Loving Kate (Acceptance #3) (39 page)

Seth reiterates the challenge, “So let me get this straight, I win, you date her. I lose I have to get a Prince Albert, right?”

“Yep.” A hearty chuckle burst from my lips.

It’s as if the music stops, and everyone in the room ceases to exist. Seth and I don’t break the bond with our eyes, knowing the stakes are huge.  I never back down from a bet, I am more than confident I won’t lose. Grabbing my beer, I lean over to Seth, “We doing this?”

Seth looks worried, and for a moment, my confidence grows. The best he may have is a full house, but that doesn’t beat a four of a kind. Seth looks back over to blondie then glances down to his crotch and grins, “Ok. Turn the last card.”

Craig flips over a queen of spades. Now I am sitting with four of a kind, queen high. I got this. Darren and Craig are afraid to breathe, glancing at Seth, who looks as though he just won the lottery. Fuck, what does he have? The air thickens as I try to swallow the last of my now warm beer. The cards show my four of a kind. Seth releases a deep breath and flips the cards over to show his ace and king of spades. Kill me, I just lost.

I just fucking lost.

My anger builds like a volcano threatening to erupt. I take a deep breath and with one hand sling the cards towards Seth. His grin is killing me, and I want so badly to punch something, a fucking royal flush. That never happens. How could that happen? I bolt up knocking the chair to the ground and push the chips across the table. Craig and Darren sit frozen watching my rage unfold. Seth smirks, “Hey, calm down. Your new girlfriend is Vanessa,” he says, pointing back to the girl against the wall, “You’d better get started.” He erupts into laughter and shakes his head.

Running my hands through my hair all I see is red. I take a quick glance back at Vanessa. She is staring at me- well everyone is staring after the spectacle I’ve made. Our eyes meet, and in this moment, I spot something in hers, curiosity? With a half-smile, I walk over to Hailey dancing in the short black dress. I snake an arm around her waist, “Want to get outta here?”

Her eyes light up with fire and she smiles.

“Let’s go, now.” I say, motioning towards the door. With a glimpse to the blonde in the red-hot mini-skirt. I leave with Hailey, in the killer black dress, who’s been eye-fucking me all night.

On the way to her apartment, she runs a hand along my thigh. The smell of flowers and cheap perfume, works its way through my Jeep, causing a headache. She asks me why I was so angry earlier and I mumble about losing on a great hand of poker. This answer seems to suffice, and her mouth remains shut for the rest of the way.

We enter the apartment, a typical college girl’s hideout. Pink frilly things and books are everywhere, and a nice flowery couch sits in the living room. She offers me a drink and I shake my head. I grab a hold of her as we enter the room. We make our way over to the wooden framed bed, kicking off shoes. She leans in to kiss me, “I have wanted you all night.”

I know.

Long brown hair tangles around my fist and I lean in to claim her lips. My other hand runs down her sweet body, and she rushes to get her panties off, good fast and quick - so I can get out of here. I’d wanted this earlier, but I can’t stop thinking of Vanessa now. Pouty pink lips, long blonde hair, and the way she saw me- as if she were staring into my soul.

I crash my lips back to Hailey and we fall to the bed. She sits up and lifts her arms as I grab the hem of her dress. I lift it in one swift motion as she claws at my shirt. She looks at my chest, panting and breathy she says, “Oh, I love your muscles.” She runs a hand across my abs, towards my jeans.

With Vanessa still prominent on my mind, I back away from Hailey.

She freezes a moment and then reaches again for my chest.

“Stop, can we do this another time? I have to go.” I can’t believe my own ears. Hailey frowns, moving lower on the bed towards me.

“Why should we stop?”  

“I’ve gotta get up early.” I say.

“But it’s Saturday.”

But it’s Saturday
I mock in my mind.

“So I’ve got things to do.” I say, retreating.

“You’re kidding right?” She reaches her arms around my neck and purrs against my skin. The vibration makes me uneasy and I hop out of bed. “No, I really have to go.”

My patience is wearing thin, and I need to leave now or she might pull the clingy act girls love to do.

Finding the right words, I head towards the door. “Maybe another night.” I yell, rushing out of the house. 

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Prologue

Stories are meant to be told. I firmly believe that or I wouldn’t be a writer. And yet, some stories should never be told for a variety of reasons. My story…
OUR
story…is on the border of both of those thoughts. When I first met them, it was quickly decided I would write their story. And that is a
great
story—the story I
want
to tell with all my heart and soul. The only problem is, in order to tell their story I have to tell mine, too, and I’m not sure I’m ready to share
my
story, yet.

Sighing, I take a look around for a moment and appreciate the silence at the end of the day. It’s funny how so many things can change over the course of a few years. I live in the lap of luxury, a beautiful beachfront house with every amenity I could have ever wanted. But at the end of the day, it’s just a house, and a house isn’t a home until you make it one.

His ultimatum tonight has prompted all of this reflection. He wants to make this a home for us, but he knows my heart may not completely be his.

Is it?

I would like to think so after all this time, but I’m not really sure. The only way to know for sure what I’m feeling is for me to write
THE
story. His, mine, theirs, and ours—it’s the only way.

I fire up my laptop and uncork a bottle of my favorite Pinot Grigio, filling the largest wine glass I own. It’s cool and warms me going down. It’s soothing and I know that in order to do this, I need something to calm me.

It’s just a story, Amelia, you write them all the time. It doesn’t have to be published; you’re just purging it from your system and getting it on paper.
 
But if anyone ever got their hands on it…

Closing my eyes, I wage the internal battle with myself. He gave me a deadline; I have seventy-two hours to answer his proposal. Three days. I just don’t know if three days is long enough for my heart to catch up with my mind. It doesn’t matter, he’s serious this time. The boys left and went camping, giving me time to do this, to gather myself. It’s time to put on my big girl panties and give him an answer. Which leaves me one, and only one option.

It’s time to write our story.

Chapter One

“Amelia! Are you really wearing
that
to the BAD concert?” 

Bastards and Dangerous, otherwise known as BAD, is playing tonight, and from what I hear they are all of the above. I’m not a fan. I’ve got eclectic tastes in music, but they’re just a little too loud for me. And since I’m not a fan, I don’t feel the need to wear the ‘I’m a groupie’ BAD shirt Belle had brought over for me. Instead, I’m wearing my best curve-hugging jeans, my favorite black converse, and a dark blue v-neck sweater. The concert is outdoors at the Greek and it’s been fifty degrees out all week which is unusually cold for Southern California. I’m not going to freeze so I can fit in with the crowd.

“Yes, Belle, this is exactly what I’m wearing. Don’t like it? I’ll happily let you give my ticket to someone else,” I reply with a smug smile.

“No, it’s fine; you can come just like that. I just hope they’re not offended when they meet you and you’re not supporting them,” she says as she crosses her arms and pouts.

“I don’t know why you think we’re going to meet them; they are THE biggest band out there right now. And I highly doubt they’ll care that
one
person out of the millions they’ve met isn’t branded in something they make a commission off of.”

She rolls her eyes at me, “I’ve already told you it’s inevitable. We’ve got press seats, thanks to my kick ass job as music editor at Slam magazine,
and
VIP backstage passes so I can interview them.”

I laugh at her, I can’t help it. “Belle, I love you, but their manager said
if
they have time you can interview them. And you know as well as I do that bands don’t stick around the venue any longer than they have to. By the time we get backstage, they’ll be long gone.”

“Nope, that’s how it usually works but not tonight. Something big is coming down the pipeline; they’re getting ready to announce something.
Everyone
is talking about it. Slam is the biggest entertainment magazine out there right now and they
want
us there. They’ve
never
sent us backstage passes before. That’s why I took them instead of giving them to some rookie reporter. And that’s why I want you there, too; since you’re an author, you can help me craft an amazing story.”

“One book, Belle, I’ve got one book out. Using the word author is reaching a bit.”

“Amelia Greyson! Stop belittling yourself. You may only have one book out, but I know you have at least ten more on your computer you don’t think are good enough. Your one book has been number one on the New York Times Bestseller list for the last three weeks! That’s huge! That’s author status in its finest. You need to be proud of your accomplishment! I tell everyone I can about my best friend, the author. I’m so proud of you, Mel.”

Belle is beaming; her smile is as wide as I’ve ever seen it and I know she’s right. It
is
huge for me, but it could also be a fluke, so I’m not planning on moving out of my crappy one-bedroom apartment anytime soon.

“Alright, we’re wasting time being sentimental. Let’s get out of here and go meet your BAD boys.”

She giggles, “I’m hoping I can get one of them to be
bad
with me tonight!”

We both burst out in laughter and head down to the limo; Slam sends their staff out to events in style.

Once we’re settled in our seats, Belle is bouncing around like an excited teenager, but then again so is almost everyone else here. Thankfully, we’re in the press section so it’s not too overwhelming with overly excited fans. The people in this section at least
pretend
to tone it down a bit until the show starts. The opening act was good, but for the life of me I can’t remember what they said their name was. Belle is having a blast, just like everyone else. I’m trying to act excited with her, but it’s hard to be excited for a band you don’t really like.

Music starts blaring and lights begin to flash as the band runs onto the stage one by one.

“How the fuck are you doing tonight, Los Angeles?”

The crowd’s response is deafening. Another band member picks up a mic, “I don’t think you heard Nick when he asked you, how the fuck are you doing tonight, Los Angeles?”

The crowd screams even louder and I’m wishing I would have brought some earplugs to help take down the decibels a bit. A new band member comes from the side of the stage; he’s cute in a tatted down rock star kind of way.

“Alright, we’re about to kick this bitch off, but before we do and you all are too drunk and hyped up to remember, Sawyer has some news we want to share with you.”

One band member takes his spot on the drums, the other guys are assembling themselves with guitars, and Sawyer takes the mic. He looks a lot like the cute one, just a little more sinful. I think Belle mentioned there were brothers in the band. I can’t say for sure from here, but I think he even has dimples. Suddenly, I wish Belle’s wish from earlier would come true and we could get them to be bad with us tonight.

“Los Angeles, are you ready to rock?”

More deafening screams. I think a girl in the front row just passed out. Good God, it isn’t all that. They’re just men. Sexy as sin men, but just men, and self-proclaimed bastards at that.

“First, I want to say thank you all for coming out to see us tonight. There were no California shows on our tour schedule since we’re winding down the tour. However, we have some really big news to announce and needed to stop off to give Slam magazine an exclusive interview.”

I look at Belle and her eyes are wide as saucers; she had no clue the extent of their generosity when they gave Slam tickets and passes. They really wanted to keep this secret since Slam didn’t get a heads up, only an ‘if they have time’ statement.

“So we figured two birds, one stone. We play for you then do the interview before heading out. And encourage you to pick up Slam magazine in two weeks to read about our exciting news.”