Bad Moon (BBW Paranormal Romance) (5 page)

"You what?!"

"And that is what you are going to wear
tonight. You're going to get attention from like, the hottest boy
ever and then realize that you need to dump that awful idiot you
call your boyfriend."

"Well," I murmured. "You don't have to worry
about that last part. I just dumped him like two hours ago."

"WHAT? OH. MY. GOD. TELL ME EVERYTHING!" He
yelled, his brown eyes wide with anticipation. I cringed, and saw
that several people at the bar had turned around to give us
quizzical and dirty looks.

"Fine, as long as you stop screaming." I
recounted to him everything, even showing him the text I had sent
him.

"He hasn't even texted you back, what a
prick!"

"I know," I sighed. We were unable to say
much more, because the lights dimmed and a handful of people in
black littered the stage.

'Actual roadies
,' I
thought as the crowd went wild. I realized then how badly I needed
to get in with this band. Their sound was similar to Bad Moon; I
had listened to them a lot before we left. They were on the verge
of getting a professional record deal, the only hold up seemed to
be which deal they were going to take. I could feel my confidence
plummet as I imagined myself trying to talk to them, a big girl in
PJs and a leather jacket that turned out to be way less cool than I
anticipated.

"Okay, I'll wear it!" I shouted to Brandon
over the noisy crowd.

"You'll what?"

"I'll wear the dress!" Brandon smirked,
crossing his arms over his chest in satisfaction. The crowd roared
again, and I turned my attention back to the stage, where a
familiar looking guy with dark brown hair was sauntering towards
the mic, waving a hand up in the air.

"Oh my God," I whispered to myself.

"Told you!" Brandon hollered in my ear. How
could I have not realized that Aamir was the lead singer in Fun
Aim?! I was just about ready to melt in my seat.

And if the shock wasn't bad enough, he was
even more incredible live. His voice was smooth and soul-shaking,
and he had incredible range. His voice was very different from
Trent’s, but no less captivating, and just as sexy. The way he
swayed his hips in slow, grinding thrusts and cupped the microphone
in his hands like he was making love to it...

I couldn't help myself. I was completely and
totally turned on.

And I had to admit, there was something
completely surreal about it all. I didn't even notice the time pass
us by until the music was interrupted by his speaking voice, sultry
and delicious just like before.

"Thanks for being such a kickass audience,"
he said into the mic, letting out an endearing chuckle as the crowd
went wild. "This next song I'd like to dedicate to a beautiful
woman I met tonight. This is for you."

Then I swear to God, his eyes met mine before
he turned to his lead guitarist.

"Did he just look at you?" Brandon asked, his
mouth nearly pressed against my ear so that I could hear him.

"I don't know," I said, almost overcome with
shock. But it seemed in possible in such a crowded, dark place.

The song was filled with power and passion,
and seized my core, rocking me with urges I knew were completely
inappropriate in a crowd of people that big. But I couldn't help
it; the electric music was swimming through my veins, quickening my
desire with every down stroke of the rhythm guitar. It was like
trying to navigate a love charm and losing desperately.

"I want you to know

I want you, in every way

and I wanna touch your

sweet body tonight"

And then he raised his eyes to meet my gaze
again. There was no mistaking it this time. He was totally
one-hundred percent looking at me. My knees went weak at the
thought.

I was going to look damn hot at that party,
that was for sure.

Fun Aim rocked the show, had an incredible
encore, and were completely flooded with requests for autographs
and pictures at their merch table. Not that anyone in the band
needed to be there, they totally had sellers to do that for
them.

"Wow," I said to Brandon after selling a CD
to a particularly thrilled fifteen-year-old. "They are like, light
years ahead of us."

"Yep, that's why you better hook up with
their singer and get us a record deal," he said, winking at me. "No
excuse now that you're single!"

I took a sharp inhale, still trying to
believe that he would want to have anything to do with me—size
sixteen, pasta-guzzling
me
.

"Okay," I said. "I'll do my best."

Brandon squealed and threw his arms around
me, reassuring me that I wouldn't regret it. I was pretty sure I
would, but I just smiled and pulled my flask out of my bag, taking
a quick swig.

"Careful," Brandon warned me. "You don't want
to get carried away with that stuff."
"We'll just consider it a celebratory drink," I said after I
swallowed the stinging liquid courage. "Now let's get this stuff
cleaned up, this place is emptying out." Brandon helped me put
everything away while the other guys came out to talk to a few
stragglers, people who had purchased some merch but really, truly
wanted to talk to the band and congratulate them. It was really
encouraging to see all the support, and I realized for the first
time how much it meant for them to hear praise. I made a mental
note to be more encouraging whenever they showed me a demo.

I made Brandon drive us back to the hotel,
which was even creepier at this point because it was past midnight.
Everyone except Brandon grumbled, wondering why in the world I
couldn't go dressed as is.

"Who do you have to impress?" Martin groaned
as we pulled into the barely lit parking lot.

"I'm not going to network in sweatpants! Just
sit tight and stop complaining," I said as I slid open the van door
and stepped out onto the concrete.

"Well, you're not going up there by
yourself," Trent said, pushing open the passenger’s door and
meeting me behind the van.

"Do you really think we did a good job?" he
asked me, still smiling as we climbed up the steps to our room.

"You know I do. Besides, who cares what I
think? People waited around to tell you how awesome you were!"

Trent's smile widened. "Yeah, well, I know
you won't lie to me."

"Aw." Trent could be so sweet sometimes. I
smiled back at him quickly before opening the door. "I'm going to
use the bathroom to change, just give me a few minutes."

"Alright," he said, closing the door behind
him and tossing his lean body on the bed, his arms outstretched. I
rummaged through my suitcase and found my brand new, never been
worn white dress; it was a vintage, fifties style halter neck
dotted with pink spots. I had never worn it because I felt silly
calling so much attention to myself.

'But tonight's different,' I reminded myself
as I marched into the bathroom, dress in one hand and makeup bag in
the other. I pulled it on, slightly fearful that maybe I had put on
weight, but it fit perfectly, cupping up my breasts to produce
insane cleavage, and running down the length of my body to reveal
my (relatively) narrow waist.

"You look great," I told myself, and for once
actually believed it. I didn't have too much time to spruce myself
up, so I let my hair down and ran some mascara through my
eyelashes. I put on some red lipstick to complete the vintage look
and to contrast my pale skin, and I ran out the door without giving
myself a second glance.

"Okay, ready!" I called out.

"Alright," Trent said, pushing himself up off
the bed. "Let's—" as soon as he saw me he paused, staring with his
mouth agape. I could feel the familiar burn in cheeks. I suddenly
knew that this was an awful idea.

"I look like I'm trying too hard don't I? I
knew it, this was stupid...I'll go change," I muttered, completely
mortified. I probably looked even bigger, like a tent trying to
look sexy. I turned to go back into the bathroom, but Trent caught
my wrist.

"No," he said. I turned to face him, and his
eyes bore into mine, gorgeous with an earnest glint. "You look
great."

The heat of his hand on my wrist suddenly
burned, and I could feel the fever travel through my coursing
blood. A few moments there felt like eternity, and in it I could
see a taste along the line of his lip, something I wanted,
something I—

"We should go," I said, smiling and pulling
my hand back. More than anything, I needed to get my head out of
the gutter.

"Yeah," he muttered, a blush creeping over
his face. My heart skipped a beat; I had never seen Trent blush
before, not in all the years of knowing him. It suddenly struck me
as very strange.

We walked back to the van in an awkward
silence, the air between us tense enough to cut with a knife. When
we got into the car it was like Martin could sense it.

"Who died?" he joked. But he caught a good
glimpse of me and dropped it, letting out a low whistle. "Someone's
trying to make the boyfriend jealous."

I just gave him a terse smile, not wanting to
say anything about the break-up. Of course, Brandon took care of
that for me.

"They're done, finito! Bailey told Jason off
before the show."

"Thanks Brandon," I mumbled
sarcastically.

Trent turned around from the passenger seat
to asses the situation. "Really?" he said.

"Totally," Brandon answered for me. "She
showed me the text."

"Yeah, it's true," I said, rolling my eyes at
Brandon. I was pretty embarrassed by the fact that I had text
message dumped someone though, and felt the need to qualify it. "I
was pretty drunk when I texted him...I'm sure we'll talk it over
later."

"Um, no you won't," Brandon said, a dead
serious look on his eye as we got back on the highway, the annoying
GPS badgering Nick to keep left. "Because you have to hook us up
with Fun Aim and bang their lead singer."

"What?" Trent choked on the water he was
sipping and sprayed it out onto Martin and I who were seated
directly behind him. We yelled out in anger, and Nick and Brandon
burst out into laughter.

"Don't listen to him, he's just talking
shit," I said, giving Brandon a dirty look.

"Fine, then I'll hook up with him..." he
said, taking a sassy tone and turning his head to look out the
window at the passing headlights in the darkness. I rolled my eyes
and looked out my own window, watching the streaks of light zoom
by. It was hypnotic, giving myself over to the flashing brightness,
and cathartic as well. I could feel the swell of nerves dissipate,
and I suddenly wasn't so afraid of looking like a fool anymore.

'You look great. If he
doesn't want you, someone will, one day,
' I told myself,
even though I knew the sting of rejection all to well. That's why I
stopped pursuing guys long ago. The first and only guy I had
admitted to having feelings for was Alec Anderson, my lab partner
for ninth grade biology. He was nice and funny, and while he wasn't
the best looking kid around, I thought he was a catch. My crush on
him was so ridiculous that I would write out his name in bubble
letters all over my notebook, showing them to nobody but Sierra,
who thought they were creepy but endearing. But I held steadfast to
the belief that she couldn't understand me; she was thin and
beautiful, and had had several boyfriends by the time we were in
eighth grade. When we were in ninth grade, I could tell it would be
only a matter of months before I would be the lone virgin,
wondering alone in my room what it was like to even kiss a guy.

So, against protests of the insecure little
voice in my head, I slipped Alec a note in class one day, asking
him to meet me behind the bleachers after school ended. He looked
at me quizzically, but nodded, writing back a note that said,
"sure."

Well, I waited behind that bleacher for three
hours, finally giving in when my mother sent me a concerned text
and it started raining. That was also the day I realized I should
always carry an umbrella.

Alec avoided talking to me unless he had to
the next week, and then eventually he started dating a girl named
Stephanie. She was a nice, smart girl, and I couldn't even hate
her. I couldn't even console myself with a, 'his loss.' Because
ultimately, she had something I didn't.

She was thin.

But as I watched the zooming cars go by,
bright and filled with hope like shooting stars, I knew that even
that memory couldn't hurt me tonight. Sure, all the pain would come
back to me eventually—my self-hatred, my abandonment problems, my
daddy issues...

But tonight I was untouchable. Tonight, I
would be a star.

The house we arrived at was small and had a
decent plot of land, with people milling about and calling to one
another loudly. We had some difficulty parking, so I texted Aamir
about where was okay. Trent seemed pretty annoyed that I had his
number, which was uncomfortable to say the least. But I brushed him
off, reminding myself that nothing would bother me tonight, not
even Trent’s moodiness.

"He said you can park on the lawn," I told
Nick as I picked up my purse and strapped it around my chest. We
walked up to the door and I lead the way, avoiding eye contact with
any of my bandmates since they were pretty eager to kill my buzz.
Inside a motley of people milled about; mostly young and wearing
edgy clothing, but I refused to let that make me feel out of
place.

‘I look hot
,' I
reminded myself.

"Let's get something to drink!" I called back
over the racket to the guys before making my way to the open
kitchen where a giant keg was waiting for us in a tub of ice. I
wasn't sure how that rhyme went about liquor and beer, so I decided
to stick to the counter with handles of rum and vodka. I fixed
myself a drink in a classic red solo cup, realizing with a smirk
how little things had changed since college finished. Martin
exclaimed excitedly behind me and he and Brandon were eagerly
pumping themselves some drinks.