Author: Cheryl McIntyre

It’s a good thing too, because A Fool’s Paradise hits the stage and I have an eargasm I feel all the way to my panties.

Park has a stage presence that is ten times hotter than the sexy asshole that lives in the apartment below me. There’s no coldness to him. Only raw passion. His voice is husky, sultry, as he rasps out the song. The way he holds the microphone, it’s like he’s making love to it. The way he looks at the audience, it’s like we’re making love to him. Like he can’t get enough of us. It’s sensual and exciting.

When he captures my gaze and holds it, I know I’m in trouble.

8

Park

We always play a mix of our own songs as well as covers. The band gets pissed at me because I have a hard time following a set list, but I have to sing what I’m feeling. I’ve always been that way. When I was in the band with Guy, Hope, and Chase, they never questioned it. They knew me and always just went along with it.

Sometimes I really miss those days.

I don’t know for sure what I’m feeling right now. The only thing I’m sure of is I haven’t been able to take my eyes off Lucy since she walked through the door. I don’t know if it’s her—her innocent charm, her rocking body, her lack of interest in the other guys having the same issue as me… Or maybe it’s because she’s forbidden. Whatever it is about her, it’s been painful to look and know I’m unable to touch.

I drop the mic to my side and look at the guys. “Hurts So Good,” I say.

They nod and the drums start the bom bom tsk, bom bom tsk, bom bom tsk. I follow the guitar in and skim the audience for her face again. My eyes burn into her as I belt the lyrics.

I have no idea what I’m trying to tell her. I don’t know where I got the balls to do this in front of Jessie. But I realize I don’t give a shit. I watch Lucy’s lips part in appreciation when I tell her to sink her teeth right through my bones and decide it’s worth Jessie’s wrath.

She knows as well as I do it’s not just a song as she moves her body to the beat of the music. Fuck. It’s like having sex without ever touching. Lucy sways her hips as I caress her with my voice. Our eyes lock and I can see that passion glowing inside her. I drop my voice low, never breaking our gaze, and plunge to my knees. The girls in the crowd scream as I lean back until my shoulders graze the stage. “Come on baby,” I growl into the mic before springing back up. She’s stopped moving now, watching me with an intensity that makes me want to cut the set short and take her home right now. She definitely knows I’m not just performing.

And so does the rest of the audience. Heads start turning to see who I’m singing so intently to. Her cheeks blaze with embarrassment, so I turn to a girl closer to the stage and serenade her for awhile, but I make sure Lucy gets the last line.

I try to be careful after that. I stick to the playlist and make minimal eye contact with her. I catch Jessie’s scowl a few times, but I ignore him. There are fifty people between us. I think it’s safe to say I’ve kept a no-touching distance.

I end the last song and thank the audience. Usually I jump off the front of the stage, choose a girl to get drunk with, and have her take me home.

Not tonight.

I step backstage and slip out the side door for fresh air. I lower myself to a crate and rest my back against the cool brick wall.

The door swings open a moment later, but I don’t look to see who’s joining me. “Hiding?” Guy’s voice asks from the darkness.

I smirk as I stare up at the stars. “Nah. I’m not scared of you. Just needed some air.” And then I pry a cigarette from my pack with a chuckle. I shield the flame from the wind and light up.

“Your voice won’t last if you keep that up.” He sinks down beside me. He was always saying shit like that back in the day. The band was huge to him. He pushed us to be great. He was always on my ass, encouraging me to quit smoking. Quit drinking.

He hasn’t tried to encourage me in a long time. Probably since about the time I quit our band and formed a new one.

“It’s all right. I’m sure I’ll die before my voice gives out.” I wince as soon as the words leave my mouth. I can feel his eyes on me, but I refuse to look at him.

We’re both quiet for awhile. I wait for him to call me on that one or say what he came here to say. He seems to be waiting for me to talk. I don’t give in.

“She’s home.”

Two words make me flinch. “How long?” I croak as I look sideways at him.

“A month. She wants to see you.”

I expel my hit and laugh. She wants to see me. Life lesson number 6: You don’t always get what you want. In fact, it’s pretty fucking rare.

“Is he with her?”

“Yes.”

Of course he is.

I flick my cigarette into the darkness and stand up. “I’ll think about it.”

I’m lying and he knows it. I have no intentions of seeing her. If I never see her face again it’ll still be too soon. Besides, I’m sure I’ll spend eternity in Hell beside Hope Love.

I go back inside, grab hold of the first girl that says my name, and a bottle of Jack. I plop down and pull the girl into my lap. “What’s your name?” I ask her.

I don’t know why I ask. I won’t remember in an hour.

***

I wake up wet. I shake my head and instantly begin puking. Soft hands turn my head then proceed to push me onto my side.

“You have to roll over, Park,” Lucy groans. “Come…on…” She’s panting and I want to see what she looks like right now, but I can’t keep my eyes open. I also can’t seem to stop vomiting.

I try to help. At least I think I do. My limbs are numb. I think I feel her shirt under my palms.

“Park. Can you hear me?”

I nod and that forces more vomit up. I hear footsteps moving away from me. I guess she got tired of my shit already. That’s quicker than most. Guess I set another record.

Ugh. I can’t stop spinning. Life lesson number 7: Something about drinking less. I’ll figure it out later.

“Bree, come help me get him inside before Jessie sees him.”

“Holy shit,” Bree whispers. “Is he alive?”

I moan as another wave of nausea hits me. Nothing comes up this time, but that doesn’t stop my stomach from convulsing. I cough and open my eyes. I don’t feel like I should be alive.

Lucy’s bent over me, her hand resting on my arm. “You need to come inside. Can you walk?” If I could laugh, I would.

I close my eyes. I can’t even focus. I guess I could crawl. Using my legs, I push myself to the side and flip over. My face rests in my puke and I realize how fucked up this situation is.

“Ew,” Bree mutters. “Gross, Park.”

“Just help me carry him,” Lucy hisses.

“I’m not touching him. He has puke all over him—is that a French fry? Uh, God.” She makes a strangled noise. “Nu-huh, Lu. He’s disgusting. Plus, there’s no way we can pick him up.”

“Ugh.” I open my eyes again as Lucy’s hands wrap around my waist. I lift my head and feel the warm moisture run down my face. It fucking reeks. I reek. And it is a French fry. That is disgusting. Real life people—it isn’t pretty. That’s life lesson…? Fuck, I can’t remember. Just add it to the list.

“Almost up,” Lucy grinds out. I can tell her voice is strained so I double my efforts and somehow make it to my feet. I sway and she squeezes me to her side. I shouldn’t like it.

But I do.

I think I black out because the next thing I know, I’m in the bathtub, Lucy’s kneeling between my legs, and cold water is pelting my face.

“Oh, my God. Don’t do that to me again.”

I look up at her. She’s pale, but her cheeks are red from exertion. She’s drenched, her hair’s plastered to her, and her eyes shine with tears. Her shirt is covered with my puke. I lift my hand, cupping her cheek in my palm. I want to tell her I’m sorry. That this is part of the reason she needs to stay away from me. That I’m no good.

But nothing comes out.

She turns her head away, making my hand fall to my lap. “You fell over and wouldn’t wake up. You hit your head. There’s blood.” She’s talking too quickly. I’m having a hard time keeping up. “I think I should call an ambulance.”

“No,” I croak. “Be fine.”

She shakes her head and grabs the hem of my shirt. She fights it until it’s over my head and she throws it behind her. When her hands go to work on my jeans, a shot of adrenaline gets my heart pumping. “This isn’t how I pictured this,” she murmurs.

“You pitcher…?”

That didn’t come out right, but she understands what I’m asking. “Yes. No. Just shut up, Park.” My jeans finally slip past my hips, taking my boxers along. She stops and forces my underwear to where it should be and I try to help because I know she shouldn’t be responsible for me. Nobody should have to deal with this.

Smacking my hands away, she hisses, “Just stop. You’re making it harder.”

I blackout again.

The scent of honey suckle and mint brings me to. Fuck. Lucy’s washing me. She’s fucking washing me.

“I’m sorry,” I say. Her hands pause in my hair and she meets my gaze. “I’m sorry I’m such a loser.”

“You’re not a loser, Park. You’re just reckless.”

I laugh. It hurts my throat. She has no idea how reckless I am. Her hands massage the shampoo into my scalp and it feels so good. I sigh.

“And you have bad breath,” she adds, titling her chin up so her nose isn’t so close to my mouth.

“Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing or I will definitely take you to the hospital.”

I laugh again. Wow. My head is really pounding. “You’re kind of funny, Lucy.” She fills a cup with water and tips my head back. She’s careful to keep the soapy water out of my eyes. “You’re nice, too.”

That makes her laugh. “I tried to tell you.”

“Yeah.” I close my eyes. When I open them again, she’s pulling her shirt off. She tosses it on top of mine. I watch as she lathers up all that hair. As she tilts her head to rinse, I run my eyes over her neck, her chest, her stomach. My eyes pause on the belly button piercing. How did I miss that? She sheds her jeans next and she’s in front of me in her bra and panties. After everything she’s done for me, I shouldn’t be such an asshole, sleaze ball, but I’m getting turned on witnessing her half naked, dripping wet, and soaping up her body.

She’s oblivious to my perusal and that just makes me feel shittier. I’m a fucking creep. Worse yet, I have to fight my hands from reaching for her. I want to pull her against me and help her wash her body. I want to trace my fingers over her curves and feel her pulse under my mouth, hammering in her throat. I doubt she wants my vomit mouth anywhere near her.

She shuts the water off and looks down at me. Our eyes lock. “Fucking gorgeous,” I whisper. She feels around blindly for a towel, as if refusing to look away. Maybe she’s as unable to tear her eyes off me as I am her. When she finds it, she sinks to her knees, patting me dry.

Fuck. I want to touch her so bad.

“Can you make it to my bed?”

I swallow loudly. “Your bed?”

“I want to keep an eye on you. My bed’s big enough for both of us.” She holds out her hand and I take it, letting her pull me up and guide me to her room. I can’t remember the last time someone took care of me.

“You should probably take those off,” she states flatly, gesturing to my boxers. “They’re all wet.” She turns around and I can’t help but chuckle. I’m not shy, but she obviously is. I shove them down and kick them off. I lose my balance and fall onto her bed.