini for a moment. "Two rock star
boyfriends down, one to go!"
"Are you aiming for a rock star boyfriend, too?" I asked with a laugh, taking
the wooden spoon from her hand to continue stirring the pasta. It looked about
done, so I took a colander from the cupboard to strain the water.
Jen stopped dancing, her expression downcast. "Nah. Not really. What would
be the odds, right? I'll just live vicariously through you."
"Why me? Why not Ivy, too?"
She took the colander from my hand and hip checked me out of the way. One
too many kitchen incidents and I'd effectively been banned for life from cooking,
even with supervision. That included straining pasta for lunch. "You know she
doesn't say a word about her and Ren. She's too prim and proper about stuff like
that."
"And you think I'll spill all the juicy details?"
Jen paused in the middle of adding Alfredo sauce to the linguine. She looked
affronted. "Are you telling me you won't? Come on, you've got to give me the
goods."
I certainly wasn't about to tell her Morris had fingered me in the middle of a
fancy restaurant and I'd blown him in the back of a limo. "I'll throw you a few
tidbits now and then, how's that?"
"Good enough, I guess." She portioned out two plates of pasta, set them on the
table, and flopped onto a kitchen chair. "Someday my prince will come."
"And he'll be wearing leather pants and eyeliner, right?"
"Wouldn't have him any other way."
We were still shoveling pasta into our faces when her phone pinged. She
pulled it out, then scrunched up her face in disgust.
"Let me guess," I said. "More trashy rumors about me and Morris?"
"You're the number one subject when it comes to Feral Silence news."
"Why isn't anyone talking about Kell or Jayce's conquests anymore?"
"They're both taken."
"Since when?" I scoffed.
 "Ivy said she met their girlfriends."
Maybe rock stars did settle down. The image of me and Morris and a white
picket fence flashed through my head again. I forced it away. "I'll have to
organize a double date. Or, a quadruple date, I suppose."
"Great. I'll be the—" she paused, doing the math in her head, "— ninth
wheel."
"Who said you were invited?" I teased.
"Mean!"
"Guess you've just got to get yourself a boyfriend, too."
"I'm joking, mostly. I have way too much on my plate with school and work
and internships. I'm graduating next year. I've got to buckle down, put my nose
to the grindstone, and other such clichés."
"You'll find an awesome job after we graduate. You're like a super genius
when it comes to composing music."
Jen's face went red. "Stop exaggerating." She always got embarrassed
whenever someone told her how good she was, despite it being the truth. While
Ivy and I were confident in our musical talents, Jen always worried she was
never good enough. She took our now empty plates and put them in the
dishwasher, her hair covering her flushed cheeks.
"So what's the next step?" she asked, changing the subject. "Marriage?
Babies?"
"No!" I protested. "Don't get ahead of yourself." Exactly what I'd been telling
myself for weeks. "We only just decided to be in a real relationship. Who knows
if it will even last."
"How depressing. You should be jumping for joy and planning your wedding
colors. I suggest teal and eggshell white."
"I'll settle for planning our next date. He said he wants to take me to a concert
with backstage passes."
Her eyes lit up. "Having a rock star boyfriend is so awesome. Do you know
which concert?"
"Darkest Days, I think."
Jen made a pained sound and mock-glared at me. "I may have to stick a knife
in your chest out of jealousy. Sleep with one eye open, Nat."
"No need to be jealous. You've met Noah and The Twins just like I have," I
said, referring to the brief introduction we'd had to Noah Hart, Darkest Days'
lead singer, and their twin guitarists. I hadn't told her about meeting their bassist
and drummer. She really would have killed me then.
"We only saw them for two seconds. Noah didn't even look in my direction."
Her phone buzzed again, but she didn't bother pulling it out. "It's probably just
more gossip. I don't like reading about my best friend like that. I've got better
things to do with my time."
"Speaking of, I'm heading over to the youth center for another rock band
lesson. I promised Jessie I would go a bit early. She wanted to talk to me about
something."
"How are those lessons coming along?"
"Surprisingly well. The kids who've stuck with it are actually pretty talented. I
think we'll be able to put on a real rock show at the end of the summer."
"You're a miracle worker." She shook her head in wonder. "I would never have
the patience to wrangle a handful of restless, hormonal tweens."
"It helps they've got a bit of hero worship going on. Morris keeps them in
check. No one wants to act like a brat around their idol."
I left the kitchen and went to my room to get ready before I could be drawn
into a conversation about Morris and kids.
It was something I'd been thinking about a lot. Morris and me, and our future.
Was there a real future to be had with a rock star celebrity? With fans, and the
media, and touring all the time, it would be tough. Morris was worth it, though.
What started out as a fangirl crush had evolved into something more. From the
moment he'd offered to take me out for coffee and held out his arm to escort me
— that moment when I'd first seen a spark of interest in his eyes — I'd felt it.
There was something between us. Something drawing us together.
His intensity on stage, tempered by his quiet demeanor in person, was what
initially intrigued me. Finding out he actually had a quick, playful wit only
added to my interest. His insistence on helping me when I couldn't ask for help
from anyone, only made my feelings for him grow.
He was caring. Kind. Fiercely protective.
The fact that Morris returned my feelings, that he found my exuberance
amusing, not annoying, was simply amazing. I knew my personality type wasn't
for everyone.
I looked into the full length mirror hanging off the back of my bedroom door,
examining myself. Trying to see myself through his eyes. I'd never presume to
call myself sophisticated, but I supposed my oval shaped face, arched eyebrows,
and straight posture could be considered elegant. Once I opened my mouth,
however…
I shook my head, chasing those negative thoughts away. Morris liked me
when I was chattering and excitable. He'd said so himself on multiple occasions.
He liked being around people with that kind of energy.
People like Kell and Harper.
A sour ball of jealousy solidified in my gut. I ruthlessly shoved it away. I
wasn't going to let the memory of some other girl ruin what Morris and I had.
He'd told me he wanted a real relationship with me. No more faking. This was
for real.
Still, I knew I'd never be able to stop worrying until I asked Morris to tell me
more about her. Until I found out the whole story. Even though I knew it wasn't a
competition, I needed to know what kind of person Harper was. I needed to
know what she meant to Morris.
I resolved to ask him the next time we were alone together, if only to assuage
my own fears and doubts. I couldn't let jealousy eat away at me forever.
I grabbed my bag and said bye to Jen, turning my thoughts to Jessie. I
wondered why she wanted to meet with me. I'd asked her if she wouldn't mind
writing a letter of recommendation for when I applied to teacher's college. She
might have questions about it.
As I took the elevator to the ground floor, a tingle of anticipation hit me.
Maybe Morris would be waiting for me again. He'd taken to picking me up at my
apartment, always pulling into the driveway the second I stepped out the door. I
was leaving early today, though, so I didn't expect it. I'd just have to take public
transit, like I had before I met him.
Although I knew better, I still felt a small drop of disappointment when I
found the front driveway of my apartment building empty. I could have texted
Morris and let him know I was going early.
I couldn't wallow, though. I just resigned myself to taking the bus. After a
forty-five-minute ride I got off a few blocks away from Impact. I had just turned
a corner when a voice spoke from behind me, causing me a jump.
"Natalie."
The voice was familiar. So familiar. Chills ran down my back. Dread filled my
chest. I knew who it was going to be before I even turned around.
"Nat. It's good to see you again."
Kevin.
 Chapter 25


I whirled around to find my stalker only a few feet away. He stood next to a car
parked on the side of the street, his hands shaking at his sides. He must have
been waiting for me outside the youth center. My heart hammered beneath my
ribcage. My stomach rebelled, tumbling over and making me sick with fear.
"What are you doing here?" I choked out. "How did you find me?"
He looked terrible. Worse than the last time I'd seen him. His eyes were wide,
manic, and bloodshot, his hair sticking out in all directions, untamed like he
hadn't combed it for days. "I needed to see you."
"You shouldn't be here." I put on my fiercest face, not wanting to show him
how scared I was. "I don't want you near me. Go away."
He tilted his head, looking almost confused. "I thought you'd be happy to see
me."
I tried not to laugh hysterically. "Why the hell would I want to see you? I have
a restraining order against you! You're not supposed to come anywhere near me."
He stepped closer. I backed away slowly, not wanting to provoke him. "I know
you don't really mean that."
"The hell I don't. Go. Away," I said through gritted teeth.
From the wild look in his eyes, I knew he wouldn't listen. "But we're meant to
be together."
"Fuck you," I spat, holding my purse in front of my chest, as if it could protect
me from him. "We're never going to be together. Ever." Tears sprang to my eyes
as I shouted. "I hate you! I want you out of my life. I'm going to send you back
to jail and this time you're going to stay there."
A wavering smile crossed his lips. That smile combined with the crazed look
in his eyes made me shudder.
"We'd be so good together," he crooned softly, completely disregarding
everything I'd just said. He took a few more steps toward me, reaching out. I
scrambled back. "I'd be so good to you. I'd take care of you. I'd treat you like a
princess. Come with me and I'll show you." He gestured to his car.
"You're insane if you think that's ever going to happen."
"Just give me a chance."
I contemplated making a run for the youth center, hoping someone there
would be able to help me. But if I didn't run fast enough and Kevin caught up to
me, he would only be more pissed off. Even if I did make it, he would simply
disappear again and just wait to ambush me again later when I was alone.
 I knew he was never going to give up. The only thing I could do was send him
away again. I needed proof he violated his restraining order.
I'd already had my phone in one hand when I got off the bus — thank you
internet-addiction — so all I had to do was thumb the right button and turn my
voice recorder app on. I just had to keep him talking.
"Is that what you want? You want a chance? Is that why you sabotaged all my
relationships?"
Nostrils flaring, his eyes narrowed in fury. "I had to get them out of the way
for us to be together."
"Is that why you trashed Tom's apartment? Is that why you framed Pete for
stealing?"
His face twisted, ugly and mean. "They're lucky I didn't do worse."
"So you admit it?"
"I told you. We belong together. We're meant to be. It's fate. No one else is
allowed to have you. If I have to scare them off, I will. If I have to hurt them, I
will."
My lungs froze, terrified of what would happen if Kevin managed to get to
Morris.
"I know you can feel this thing between us. I know you feel the same
connection I do."
I shouldn't have provoked him but I couldn't help the words that came
tumbling out of my mouth.
"I don't feel anything for you but disgust. We only went on a few dates! There
was never anything between us, and there never will be. You're just sad and
pathetic. I want you leave me and Morris alone or I'll have you thrown back in
jail."
"You and Morris?" That crazy look returned to his eyes, burning with
jealously. "I thought my warning would be enough. Maybe I need to do
something more drastic to keep him away from you."
"Don't you dare go near him!"
Kevin growled and lunged for me. I pulled away, but not fast enough as he
managed to take a firm hold of my wrist. I shouted and kicked, trying to get him
off but he grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking me toward his car. Adrenaline
shot through my entire system as I fought against him. Yelling and screaming, I
scratched at him with the long nails of my left hand while punching him with my
right. I wasn't about to let him kidnap me without a fight.
But I couldn't get him to let go. He was too strong. Kevin threw open the
passenger door of his car and began shoving me inside the vehicle. My heartbeat
sped up to such a rapid pace I feared I might have a heart attack out of sheer
fright. He was beyond crazy. If he managed to get me into that car…
Then his grip loosened and I stumbled forward, suddenly free of his hold. I
steadied myself against the car door before I could fall and whirled around.
Kevin was on the ground. His nose was bloody. Morris crouched over him,
one fist cocked back to throw another punch, the other clenched in his shirt,
pulling him up.
I was in shock for a moment. I couldn't do anything but watch as Morris let
loose and landed another few punches, snapping Kevin's head back, his neck
limp.
After a few seconds I broke out of my daze and started forward with a jolt.
Then I stopped.
I watched silently as Morris's fists repeatedly slammed into Kevin's face. The
sick sound of flesh hitting flesh, of bone hitting bone, was almost… cathartic.
Morris was beating the hell out of Kevin.
And some small part of me enjoyed it.
Morris growled and swore under his breath, calling Kevin all sorts of vile
names. Kevin let out a whimper and coughed up blood. Some sense came back
to me.
"Wait," I said. "Stop."
Morris paused with his fist in the air and turned to me, eyes blazing with fury.
I spoke in a calm voice, trying to reassure him. "I'm okay. He didn't hurt me. If
you keep on going you're going to kill him."
"Good," Morris grunted, tightening his fist in Kevin's shirt.
"I don't want you to get in trouble." I knelt down and placed my hand over his,
bloody and cut up. "We'll call the police and have them deal with him. Okay?"
Morris met my eyes, staring into them for several long moments, then lowered
his fist, seeming to calm down. He let go of Kevin, who fell back to the ground
nearly unconscious, and cupped my cheek with his clean hand. "You sure you're
okay?"
"I'm fine."
Morris scowled, looking unconvinced.
"Scared," I amended, "and a little shaken up, but for the most part I'm fine.
How did you get here?"
"Jess told me you were going to be at the center early. I was too late to pick
you up. Wanted to meet you at the door. Heard screaming from down the street.
Didn't know it was you until I got closer." The rage returned to his eyes. "Can't
believe that fucker laid his hands on you."
"I promise you, I'm okay. Especially now that you're here," I added.
Morris pulled me in and hugged me to his chest, nearly squishing the life out
of me.
I didn't protest, just nestled down into his embrace. With the comfort of his
strong arms and broad, wide chest, I felt more safe, protected, and loved than I
had in a very long time.
 Chapter 26


When the police and ambulance showed up they nearly arrested Morris. One
bleeding man lying unconscious on the sidewalk and one larger man with a
scowl and bloody fists didn't exactly look good.
I intervened and explained Morris had stopped me from being kidnapped, that
Kevin had been stalking me. Things went much more smoothly after that.
The police took our statements and politely but firmly insisted we show up at
the police station the next day to answer their questions more thoroughly. With
proof that Kevin had violated the restraining order he'd be sent back to jail, and
with the added charges of stalking, attempted kidnapping, assault and all the
other crimes he'd confessed to, the police assured me he'd be there for a long
time.
"You should also get that checked out," one of the officers told Morris,
nodding at his still-bloody hand.
"I think you may have broken something," I agreed, examining his knuckles
with a soft touch.
Morris nodded silently but as soon as the ambulance sped away with an
unconscious Kevin in the back, police officers following, he shrugged off my
concern.
"It's barely a scratch. I've had worse."
"Let's at least get you cleaned up and bandaged."
I ushered him down the street to the youth center, Morris protesting the whole
way that he was fine. I hoped to find a first aid kit in one of the washrooms and
patch him up discreetly before anyone saw us.
Of course, as always happened, a rush of kids surrounded us, wide-eyed and
full of questions.
"Natalie! What happened to Morris?"
"Are you guys okay?"
"Did Morris get into a fist fight?"
"Did somebody die?!"
"Cool it, guys," Morris said in his usual steady tone. "Just had a little accident,
that's all. No one died," he added, giving Kaylee a pointed stare.
"Can you still play the drums?" she blurted out in a panic. "'Cause if you hurt
your hands and couldn't play the drums any more then who will teach me how to
play? I still suck, I'm totally not good enough yet to perform yet!"
"Simmer down, munchkin. It looks worse than it is." Morris held out his hand
and flexed his fingers, wincing. "But I may be out of commission for a few days.
Let's cancel today's lesson, all right?"
Kaylee's crestfallen look was heartbreaking, but she agreed Morris should take
a few days to heal.
When the kids dispersed I hooked my arm around his. "Let's go find you a
first aid kit."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine," I insisted, pulling him down the hall to the nearest
washroom. Luckily I found a small first aid kit in a cupboard underneath the
sink. I pulled it out and riffled through the contents. "Your knuckles are all
messed up and bleeding. I need to clean out the cuts, put some salve on them,
and bandage them up."
"You don't have to fuss over me."
"Sit." I pointed to the closed toilet seat.
"I'll just wash my hands and be good to go," he said, but he followed my
direction and sat anyway.
"You're allowed to fuss over me but I'm not allowed to fuss over you? How is
that fair?" After I pulled out an alcohol-soaked pad of gauze, I took his hand
gingerly and began cleaning out the cuts. "This may hurt," I warned.
But of course he didn't even flinch. Instead, his lips twitched upwards as if he
were amused.
"This is familiar."
"How so?"
"Harper used to patch me up after fights all the time."
My throat closed up upon hearing that name. All my doubts and insecurities
came back in full force. I let out a small cough and tried to recover.
"I'm surprised you let someone help you," I said lightly.
"No one said no to Jason Harper."
I blinked and looked up at Morris, forgetting about the gauze and his hurt
knuckles. "Jason?"
"His first name," he clarified. "Everyone just called him Harper."
My mind raced, thinking back to all the things he'd told me about his best
friend. They relied on each other. Took care of each other. One of the few people
he cared about in the entire world.
A guy? Morris's best friend was a guy?
"I thought—" I cut myself off and looked back down, going back to wiping
away the blood.
"Thought what?"
I ran through every conversation I'd ever had with Morris at light speed, trying
to make sense of it all, trying to put all the puzzle pieces into place. "Nothing.
It's stupid."
"I'm sure it's not stupid. What were you thinking? Tell me."
I cringed inwardly. "I thought he was a girl."
He looked confused. "Harper? Why would you think that?"
I flushed. "I saw a picture of your old high school band on the fridge. There
was a girl in the photo."
Morris went still, then let out a deep breath. "Yeah. Cerise. Harper's
girlfriend."
"Harper's girlfriend?"
"They'd been together forever. They were so in love they were sickening. Like
they were soulmates. We all knew they were going to get married. Then…"
My heart sank. "Then Harper was killed."
"Cerise was devastated. She couldn't handle it. The love of her life had been
ripped away from her. Every time she looked at me, I could tell she was
reminded of him. She couldn't stand to be around me. So I left. I haven't seen her
in years. Not since…"
I took a moment to process everything.
There was no childhood sweetheart. He'd never been in love with another girl
from his youth. I wasn't in competition with some long lost love.
The realization hit me like a tsunami. I was nearly breathless with relief,
almost dizzy.
"What's wrong? Natalie?"
"Nothing," I croaked. "I just… I thought…" I flushed, not wanting to confess
I'd been jealous of a girl who didn't exist. "I just thought Harper was a girl. That
maybe…"
A look of amusement laced with worry crossed his face. "Were you jealous?"
"No!"
"I think you were."
I ducked my head. "Maybe a little. Every time you talked about how much
you cared about your best friend, about how much Harper was like me, I
thought…"
Morris crushed me to his chest, the gauze and bandages long forgotten. "You
thought I was comparing you to some other girl?"
I buried my face in his t-shirt, hiding my burning cheeks. "I was worried you
only liked me because I reminded you of her. That you were only protecting me
out of guilt about what happened."
"Are you still doubting how I feel about you?"
I shook my head back and forth violently. "I don't want to be an insecure
girlfriend."
He pulled away and gave me a thoughtful look. An almost chagrined
expression crossed his face. "I have a confession to make." Morris pulled out his
phone, tapped a few times, then turned it around to show me the screen. "This is
embarrassing, but I think it will help explain some things."
On the screen was a video. A video of me. The fan video I'd made where I
professed my love for Feral Silence.
"Why are you showing me this?" I asked as mortification washed over me.
"From the moment I first saw you, I fell for you."
I blinked. "What?"
"I've watched that video about a hundred times. You were so passionate. So
alive. Your personality just shined through." He huffed out a self-conscious
chuckle. "It probably sounds stupid, but as soon as I heard your laugh, I knew I
had to meet you."
"Are you serious?" I asked, incredulous.
"Dead serious, believe me. The guys wouldn't stop giving me shit over it."
I furrowed my brows, confused and still not convinced a famous, rich,
gorgeous rock star had had a crush on me the same way I'd had a crush on him.
"Then why didn't you pick me to win the VIP meet and greet tickets?"
The look he gave me pierced me to the core. "I didn't want us to meet that
way. You don't want to remind me you're a fan, but I don't want to remind you
I'm a rock star. I just want to be a normal guy in your eyes."
"Um." I cast my eyes downwards. "I suppose I have a confession to make,
too." I pulled out my own phone and tapped to bring up the selfie of me and
Morris backstage at that concert. Up until a few months ago it had been my most
prized possession. "I wasn't just a fan of Feral Silence."
He quirked a smile. "Oh really?"
"I was sort of obsessed with you," I blurted out. "But I didn't want you
thinking I was some creepy fangirl groupie so I kept trying to act normal around
you but it never worked because you're so awesome, and then I realized there's
so much more to you than what people see on stage and—"
My words were cut off sharply as he pulled me close and kissed me, stopping
my rambling the best way he knew how.
 Chapter 27


"I think I'm going to puke," I confessed quietly to Morris.
"Stage fright?" His voice held a tinge of amusement.
As Jessie helped the kids set up their instruments on the small stage, I
squirmed at the unfamiliar feeling washing over me. Performance anxiety. I
hadn't felt that in a long time, not since I was a kid and performing my first few
recitals. Whatever stage fright I might have had when I was younger had been
stamped out of me by the hundreds of performances I'd held throughout my high
school and college years.
"Is stage fright-by-proxy a thing?" I asked. "'Cause I think I'm experiencing it
right now."
"It'll be fine. The kids spent the entire summer getting ready. They all have."
Our band of budding rock stars hadn't been the only ones working hard this
summer. The band, who had taken to calling themselves Sudden Impact, had
managed to get others involved in this mini-concert. Once they learned their
instruments enough to actually rock out, they'd developed themselves a fan club.
The younger kids at the youth center had taken to peeking their little faces into
our music room whenever we had rehearsals. One brave girl had asked if there
was anything they could do to be part of the band.
"I can be a backup singer!" she'd piped up.
Morris gently dissuaded her dreams of stardom, but in the end we found
something for them to do. That was how a small gymnasium had been turned
into a rock 'n roll concert hall, complete with silvery streamers hanging from
every surface, lights covered with red and blue cellophane for mood lighting,
and band posters taped to every wall.
It still didn't resemble any rock concert I'd been to, but eight-year-olds
wouldn't know the difference, and besides, they'd had a blast decorating.
Those kids were now running around shrieking in anticipation for the show to
start as the "concert hall" rapidly filled with people. A lot more people than I'd
expected had shown up.
"It's not so much their abilities I'm doubting," I told Morris. "I'm just worried
they'll get on stage, see an audience for the first time, and freeze."
I knew Micah, who'd been practicing keyboard every spare minute of the day,
was probably going to do well on stage. He was so calm and steady, I doubted he
would let nerves get the best of him. The rest though, including Morris's tiny
spitfire drummer Kaylee, I wasn't so sure about.
 "It's just us, friends, and family," Morris reminded me.
"Oh my god!" One of the young moms standing a few feet away from me
gasped. "Is that Jayce Evans?"
When I turned to look, sure enough, Jayce was walking through the doors
with the same young woman I'd seen at the launch party dressed in a cute pencil
skirt and blouse. Kell walked in next, tugging along a pretty girl in a sundress,
wearing an eager expression on her face.
"Just friends and family?" I gave Morris the side-eye.
"Kell insisted on coming. Wanted to see what I'd been up to all summer. Said
it was going to be a group outing."
"I hope the kids don't freak out when they realize they'll be playing in front of
real rock stars."
"I told the guys to stay inconspicuous."
As if Jayce, with features so perfectly sculpted it was as if the gods
themselves had held a chisel, or Kell, with his brilliant grin and bouncy,
charming nature, could ever be inconspicuous. Even those who didn't recognize
them were brought to a standstill.
Groups of parents and older siblings whispered to themselves as the two of
them made their way over with their girlfriends in tow. Ren and Ivy walked in
last, giving me friendly waves in greeting.
"Gonna head over to the stage," Morris said. "Kids look nervous. You keep the
guys out of trouble. And by guys I mean Kell."
I made a face at being designated Kell's babysitter, as hero worship was now
at the bottom of the list of things I felt about Kell Pierce.
"Natalie!" the lead singer of Feral Silence ran up and practically smothered
me with his hug. For once, he didn't mess with my hair. After letting me go, he
hooked his arm around his girlfriend's waist with a proud grin. "I want you to
meet Emily. As soon as I told her about what you and Morris had been doing,
she couldn't wait to see the kids perform."
"Really?" I was surprised anyone aside from the parents would be interested.
Emily nodded enthusiastically, her straight auburn-dyed hair whipping
everywhere. "Definitely! I write articles for an online magazine. I thought a
piece about passing on a love of music to the younger generation, getting them
involved in the industry, would be well received."
"Emily owns her own magazine," Kell corrected with a smug tilt of his chin.
"She's an amazing, brilliant, smart, talented businesswoman."
The girl flushed, looking both embarrassed and pleased at the same time.
"Kell likes to brag."
He wrapped his other arm around her waist and swung her from side to side.
"Of course I want to brag about my awesome, gorgeous, smart, and sexy
girlfriend. Who is also lovely and modest and talented in more ways than just—"
Emily elbowed him in the ribs. "Stop."
To my surprise, he actually did, setting her down and shutting up. This girl did
have secret talents if she could make Kell obey like that.
"Sorry I didn't tell you we were coming," Ivy said apologetically. She was
hand in hand with Ren, who was as dressed down as he usually got in his black
slacks and a white collared shirt, no skinny tie in sight.
"I hope you don't mind us showing up out of the blue like this," Jayce said,
smacking Kell on the shoulder. "This one wouldn't stop whining about wanting
to see Morris's protégés."
"Since when do you even like kids?" the girl in the pencil skirt at Jayce's side
asked.
Kell looked affronted. "I like kids! Me and Emily are going to have a dozen of
them." He looked at his girlfriend, whose eyes had bugged out of her head.
"Aren't we?"
Emily coughed violently, sputtering out words of protest.
"I think you're supposed to talk about these things first, Kell." The girl turned
to me and stuck out her hand in greeting. "Hi, I'm Ailey. I work with the band.
You're Natalie, Ivy's roommate?"
As soon as I heard her name, it clicked. "You're Audio Ailey?!" I exclaimed,
causing heads to swerve toward me. Audio Ailey, a famous online indie music
reviewer, had almost as big a fan base as most rock bands herself. "Sorry! It's
just, I've been a fan of yours forever and when everyone found out you'd been
hired to work with the band, it was like a dream come true because if one Feral
Silence fan could get their dream job, maybe we all could."
Ailey laughed. "I thought it was a dream job at first. After wrangling this crew
around for a while, the shine has worn off. But there are perks." She looked up
lovingly at Jayce, who trailed a finger along her inner arm. Aside from that small
touch, they kept a respectful distance.
"And you're… dating Jayce?" I asked carefully. They both nodded silently,
casting furtive glances over their shoulders. "I had no idea. How are you
managing to keep that a secret?"
"Very carefully," Ailey replied. "Luckily I have control over every piece of
official media that gets released to the public. All we need to watch out for is
paparazzi."
"It's bad enough we both have fans that get jealous we're working together. If
they found out we were dating, god help us." Jayce gave a rueful smile.
"I'm sure you can sympathize," Ailey said. "You had the same thing happen
with Morris."
"I did, but we weren't dating. Well, we weren't at the time."
"But you are now?" Emily pounced like a tiger, her eye shining. "You and
Morris? You're together?"
I nodded silently, not sure I could keep myself from turning into a squealing
babbling mess if I opened my mouth and confirmed I was dating famous,
gorgeous, insanely talented rock star god Morris Edwards.
"You know what this means." Emily looked to Ailey and Ivy. They all cheered
in one voice, "Girls' Night!"
Before I could ask what Girls' Night was, although I assumed it involved a
copious amount of drinking, screeching microphone feedback sounded through
the room. Morris stood at the front of the stage, the kids all set up in their places
behind him. I was pleased to see they all had bright smiles on their faces, no hint
of nerves. Morris must have given them a great pep talk.
"Thanks for coming out," Morris spoke into the mic, his quiet voice amplified
by the speakers we'd set up. "You're in for a real treat. We've got up and coming
rock group Sudden Impact here tonight. They've been practicing hard to put on a
great show for you, so let's give them some applause."
The audience of moms, dads, siblings, and friends clapped and cheered.
Morris walked off stage, giving Kaylee a fist bump on his way down.
"Hello everyone we are Sudden Impact and we are here to melt your faces off
with rock!" Anya shouted into the microphone in one breath. She nodded to
Kaylee, who nodded back. The drummer stomped on the kick drum, hit the
cymbals, and the band was off.
A warm sense of pride filled my chest as the kids rocked their hearts out.
Anya's endurance practice had paid off, as she was able to sing without sounding
out of breath. Micah's technique was outstanding, and I wondered if he might
have a future in music. Kaylee pounded away furiously, head banging to the beat
just like I'd seen Morris do on stage. The two kids Jessie taught, Zain and
Matthew, had choreographed a little routine where they leaned back to back as
they wailed on their guitar and bass respectively.
"The kids are good," Kell said with a whistle of appreciation. "You two
worked wonders."
"A lot of them dropped out early on if they couldn't hack it," I confessed.
"This group already had a natural talent."
"Don't sell yourself short," Emily said. "Working with kids is tough, especially
tweens and teens. You must be a great teacher."
"I hope so," I said fervently.
A pat on the back from behind started me until Jessie's beaming face popped
over my shoulder. "No hoping about it! You're an awesome teacher, and the
director of Impact agrees."
"I didn't think he even knew my name."
"I made sure he did." Jessie pointed to the other side of the room where the
Executive Director of The Impact Center was chatting with a group of parents,
gesturing to the kids on stage. He noticed Jessie's pointing and gave us a friendly
nod before going back to the parents. "In fact, he thinks you're such an awesome
teacher, he has an offer for you."
"Offer?"
"We just got a grant for an official music program year-round," she said.
"Enough funding to hire a part time music teacher."
Jessie's grin clued me in.
"Are you saying…?"
"Time to quit your job selling shoes." Morris pulled me into a surprise hug
from behind. "You're officially a teacher now."
"Did you know about this?" I asked, craning my head around to look up at
him wide-eyed.
"When I heard about the grant, I had a feeling they'd choose you."
"I've got a real teaching job?" I asked, unable to believe it.
"Part time," Jessie clarified, "but yeah, you're officially a music teacher." She
grinned at me. "Better start writing up lesson plans. School starts soon!"
The others in the group all congratulated me with slaps on the back and grins.
Emily and Ailey looked impressed, which I thought funny considering they were
both accomplished in their own fields.
I threw my arms around both Morris and Jessie. "You guys are amazing!
Thank you so much."
"No need to thank us," Jessie said, squeezing back. "You're the one who's
awesome. You got the job on your own merits. You've got the endless patience
and nonstop energy to keep up with the kids, plus you're wicked talented in
music. Not many people have that combination."
"Morris does," I pointed out.
"Yes, but Morris has to record music and practice and go on tour all the time,"
Jessie pointed out. "In fact, aren't you guys on tour again this year?"
"We've got a few coming up," Jayce confirmed. "Most of them are short solo
tours, but we're also doing this huge music festival circuit with a bunch of other
bands in late spring."
"It's going to be so. Kick. Ass," Kell said fervently, punctuating each word
with a fist in the air. "It's gonna be a non-stop party."
"Can't wait," Ailey said with a world-weary groan.
 "Natalie should come!" Kell exclaimed. "All the other girls are. Ailey's doing
her standard PR and Emily is covering the tour for her magazine."
"Ivy, too?" I asked, looking in her direction.
"Ren and I will be performing our song together on stage for one of their
slower sets," she told me. "I just found out, that's why I haven't mentioned it."
"Natalie should come, too," Kell insisted. "It's not until spring, you guys will
already be graduated."
"But I'm not in PR or playing on stage or anything. What would I be doing?"
"We'll find something," Kell said dismissively with a wave of his hand. "We
can't make Morris go on tour for weeks without his girl." Kell grinned and got in
Morris's face. "You'd just end up whacking off to that video of hers over and
over again like you used to."
I flushed as Morris tried to plant his hand over Kell's face to shove him away,
but Kell just danced off with a laugh.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw a latecomer walk into the room. She was
tall, with dark red hair, clearly dyed an unnatural shade, and wore black combat
boots with a short leather kilted skirt.
Anxiety kicked into my system again, but this time it had nothing to do with
stage fright-by-proxy. I recognized this woman.
"Excuse me for a minute," I said to the group. Luckily Morris's attention was
on Kell and his effusive efforts to convince the guys to get matching tattoos to
commemorate their first festival tour.
I slipped away quietly and headed over to the young woman who looked to be
around my age, or perhaps a few years older. She glanced around nervously,
seeming just as uncomfortable as I was beginning to feel.
She saw me approaching and appeared to tense up even further. "Natalie?"
"Yes, that's me. And you're…?"
She nodded before I finished. We both gave each other awkward smiles for a
brief moment before speaking at once.
"I'm sorry to—"
"I hope you don't mind me—"
We both laughed self-consciously.
"You go first," she said.
"I'm sorry I contacted you out of the blue," I said. "I know it must be hard for
you."
"I was going to say, I hope you don't mind me just showing up like this."
"I wouldn't have invited you otherwise."
She looked around furtively. "Is he…?"
"He's right over there."
 She looked behind me and went rigid, a pained look on her face. Then she
relaxed, her features softening. "It's been a long time, but he hasn't changed."
"You have." I flushed. "Sorry. I've just seen pictures…"
"It's okay. After everything that happened—" she looked down, avoiding my
eyes, "—I guess I just wanted to reinvent myself."
"That's understandable." I paused for a moment. "Do you want me to go get
him?"
"Would you mind?"
I left her near the entrance, twisting her hands together nervously.
"Morris, can you come here for a second?"
He pulled his attention away from Kell, who had found a pen and was
drawing his idea for matching tattoos on his lower abdomen — and wow, those
were some toned abs — while Emily held his shirt out of the way.
"What's up?"
"I've got someone I want you to meet."
He looked intrigued and followed me. I'm sure it took him a few seconds to
realize who it was. Once he did, he stopped cold.
The woman offered him a wavering smile. "Hi Morris."
"Cerise?" His voice was strangled.
"It's good to see you," said Cerise, lead singer of his high school band, past
lover of his late best friend, and the one girl who could ease the guilt he'd carried
for years.
 Chapter 28


Morris looked at Cerise, stunned.
"It's been a long time," she continued, not waiting for Morris to respond. "I'm
glad to see you're doing well."
He scanned her up and down, no doubt taking in the changes. She looked
much different than the sweet-faced girl I'd seen in that photo. In fact, she
seemed pretty rock and roll.
"You look good, too," Morris finally managed to speak.
They stared at each other silently for a few moments. Then Cerise stepped
forward and wrapped her arms around Morris's neck. Morris buried his head in
her shoulder.
"I'm so sorry," I heard him whisper.
"No," she whispered back. "I'm sorry. I never meant to make you feel guilty. It
wasn't your fault."
I began to move away, to give them some privacy, when Morris reached out
for my arm, stopping me. They pulled away from each other, eyes both
glistening with unshed tears.
"Was Natalie the one who invited you?" he asked her.
"Yes. Are you two…?"
"She's my girlfriend," he confirmed with a nod.
"You're lucky to have her."
"I know," Morris said, squeezing my hand.
Cerise looked around the room, taking in all the people and the kids playing
on stage. "I guess I don't need to ask what you've been up to all these years.
You're the talented drummer of hit rock band Feral Silence, yet you've still
managed to find the time to take care of a bunch of kids." She shook her head
with a laugh. "You really haven't changed."
"What about you?" Morris asked, looking her up and down again.
She ran a self-conscious hand through her long, dark, cherry-red hair. "I
formed my own band, actually."
"I'm not surprised. You always were an amazing singer."
"We're not anywhere close to being famous. Not like Feral Silence. But we're
beginning to make some waves in the indie scene."
"What's the band's name?" I asked.
She gave an almost ironic smirk. "Cherry Lips."
Morris chuckled. "Of course you named your band after yourself."
 "Are you saying I'm self centered?" She arched her eyebrow.
Morris leaned in to fake-whisper in my ear. "If anyone can rival Kell's ego, it's
Cerise."
"It's not ego if it's true," she shot back, then turned to me. "Cerise is French for
cherry," she explained with a grin.
I returned her grin. I liked this girl. Whatever pain she must have been feeling
at seeing Morris again was well hidden. I'd braced myself for tears or
recriminations. If it weren't for the slightly strained look in her eyes, I might
have thought this was a joyful reunion between old friends.
"I guess you're probably busy with this event," Cerise said, "But do you think
we could go get coffee sometime and catch up?"
"I'd love that."
"Yo, Morris, who's the hot chick?" Kell called out. Emily stuck another elbow
in his gut and he pretended to double over in pain.
"Is that Kell Pierce?" Cerise whispered, sounding awed.
"The egomaniac himself," Morris snorted.
"Do you think you could introduce me?" she asked tentatively.
"Is that hero worship I hear?"
"He's an amazing singer." She gave a not-so-casual shrug. "His range is
incredible."
"You mean his raging narcissism is incredible."
She shot Morris a cheeky grin. "I can handle him."
"I don't doubt it." He got a thoughtful look on his face. "You should talk to
Ailey and Emily. They're both on the non-music side of things, working in
promotions and journalism. I'm sure they would have some great ideas to get
your band more attention."
Her eyes went wide. "That would be amazing."
The three of us headed back to the group, with Cerise hanging a few feet
behind. For all that she seemed confident, there was a hesitance in her steps.
Morris waited until she caught up to us and urged her forward with a hand on
her shoulder. "Guys, I'd like to introduce you to my friend Cerise."
Kell's eyes went wide and he opened his mouth as if to blurt out something,
then snapped his jaw shut. An almost gleefully devilish sort of look crossed his
face.
"Cerise," he hummed, walking a full circle around her like a tiger stalking
prey. "How very nice to meet you. And how do you know Morris?"
"We used to be in a band together in high school," she said, following his path
with her eyes. She was much more calm and composed than I would have been
in her situation.
 "Is that right?" Kell didn't look surprised in the slightest. I wondered how
much he already knew about Morris's past.
"Cerise is the lead singer of Cherry Lips," Morris continued.
Emily's eyes lit up. "I've heard of you. You just played a show at that new
club, Harmony, right? Totally brought the house down."
"If you mean last week, yeah, that was us." The curl of her lips told me Cerise
was more than pleased to hear the compliment, but unlike Kell she didn't boast
any further. If she had a raging ego, at least she had control over it.
"I was thinking of writing a piece about some up and coming indie bands. You
interested in being a part of it?"
"Definitely!"
Emily took Cerise by the arm and began to lead her away from the group.
"How about we schedule a time…"
"You've never talked about a friend named Cerise before," Ren told Morris
with a knowing smile once she was out of hearing distance. "Maybe you'd like to
talk about your high school band some time? I'd love to hear about it."
Morris gave him a hesitant look.
"We'll make sure there's lots of drinking involved first," Ren added, no doubt
sensing there was more to this story than a simple meeting of old friends.
The tension in Morris's forehead eased, a small relieved smile playing on his
lips. "Sure. It'd be nice to talk about it with you guys some time."
"Seems like Natalie already knew all about it," Kell smirked.
Jayce and Ren both mock-punched him in the ribs and he faked a wince,
rubbing at his sides.
"Natalie, why don't the two of us go check on the kids?" Morris asked.
"Um. Sure," I said nervously, worried he was upset with me. He put an arm
around my waist as we headed to the stage.
"I'm sorry," I blurted out as soon as we were alone. "I know I shouldn't have
poked my nose in your business, but you still seemed so torn up about what had
happened, and I hate to see you in pain, and I thought—"
"It's all right," he interrupted. "I'm not mad. I should actually be thanking you.
I'd been thinking of looking up Cerise for a while, but… I was worried whether
or not she would even want to see me." Morris gave me an inquisitive look.
"How did you find her, anyway?"
I heaved a small sigh of relief, glad I hadn't ruined things between us with my
meddling. I'd only wanted to help him.
"I asked Jessie to ask the Executive Director. He's been here since the
beginning, and since you and her used to go here, I figured he would know about
her. Turns out she's a donor. She's even got her own plaque on the donor wall."
 "I never noticed."
"They call her every year to solicit donations, so Jessie had her phone number.
We probably broke some kind of privacy rules, actually…" I trailed off,
chagrinned.
"It all worked out in the end." He pulled me into his arms for a quick hug
before letting go, aware of all the parents and kids surrounding us. He took my
hand in his, instead.
"It's funny," I mused as we laced our fingers together. "Ever since I met you, I
kept on telling myself that it all worked out in the end. You didn't pick me for the
video contest, but we still ended up meeting anyway."
Morris squeezed my hand. "I wanted to meet you outside of a fan setting. To
give you a chance to get to know the real me. You seemed so starstruck at Ivy's
launch party. Then I found out we were going to volunteer together."
"A rock star, working at a youth center, and at the same place I'd decided to
volunteer." I shook my head. "It's still hard to believe."
"What's hard to believe about that?"
"You're supposed to be all about the rock and roll, party-hard lifestyle,
remember?"
"I suppose volunteering with youth is just as unlikely for a rock star as a wife
and kids and a white picket fence, hmm?" He quirked a grin.
I'd tried hard not to think about that conversation, not wanting to get ahead of
myself like always. But Morris and I were an official couple now. It made sense,
that we would talk about things like that.
I steeled my courage and asked, trying not to let my voice waver with hope.
"Are you saying you might settle down and be a family-man someday?"
"Not any time soon. But yes. I'd like that," he acknowledged with a soft smile.
"If I had a wife and family to settle down with."
My heart thundered in my chest. "I've always wanted a white picket fence. I
mean, you're right that now isn't the best time, I've still got school, you're still
recording and touring, and it's not like we're even married yet, not that I'm
saying we need to get married anytime soon, but it's the kind of thing you think
about when—"
"Natalie?" Morris interrupted.
"Stop talking?" I guessed weakly.
He shook his head with a soft smile. "No. Never stop talking. I want you to
stay exactly as you are."
"And what is that?"
"Excitable, enthusiastic, rambling Nat." He gave me a soft smile before
pressing a kiss to my lips. "The girl I fell in love with."



***



Continue the Feral Silence story with:

Feral Gaze, featuring guitarist Jayce

Feral Voice, featuring lead singer Kell

Feral Touch, featuring bassist Ren



Coming Soon:

Darkest Days #1: Hard Rock Kiss
Featuring lead singer of Darkest Days Noah Hart and our very own fangirl
Jennifer Young, Hard Rock Kiss is the first novel in my new Rock Star Romance
Series.

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Want a sneak peek of Ren's story? Continue reading with the first
chapter of Feral Touch.
 Feral Touch Excerpt

Enjoy this excerpt from Feral Touch, featuring bassist Ren

Despite the cool, brisk autumn air outside and the changing color of leaves,
the concert hall was sweltering inside. It was loud, dark and suffocatingly warm.
The combined body heat of a mass of people pressed together kept the
temperature high while the overworked air conditioning system blew out cool air
in vain. I could feel each bead of sweat rolling down my back, plastering my
shirt to my skin underneath my jacket. The only thought that ran through my
mind was how much I'd rather be at home with my cello.
"Is there a coat check?" I yelled into Natalie's ear. The concert hadn't started
yet, but music was already blasting from the speakers. Seventies disco. I
assumed it was to pump up the crowd and not a preview of the band we were
going to see.
The band my friends wanted to see, that is. I'd been dragged along unwillingly
to a rock show and didn't even know the name of the group they all seemed
crazy about.
I wrinkled my nose in distaste. Call me a classical snob, a purist, but I just
didn't understand how thrashing around on stage, screaming into a microphone
and playing the same three chords could be called music.
"Coat check's five bucks," Nat shouted back. "We just cram our coats into a
corner."
Five bucks shouldn't have been make-it-or-break it, but our private music
academy was expensive and most of us were on scholarships. Five bucks each
meant the different between real groceries or eating ramen noodles for a week.
"I'll keep mine on, thanks." If I couldn't afford five bucks for coat check, I
certainly couldn't afford to buy a new fall jacket if mine got stolen. I'd just have
to suffer through the concert a sweaty, sticky mess.
"I wish we'd gotten here earlier," Jennifer sighed, despondent. "We're so far
back we'll barely be able to make out their faces."
"Does that matter?" I asked. "We'll still be able to hear them."
Nat and Jen swung their heads around with matching expressions of disbelief.
"Are you kidding?"
 "The whole reason to go to a concert is so you can see the band in person."
"What's the point otherwise? You can just listen to their CD at home."
"I thought you guys were here because you like the music?"
Four eyes stared at me, uncomprehending.
"Never mind," I muttered. "Let's see if we can squeeze to the front."
Despite our best efforts, the crowd wouldn't budge. The three of us were stuck
at the back, just close enough to see the instruments on stage waiting for their
performers, but too far away to see the faces of the band's crew as they did sound
checks. There was a drum set at the back and two microphones standing tall, one
front and center and the other off to the side.
"What a waste," Natalie huffed.
"If it's such a waste, why don't we just leave?" I suggested. "It's still early
enough for me to get a couple more hours of practice in before bed."
"Absolutely not." Jen shook her head and linked arms with me, as if to keep
me from slipping away. "You've been shut away working your fingers to the
bone for long enough. You need to get out and live life once in a while."
"My cello is my life."
"And that's why we're dragging you out."
I knew my friends meant well, but crowds, loud noises, being in public…none
of it was really my thing.
Scanning my eyes across the pages of music notes, drawing my long bow
across my cello's strings, pressing my fingers against its neck in smooth strokes,
listening to the low, mournful wail that came from its hollow body—that was my
thing.
Playing my cello was the only time I could shut down my brain, turn off my
thoughts and just feel.
The lights dimmed and hysterical cheers swelled in the concert hall.
"They're starting!" someone cried.
The crowd called out for the band with a rhythmic chant. I listened closely,
trying to make out the words, but they were indecipherable.
Several long minutes passed. I grew impatient, silently willing the band to just
get out on stage already. Did they enjoy making the crowd scream and cry and
wait for them with baited breath? What a bunch of narcissistic show-offs.
The stage lights winked out and the cheers exploded. I thought I saw a few
dark shadows take their places in front of the instruments. When nothing
happened, the cheers slowly died down into a low, hushed rumble.
In one boisterous split second, noise blasted from the speakers and lights
flashed on, illuminating the stage. I jumped at the suddenness of it. I squeezed
my eyes shut and pressed my hands against my ears, fighting against the
combined force of the band and its screaming fans.
"Oh my god, it's them!" Jen shrieked. I opened my eyes and lowered my
hands to find her beaming face grinning at me. "It's Feral Silence!"
"You guys ready?!" the lead singer cried into the microphone. The audience
shouted their enthusiasm. He grinned, wide-eyed and manic, then turned to the
drummer and nodded. The drummer brought his sticks down with a crash and
the concert began.
It was just as loud and noisy as I'd feared. I resisted the urge to plant my hands
over my ears the entire time. My friends were grinning and shouting and singing
along, clearly having the time of their lives. All I wanted to do was sit down and
get a cool glass of water.
I had to admit, though, the band was good. Better than good. The lead singer
had an impressive range, going from low and growly to high-pitched screams,
then switching to smooth and sexy. The drummer, hiding behind his large drum
set, had perfect tempo, his sense of timing eerily accurate. The shirtless guitarist
wore only a leather jacket, and despite his penchant for flashy shredding,
actually had very well-structured solos.
The bassist intrigued me the most.
Although both have four strings and produce deep sounds, bass guitars aren't
technically similar to cellos. Cellos are tuned in fifths while bass guitars are
tuned in fourths. I had heard it was possible to string a bass guitar to produce
sounds like a cello, but I'd never seen anyone do it before.
I found cellos to have an almost bittersweet sound to them, melancholy yet
hopeful. It was one of the reasons I'd been drawn to them as a child. The
profound, mournful lows accompanied by uplifting highs ignited something in
my chest, something deep and powerful that I couldn't explain.
I never thought I'd find another instrument that could awaken that same
feeling inside me—until I heard the bassist from Feral Silence.
Halfway through the set, at the end of a mid-tempo ballad, the rest of the band
quieted their instruments and the spotlight shone on the bassist. He was well
dressed, almost formal compared to the jeans and leather the rest were wearing.
A well-fitting waistcoat over a crisp white collared shirt and a skinny tie suited
his tall frame well. I even thought I caught a pocket watch hanging from a chain.
Long dark hair covered his face, the distance between us making his features
indistinct.
He hunched over his instrument, fingers arranging themselves in complicated
positions slowly at first, then with greater and greater speed, the lithe digits of
one hand spidering along the fretboard while the other picked at the stings at a
rapid-fire pace.
 I stood frozen with my heart in my throat as luscious, heavy sounds emitted
from the instrument, somber yet oddly thrilling. My breathing sped up in time
with the music, my chest tightening with every crescendo.
I'd never been so caught up in a piece of music that wasn't orchestral or
classical. I didn't think rock music could evoke that kind of reaction in me.
Wasn't it supposed to be all thrashing around and yelling? Truth be told, I'd never
actually listened to much rock music to begin with. I did know one thing though
—bass guitarists were part of the rhythm section. I didn't know they also played
chords like a guitar.
The bassist strummed one final note before the cymbals crashed down and the
song picked up again. He stepped lightly to the edge of the stage, pointing and
waving at the audience, narrowly avoiding the grabby hands trying to yank at his
clothes. He leaned down and slapped a line of high fives, gliding away on deft
feet before he could get pulled down into the mob.
When the lead singer introduced the next song, the audience gasped. The
mood in the venue changed, turning almost soft and reverent. It started off like a
typical rock song. Then, near the middle, something magical happened.
The bassist pulled an electric violin from out of nowhere, tucked it under his
chin and drew his bow across the strings.
I thought I couldn't get any more impressed, but I was wrong.
I nearly lost all breath as an almost eerie melody echoed sweetly through the
concert hall. His body swayed to the music, graceful yet strong as he practically
ripped anguished notes from the instrument. The audience was hushed, not a
shout to be heard, until he lowered his head and drew the bow across the strings
a final time.
Salty tears stung my eyes. I looked down, letting my hair fall over my face so
no one could see, and quickly wiped my cheeks with my sleeve. I was
enraptured despite myself by a rock star that pulled off a haunting violin solo
mid-song. What other talents did this man have?
"He's. So. Awesome!" Natalie gasped out. She and Jen both had beaming
smiles. I examined the people to the back and side of me. Many of them had red-
rimmed eyes and were visibly sniffing. I hadn't been the only one affected by
that violin solo.
The concert hall was near-silent for brief moments as the crowd collected
themselves before the chanting and cheering started up again. Lots of fans were
calling out the bassist's name. It was a single syllable, but I couldn't make it out.
It almost sounded like the letter N, but that would be a weird name even for a
rock star.
"Ivy, are you crying?"
 I stuttered a protest, but my wet lashes gave me away. A pair of mischievous
grins crossed both my friends' faces.
"Aww, has the loud, noisy rock music touched your heart?" Jen teased.
I was saved from having to reply by the next song starting up. I wiped my
eyes one last time to clear away the tears.
The rest of the concert continued in a normal fashion, the heavy beat of drums
and the electric buzzing of a guitar assaulting my ears. The last encore song
concluded with moans and groans from the audience, but the lights in the venue
came back up so we knew it was over.
"That was so fun!" Jen gushed.
I rubbed at my ears to ease the ringing, but everything still sounded muffled,
like it was coming from far away.
"Even better than I'd dreamed." Natalie nodded emphatically.
"It was fine."
They both narrowed their eyes at me and I blushed, remembering the tears.
"I guess I don't need to ask which one is your favorite." Jen said.
"It's getting late," I said, changing the subject. "Let's grab your jackets and go
home."
"We can't leave now."
"Is there more?" I asked, incredulous.
Jen and Natalie shared a grin before speaking as one.
"It's time to go meet the band!"I frowned at Jen, confused. "Meet the band?"
"All the hardcore fans wait outside the back entrance of the concert hall to
catch the band coming out. Sometimes they take pictures with us!"
"And how long does that take?" I was already dreaming of my warm bed and
comfy blankets. I didn't want to know how late it was.
Jen shrugged. "Sometimes they come out right away, other times it takes a few
hours."
"Are you serious? I'm not waiting outside in the cold for hours just to get a
glimpse of some guys, famous or not."
Unfortunately for me, my two friends were determined and dragged me out
back despite my protests the whole way.
"It'll be fun, you'll see," Natalie consoled me. "It's almost like you revert back
to your fourteen-year-old self, when everything was new and exciting and you
were experiencing puppy love for the first time. There's this kind of emotional
high you get when you meet your idols. It can stay with you for months."
"They're not my idols."
"I seem to recall a certain someone crying during a violin solo."
"Not the same," I muttered.
 Jen and Natalie chatted excitedly as we waited; I tried not to sulk.
"Kell was so on point tonight," Jen said. "It's like he gets better with every
concert."
"You'd think his vocal chords would get tired or strained, but seriously, he's
better than ever!" Nat replied.
"Which one is Kell?" I asked.
"The lead singer," Natalie answered. "With the curly blond hair. The other
singer in the group is Jayce, but he's only back-up vocals. He's the lead
guitarist."
I remembered seeing shirtless leather jacket guy with a guitar and microphone
stand, so I figured that must be Jayce. As Jen and Natalie continued to talk, I
hopped from foot to foot and exhaled hot air onto my fingers to keep them from
freezing.
I didn't know why I was asking about the band members. It wasn't like I really
cared. I was just wasting time. I resisted the urge to ask about the bass guitarist. I
didn't want them to think I was interested in him. I wasn't some fangirl groupie
after all; I just thought he played his instruments very well. He was talented. As
a classically trained musician, I admired that.
He made me think maybe rock music wasn't as shallow as I'd thought.
It was only twenty minutes later when the creak of a metal door drew our
attention and someone stepped out. I winced as shrieks filled my ears.
"It's them!" Natalie cried, trying to push her way to the front. We had
somehow found ourselves near the back of the crowd again.
I wouldn't say I'm short, but I certainly wasn't the tallest person in the crowd. I
could barely see over the tops of people's heads. It seemed like a group of men
were slowly making their way through the crowd, pausing every few feet to take
pictures and sign autographs.
Two of them towered over the crowd with stern faces and thick, muscled
necks, most likely bodyguards. After them, I caught the top of a blond head, then
two short-haired men.
Glossy black hair came last, loose and flowing like it had been on stage.
My heart skipped a beat. My body began buzzing with nerves, anticipation
filling my chest, a rush of endorphins flowing through my veins.
Having that kind of reaction to a complete stranger was crazy. Just because I'd
seen him play music on stage didn't mean I should be nervous or eager. I'd had a
few chance run ins with movie stars on the street before and although it had been
exciting, I'd never reacted like this. I hadn't even known who this guy was three
hours ago.
"Oh my god, they're getting closer!" Natalie looked around quickly, noticing
that we were too far away for them to reach us. She frowned for a moment
before her eyes lit up and she grabbed mine and Jen's arms, hauling us away.
"Here. Let's wait here. This is the only path to get to their car. See?" She pointed
to an inconspicuous black limo van with tinted windows parked down the street.
"How do you know that's where they're going?" I asked.
"Do you see any other escape routes leading to a limousine?"
She made a good point. We maneuvered ourselves back and to the side. The
band members would have to pass us to make it to their getaway car.
"I feel like such a stalker."
"It's fine." Jen dismissed my concern with a wave of her hand.
Some other girls noticed what we were doing and followed suit, but we were
still in the best position. The crowd in front of us parted, one of the bodyguards
weaving his way through ahead of the band.
"Kell!" Jen cried out. She cupped her hands around her mouth to amplify the
sound as the blond haired man appeared between the press of bodies.
He looked up from signing an autograph and met Jen's eyes, then flashed a
blinding grin. I thought she was going to faint on the spot. He made his way over
to us, just like Natalie had predicted.
"Hey there." The lead singer sidled up next to Jen as she stared at him, open-
mouthed. She held her phone up silently, asking a question with her eyes.
"You want a selfie with me?" he asked, grinning. His voice was smooth and
almost teasing, just as enthralling as it was on stage. Jen nodded dumbly.
He put an arm around her shoulder and took her phone in his hand, quickly
turning the lens to face them and pressing the shutter button, then handed it back.
"Make sure to tag me when you post it online, 'kay?"
"I love you!" she squeaked, but he had already moved on to the next fan in
line. Natalie had been right—seeing this guy in person made Jen act like a
teenaged girl.
A man I didn't recognize with close-cropped hair followed. He was tall and
broad with thickly muscled arms. I thought maybe he was another bodyguard
when Natalie yelled out his name.
"Morris! You're awesome!"
I assumed Morris was the drummer, the one I hadn't been able to see hidden in
the back. He didn't look like any rock star stereotype I'd ever seen. There was no
swagger or cockiness, just a cool and slightly menacing expression. He looked
like he should have been a Marine or Navy SEAL.
I was nervous, wondering how someone that somber would react to flailing
fangirls, but he approached Natalie and let her babble at him for a few seconds
with a surprising amount of patience.
 "Your drums solos are awesome and I think you're so cool and I've been to so
many concerts and are you ever going to take off your shirt on stage?"
She kept up the chatter as she spun around quickly and pulled out her camera,
getting both of them in the shot within a split second. I thought I saw the corners
of his lips tilt slightly upwards, but it could have just been the flash.
"Thanks for your support," he said quietly before slipping away.
"I can't believe I got a selfie with Morris." She clutched her phone to her chest
like it was a precious treasure.
"Better make sure you don't delete it by accident."
I was joking, but Nat gasped and immediately started tapping at the screen,
probably emailing the pic to herself.
Next was Jayce. He'd put on a shirt, a testament to the rapidly cooling
weather. Both Jen and Natalie waved to get his attention. He threw them a
narrow-eyed, heated stare that almost made me flush, and I wasn't even the
recipient of it.
"You three want a photo?" he asked with a deep rumble low in his chest. He
didn't wait for our answer before throwing his arms around us. Jen and Natalie
both pulled out their phones and snapped pictures. I thought he'd let us go, but
instead he whispered into my ear. "I hope you enjoyed the show." His lips were
against my skin; my knees almost buckled. He let us go with a lingering caress
on my shoulder.
"Oh my god." Jen's voice was weak and breathy.
"Ah." Only a single sound escaped Natalie's mouth as she stared at his
retreating back, stars in her eyes.
I took in a deep breath of autumn air to steady myself. That man had almost
too much presence. How the hell were these guys able to make us act like
giggling tweens?
My friends were still caught up in Jayce's wake, so I was the only one to see
the bassist slip through the crowd. His back was to me, long black hair falling
over his shoulders. He signed several autographs and took a few selfies with the
girls opposite me.
I got the urge to shout his name and get his attention. I was just as caught up
in the fangirl atmosphere as my friends. I realized then that I still didn't know his
name.
He turned around, a pleased smile on his face.
Time stopped.
My body turned cold, then hot, then cold again. My limbs trembled, going
weak. I forgot how to breathe. At that moment, air didn't seem important.
His eyes roved over the hoard of waving and shouting girls, trying to decide
who to approach next.
Would he see me, or would he skim over me as if I was one of a million girls,
just like all the rest?
His eyes met mine. His mouth dropped, face turning pale. Bloodless lips
moved silently, but no words came out.
We stood there for several long seconds staring at each other in shock. My
muscles locked up. I couldn't move.
He took a step forward, then another. The fans noticed our staring contest and
swung their heads between us, questions in their eyes and frowns on their faces.
He stopped when he was barely two feet away from me. I had to crane my
head up to face him. Had he always been this tall?
The spell Jayce had cast on Natalie and Jen broke as they turned back and saw
the bass guitarist of Feral Silence standing right in front of me. Jen jumped back,
startled, and Natalie brought her hands to her mouth. I saw them gaping at us out
of the corner of my eye, but I was too wrapped up in the tall man to care.
Finally, I managed to make my vocal chords work.
"Ren?" I asked, hesitant, not sure if I was making this all up in my head.
"Ivy?" he replied, voice filled with wonder.
I nodded once. The expression on his face melted slowly from surprise to joy,
eyes shining brightly, a smile turning up the corners of his lips. He let out a sharp
bark of a laugh. I followed suit, bringing both hands to my chest and pressing
my palms against my heart. I could feel it pumping madly even through my
layers of clothing.
"How… why…?" I started, but couldn't finish a single sentence.
"I just— I didn't—" he started. He couldn't seem to make himself speak in
coherent sentences either. He finally just shook his head and asked in disbelief,
"What are you doing here?"
"My friends dragged me out to see some famous rock band." I quirked a grin
and he returned it.
"I never thought I'd see you—"
Before he could finish, a bodyguard turned up at his side and began to shuffle
him through the crowd.
"No, wait—" Ren protested, but the bodyguard didn't listen and continued to
manhandle him toward the limo.
"Sorry sir, we're running late and the crowd is starting to get out of control."
Ren turned back to me one last time before he was dumped into the vehicle. I
caught a final glimpse of his pale face, dark eyes still wide and disbelieving,
before the door was slammed closed. It took off seconds later.
I stood there, frozen.
 Jen and Natalie immediately went into overdrive, tugging at my sleeve and
peppering me with questions.
"Ivy! What the hell was that?"
"How did Ren know your name?"
"Have you met him before?"
I nodded without thinking about it. "We… we went to the same music school
back home."
"Oh my god, you lucky girl. Why didn't you tell us?"
I couldn't speak. I just stood there in the crowd of fans, staring at the retreating
van. Jen and Natalie lost a bit of their exuberance.
"What's wrong? Ivy? You look like you've just seen a ghost."
"I have."
I opened and closed my mouth a few times, trying to explain but not knowing
how. The looks on Jen and Nat's faces were rapidly changing from excitement to
worry with every second. I closed my eyes and took a steadying breath, finally
forcing myself to speak.
"Ren disappeared five years ago."

***


Continue reading Feral Touch…
 Table of Contents
Feral Heart
Copyright
Other Books
Free Ebook
Summary
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Feral Touch Excerpt