Blur (Changing Colors Book 2) (41 page)

“What are you doing? Are you trying to delete your account?”

I shake my head, uploading the picture to my account, and adding the comment “Throwback to that time I crashed a pirate party #ArghMatey.”

“Remember that saying, love? Paybacks are a bitch?”

“Now there’s no need for retaliation. We’re even now.”

I turn the phone in her direction. “Oh no, Sawyer. We are far from even. And this is just the beginning.”

Her eyes go wide. “What the—where did you even find this? I thought I told you to delete it!”

“Well, I guess I might’ve saved it anyway. You’ve got about a million photos in that thing. I had a feeling you wouldn’t even notice. Lucky for me, I was right.”

She sighs, rolling off me and onto her back. “You know this is only going to spark more conversation about us. The entire world already thinks we’re fucking around.”

“Do you really care what everyone else thinks?”

Brooke stays silent, mouth set in a firm line. Her mood a long way off from happy and content.

I turn on my side, staring down at her. My fingers can’t help themselves, brushing a few curls away from her eyes.

“I just…” Lip trembling, she shuts her eyes. “God, why is this so complicated?”

“It doesn’t have to be complicated, love.”

Her eyes pop open, looking back at me in confusion.

“We’re friends, right?” I ask, lying through my teeth. “And friends post pictures of each other. Friends joke around and laugh. Friends spend time together. It doesn’t have to mean anything, Brooke. It’s only as complicated as we let it be. Hiding our friendship will only perpetuate gossip, because those occasional moments when we let our guard down, that’s when the speculation will propagate.”

She stares at me for a long minute. And I know the second she shuts off and puts those walls back up. I see it. I see the way her honey eyes dim, slowly shutting out the light.

“If we’re just friends, then why are you singing
Do I Wanna Know
on stage and dedicating it to me?” she asks, voice tight.

I knew that would come back to bite me in the arse. Sure, I chose that song for a reason, but it was a heat of the moment sort of thing. I just couldn’t help myself, standing there, watching Brooke sing and dance in the front row. She just looked so perfect.

“Because it’s catchy, and I know you love the Arctic Monkeys. There was no double meaning in the choice.” The lies continue to build. But what other choice do I have? I’ve laid it all out there before, damn near begging her to end things with her fiancé, but she stayed resolute in her decision. She’s still engaged. And as of the phone conversation she had with Ember this afternoon, she’s still planning a bloody wedding with someone that isn’t me.

She sits up, swiping tears away from her cheeks. “Next time, just don’t do that. Don’t dedicate songs to me. Don’t brush my hair out of my face. Don’t say things to me about being together under different circumstances. Don’t flirt and text me funny things. Just don’t, okay? It’s become blaringly obvious that we both need to be more cognizant of the way we act around one another.”

Her words might as well be bullets. I’m bleeding out onto this rooftop deck. I stare up at the dark sky. How did the night end up like this? Christ, how did Brooke and I end up like this? This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. The second I laid eyes on her in Paris, I thought to myself,
Bloody hell, that woman is beautiful. I could stare at her face for the rest of my life.
And then, after I made love to her in my flat, I thought,
She’s the one. She’s the one I’ve been waiting my whole life for.

You know what?
Fuck this.
I refuse to sit here and play the victim while she spouts off utter bullshite. Pulling myself off the ground, I get to my feet. I stare down at her, irate with what I see. Shoulders hanging in defeat, tears still slipping from her lids, she’s a vision of pain. She looks like she just hurt herself more than me.

My lungs inhale an irritated breath, eyes staring out at the skyline. “One day, you’ll wake up, and you’ll be in a loveless marriage, related to a fucking dick by the name of Alistair, and you’ll look back on the way things went between us. And you know what, Brooke? I pray to God that I’m not there when it happens. Even after all of the nasty things you’ve said to me, and the way things ended between us. Even after all of the fucking lies you’ve thrown in my direction, I still love you.

“Your broken heart is in your eyes and staring back at me, Little Wing. And if this is how you look after forcing yourself to spout a few minor things you don’t really mean, I can’t imagine how you’ll look when you finally open your eyes and realize you were wrong. Honestly, I think it would kill me. I think it would utterly destroy me to see you that way.”

She doesn’t respond. Doesn’t even look up. Her eyes stay fixated on the ground. Tears shimmer down her cheeks beneath the glow of the city lights.

I kneel down before her, pressing my lips to her forehead. “Je vous aime pour le reste de ma vie, mais je pense qu’il est temps que je laisse aller.”
I’ll love you for the rest of my life, but I think it’s time I let go.
“Enjoy the rest of your night, Brooke. I’m heading back to the hotel, away from you and your self-destruct button, and where I can’t give anyone the wrong impression about us.”

And then I walk away.

Careless Cockups going green?

TheWord.com

This just in: Careless Cockups enjoy the reefer.

Mary Jane, ganja, whacky tobacky, grass, chronic, Bob Marley, reefer, pot, giggle smoke, hemp, herb, Maui Waui, whatever you call it, apparently the stars of Mad Sounds are quite the fans.

After their show at the Bowery, the band attended an after party at Frankie J’s Tuesday night in New York. An anonymous attendee at the party managed to get a few shots of Jesse and Dylan Bissette passing around a joint outside on Frankie J’s terrace. Rumored lover Brooke Sawyer and her close friend, popular supermodel Lindsay Monroe were also in the shot.

An insider at the party reveals, “They snuck out onto a private rooftop terrace and lit a joint. And pretty much looked blazed for the rest of the night.”

Although it shouldn’t be a controversy that members of a rock band indulge in a little reefer now and again, some Careless Cockups fans weren’t too thrilled.

We took to Twitter to find out the scoop. Our personal favorite is @BigDonnieJ…#CanIGetAnAmen.

@MusicIsMyJam

Dylan and Jesse smoke weed? #appalled #RockStarCliches

#NextStopRehab

@GranolaAndProud

Careless Cockups smoke pot? Is this really newsworthy?

#ItsLegalInSomeStates #GetTheStickOutYoAsses #ConservativeFuckwads

@LisaLove

God, you’d think Careless Cockups are the first ones to ever smoke pot.

#PassTheJoint #WeedIsGoodForYourSoul

@HeartOnMySleeve

Why do rock stars love destroying their bodies with drugs?

#Disappointed #CarelessCockups

@BigDonnieJ

Duuuuuuuuuude. #CarelessCockups #JointLitAndHappy

Lindsay Monroe is #bangin btw

@SweetEscapes

This is why I listen to Christian Rock. #CarelessCockups are #losers

#YouAreBetterThanThat

@BigDonnieJ

@SweetEscapes I bet Jesus loved weed. #CanIGetAnAmen

WWJD? #PassTheJointToTheApostles #SharingIsCaring

@SweetEscapes

@BigDonnieJ You’re going to hell.

@BigDonnieJ

@SweetEscapes Baby, if getting’ lit is wrong, I don’t ever want to be right.

Anyways, #JesusLovesMeThisIKnow #TheBibleTellsMeSo

Brooke

We're in Seattle at The Showbox on Pike Street. It’s the final US stop of the band’s tour. The venue is small, intimate, and yet large enough to hold over a thousand people. I'm enjoying the concert from the crowd, only a few feet from the stage. The guys are unbelievable. Dylan, Zach, Alex, and Jesse are all in their element. This is the best I’ve ever seen them perform. Not that they ever play a bad show, but I feel like tonight might be their best concert to date. It's on another level.

They slow the end of
Moan
down, eventually coming to a smooth stop. There is only one song left on their set list. Dylan walks back to Jesse, telling him something I can't decipher, and then grabs the bottle of whiskey sitting by his brother's drums, taking a hearty swig.

“Finish it, pussy,” Jesse eggs him on. Laughs from the crowd fill the venue.

Dylan flips him off as he turns around. He's smiling, but it doesn't reach his glazed over eyes. It’s so unlike him to drink this much before and during a show. My gut clenches at the idea it has everything to do with our night in New York and Jamie making a surprise appearance for tonight’s show.

“I’m switchin’ it up a bit," he addresses the audience. “I hope you don't mind.” He changes out guitars, sliding the strap of his coveted Fender Strat over his shoulder.

"What's going on?" Jamie whispers in my ear.

I shrug in response, my eyes still fixed on Dylan. This wasn't on the set list, but neither was their impromptu cover of
Do I Wanna Know
.

I'm tied up in knots because Jamie is here. And it’s pathetic to feel this way. He came to support the guys' success and celebrate with them after the show, not to put me in an awkward situation or piss off Dylan.

How could he do something like that when he doesn’t know anything about the real kind of relationship Dylan and I have?

Or had…
The past week he’s been avoiding me like the plague.

And now he’s up there—
getting drunker by the second
—making last minute set list changes. A feeling of doom overcomes me. There’s this nagging ache in my gut warning me that tonight won’t end well.

This is one of those times I wish teleportation devices were a real thing. I'd transport my ass straight to Mars if it meant not being in the middle of this. The fact that this could very well turn into a disaster is a very real possibility.

Dylan turns to Zach, conversing with him for a second or two before looking out into the crowd. “Since this is the birth place of the one of the greatest musicians that’s ever lived, I'm finding myself in a Hendrix state of mind.” He strums a few chords. The crisp sound vibrates throughout the venue. It's a gorgeous sound, hinting at what's to come, and the fans eat it up, clapping and shouting their approval.

“Have you ever been in love?” he asks into the mic.

A few girls shout, “I love you Dylan!” Of course they do. Who wouldn’t love him? He’s easily the most lovable human being on the planet.

He chuckles. “I fell in love with a girl in the City of Lights, Paris, my second home. I fell in love with this beautiful girl. She had me…” He pauses, staring past the bright stage lights and searching the crowd. His eyes meet mine. My heart falls out of my chest and straight onto the floor.

“This girl was kind of it for me…” He smiles again, still not reaching his eyes. “But she tore my fucking heart out.”

His words cut deep. I’m locked in his gaze. My feet are frozen to the dirty venue floor. My lungs can't seem to get their shit together, refusing to accomplish the simple inhale-exhale task that’s expected of them.

“She reminded me of this song the second I spotted her. I should have known it was a bad omen.” He barks out a harsh laugh. “When I saw her on the métro I thought to myself,
she's just like that Hendrix song
—painfully beautiful and our time together on this train is going to be painfully short. I would have done anything to make it last longer…” He pauses, running a hand through his messy hair.

The crowd is so quiet, rooted to his every word. I swear everyone around me can hear the hammering inside of my chest. I glance over at Jamie and Nigel, but they’re looking towards the stage, wondering and waiting just like everyone else.

“So, it's pretty fucking ironic that in the end, this song still rings true. I'm not sure I can do Hendrix justice, but I'll sure as fuck try.”

And it all comes together. My mind finally trips into understanding.
Little Wing
. He's going to play
Little Wing
by Jimi Hendrix. I can't believe it took me this long to figure it out. The heavy insight has me on the verge of passing out or throwing up. I feel so vulnerable, so exposed, that I might as well be standing here naked.