Strum Your Heart Out (30 page)

I'm not ready to talk to Drew, but I'm sure he's going out of his mind worrying about me telling my mom.

I can't bring myself to make him suffer. Even if he fucking deserves it.

I send him a short message.

Kara: I told my mom. Don't call or reply or anything. I'm still not ready for a no.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

I keep my phone off. Mom and I hit my favorite San Francisco spots. She calls in sick on Monday and Tuesday so we can keep acting like tourists.

Then it's Wednesday, and I can't eat, sleep, think, or breathe. About par for the course, really.

I have no easy way to occupy myself with Mom at work. I fill out my UCLA paperwork online. I check the Sinful Serenade show information on Tom's Twitter account. There are half a dozen pictures of him posing with pretty fans.

Drew isn't in any of the pictures.

Not that I'm checking.

Not that the only thing on my mind is what Drew is going to say to me tonight, if he's going to say anything at all.

I change into a sweater dress, tights, and boots and keep myself busy by walking around the city in the general direction of the concert venue. It's four miles away or so. By show time, I'm within ten blocks. I grab a bagel and a cup of tea to calm my stomach.

It only helps so much.

The line for the venue curves onto Market Street. There must be a hundred people waiting on the concrete. Most are in their teens or twenties, in ripped jeans and colorful sneakers. I should feel out of place given my not at all rock and roll outfit, but I don't.

Even when I cut to the front of the line to give my name to the bouncer. He looks at me like he can't believe that I am on the list. But I am.

"Backstage is there, honey." He nods to a door in the corner. "Nice girl like you—hope you're not one of these guys' girlfriends."

"We'll see." I ignore the direction of backstage and go straight to the main area. I'm not ready to see Drew yet. And I'm really not in the mood to see Tom sucking face with his groupie of the night. Or worse, getting sucked off by his groupie of the night.

The venue is close to full. I find the bar and order a grapefruit and tequila. It burns in a pleasant way that promises to calm the nerves in my stomach.

My mind is going in circles. What if he doesn't love me? How the fuck am I going to deal with that? I talk myself out of leaving twenty times.

The lights cut out. The room is pitch black and everyone is screaming. Screaming out of their fucking minds.

A spotlight turns on. It's focused on a single figure on the stage. A tall guy in a black v-neck and dark jeans, with an acoustic-electric guitar around his shoulders.

Drew.

He steps up to a microphone. His cheeks flush. He's actually nervous.

"You guys realize I'm not Mr. Webb, right?" He waves at the crowd. "Not sure I can promise to strip the way he does."

A few dozen girls scream in a mix of agony and ecstasy.

"It's nice to be in San Francisco. It's my hometown."

There's way more screaming. Drew smiles like he's regaining confidence. He scans the crowd, but there's no way it's anything but a sea of darkness from his view. And even if it's not, I'm way in the back. I can barely make out his expression.

" I talked my bandmates into letting me have a set with just me and the guitar. Tom tried to argue you all wouldn’t be excited by this private show, just me and my guitar. Is that so?" He smiles over the sounds of screams. "I promised this girl—"

The screams drown out everything else in the room. Drew melts under the attention. It takes him a moment to regain his confident posture.

He steps up to the mic. "Let's just say this is a special occasion."

He plays the opening of "No Way in Hell,” the songs Miles wrote about falling in love with Meg. Then he’s singing. His voice is beautiful. It's not polished. It's not hitting every note. It's not as showy or as energetic as when Miles sings, but it's raw and it's real and it's dripping with feeling.

The crowd is fucking insane. The reserved guitarist is suddenly in the spotlight. He's even singing.

He's singing for me.

He plays “Be Brave, Love.” He sings every single word.

Drew shifts, grabs the mic. He looks out to the crowd. "Let's not let Miles know how much you all prefer me, huh?" He smiles over the laughter and cheering. "I have one more song to sing—a cover. You'll like it. But first, I need your help. I need to find someone very important to me." Drew looks out at the crowd. "Kara Kendrick, where the fuck are you?"

Girls are screaming, cheering, swooning. There's a name for Drew's rumored girlfriend. I admit it. I read celebrity gossip.

Someone in the crowd screams something that sounds a lot like, “Is she your girlfriend?”

Drew blushes. He scans the crowd. “If she’ll have me, she’s my girlfriend.”

The fangirl squeals.

He wants me to be his girlfriend.

There must be six, seven hundred people here, and he’s telling all of them he wants me to be his girlfriend.

"Do me a favor." He motions for the crowd to part. "Make room for her."

It takes a minute but the crowd parts. There's an empty space going down the middle of the room. Must be three hundred people on each side of it and they're all waiting for me.

Drew motions to someone backstage. The spotlight cuts and something behind it flashes.

It's there in lights.

Drew and Kara Forever.

I melt.

I don't really have a choice. I move to the center of the room, to the line that's there just for me. One of the spotlights finds me. People gasp. It's like you can hear jaws dropping.

Drew's eyes find mine. I'm about ten feet from the stage, plus the five it's raised above the floor. I stare up at him. He stares back at me.

"Kara, come up here. Before the crowd gets restless and demands I strip to nothing."

The cheers are deafening. Drew makes a better frontman than I'd guess. But then offering to take off his clothes is a pretty powerful card to play.

The crowd chants. "Take it off! Take it off! Take it off!"

He blushes as he screams back. "Let's make a deal. You get her up here, and I will."

Someone pushes me forward. Then I'm being lifted and passed around. Weightless, hands on my back, moving me toward Drew. I'm stage diving from the damn floor.

There. I'm pushed onto the stage. My boots make contact with the ground.

His eyes find mine. "Where should I start?" He shrugs his guitar off his shoulders and hands it to me.

I hold tight.

He pulls his t-shirt over his head and tosses it on the ground.

The crowd screams.

Drew speaks into the mic. "The rest is only if this goes well." He winks at the crowd then looks back to me. "Kara, this is for you."

I hand back his guitar. He slings it over his shoulders. His eyes on mine, he strums.

The intro starts. It's a ballad. And it's familiar. Really familiar.

Holy shit, it's "Maybe I'm Amazed," by Paul McCartney. The song that pretty much screams
I Love You
.

He sings. His eyes close. His heart is in every line. His voice is dripping with feeling. It's sweet and clear and perfect.

My body goes into overdrive. Heart racing. Lungs stalling. Knees buckling.

His voice washes over me, mixing me up and making me warm all over.

I have nothing to hold onto, no way to steady myself. Drew is on a stage, singing for me. It shouldn't be this novel, what with him being a rock star. But he doesn't sing. He never sings. And he's interrupting his fucking concert to sing for me.

Drew's voice picks up, louder, dripping with even more feeling. He sounds good. Not like a professional singer. Rawer. Realer.

He plays the outro. His eyes blink open. He sets his guitar on the ground and grabs the mic.

He's five feet away.

His eyes are glued to mine. "Kara, I’m sorry this took me so long. I was terrified of ruining things. Terrified I’d lose you. Once I worked it out, it was obvious.”

I take a deep breath.

“I'm sure this isn't the best place to profess my feelings for you. But that's too bad because these words have been burning a fucking hole in my gut the last few days."

He takes a step, so he's two feet away.

“I love you. I’m madly in love with you.” His voice is sweet. “You are my everything. You mean more to me than anything in the fucking world. Hell, I’d give up the guitar before I’d give up you.”

There’s a mix of
aww
and
no fucking way
from the crowd.

Drew blushes. He turns to the audience. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” His eyes connect with mine. “I want you to be my girlfriend. I want the whole fucking world to know how much I love you.”

There's an
aww
from the crowd. People are clapping and cheering, but the only thing I can see is Drew.

The sincerity in his eyes.

The smile on his lips.

Drew. My Drew.

I take a step toward him. "Say it again."

"Answer first," he says. "I know it's high school and it's cheesy, but I want everything official. Will you be my girlfriend?"

"Yes. Of course."

He smiles. "I love you."

"I love you too."

He slings the mic over his shoulder. Then his arms are around me, pulling me close.

His lips press into mine.

He's mine.

All mine.

Always.

EPILOGUE

"Drew, I can't leave my graduation party."

This does not stop Drew. He squeezes my hand and sneaks me out the side door.

God, he looks good in a suit, cleaned up like the nice boy next door.

"We have a very important appointment." He presses his lips to mine. "And only an hour to catch up for the last two weeks."

"Why did your flight have to get in late? It's been torture seeing you in that suit all day."

"You like it?"

I nod, licking my lips like a puppy waiting for a treat.

"Not as much as I like that dress."

He holds me against the wall. His hands skim the neckline of my dress then dip below it. Oh God. The brush of his fingers against my nipples is enough to make my sex clench. Has it really only been two weeks? Feels like it's been two years.

He sucks on my neck. "Better stop before I fuck you right here."

"Where are we going?"

"That's a surprise before the surprise."

"And you're still not going to tell me?"

He nods with this mischievous smile. What am I getting myself into?

Drew's car is parked around the corner. Far enough away that no one will hear us leave. The man thinks of everything.

"You want to give me a hint?" I ask.

"It's for us."

"A better hint."

"It might hurt."

I stare at him, but there are no clues in his expression.

He squeezes my hand as he drives.

Actually being boyfriend/girlfriend is amazing. He's been on tour the last month and a half, but we haven't been apart for more than two weeks at a time. He visits or sends me a ticket to come for the weekend.

On other days, we make do with our cell phones and web cams. Drew can put on quite the show when he wants to.

And now that I'm officially done with my undergraduate degree, I'm coming on tour with him. Two months on the road with my rock star boyfriend.

"You have everything packed to leave in the morning?" He pulls onto Wilshire and drives twenty miles over the speed limit.

"Everything."

"I better find your suitcase and toss all the underwear."

"You really want me going without panties at a bunch of sweaty rock concerts?"

He nods. "My hands deserve a reward for all their hard work."

Dammit, he still makes me blush. He still makes my body go into overdrive. It's better now that I know he's really mine.

We drive for ten minutes and park at a hotel valet. Drew grabs an overnight backpack from the backseat and rushes out of the car. I nod to the valet as I step out. Between my royal blue commencement dress and his black suit, we stand out. At least no one will recognize Drew like this.

Nothing to delay our reunion.

He squeezes my hand all the way to the registration counter. He gives his assumed name—Bruce Wayne—and checks in. The clerk slides us two keys. We don't wait for the details. We go straight to the elevator.

The second the doors close, my hands are on him. I kiss him hard, sucking on his lip, plunging my tongue into his mouth. God, he tastes good. Familiar. Like Drew. Like home.

He slides his hands under my ass, lifting me and pressing me against the wall of the elevator. I wrap my legs around him, slide my arms around his shoulders.

"There's a camera in the ceiling." I press my neck against his lips.

"And?" He sinks his teeth into my skin. His hands get lost in the fabric of my tea-length dress. "Tell me you're not wearing panties."

"Only one way to find out."

The elevator dings at our floor. Drew groans. He shifts so I can feel his erection, then sets me down on my feet.

"Fuck, Kara. I missed you. I can barely walk."

I smile and look at the room information. "The room is only twenty feet away. You’ll make it.”

I find our suite and open the door with the electronic key. Drew whisks me inside, immediately pressing me against the door. He tugs at the skirt of my dress, still lost in the fabric.

"Well fuck this." He drops to his knees and ducks under the skirt. His fingers trail up my thighs. His mouth follows their path.

Then his mouth is on me. I'm
not
wearing any panties. He flicks his tongue against my clit. I'm so keyed up that it pushes me to the edge.

I find the dress's zipper, undo it, and pull the whole thing over my head.

Drew looks up at me. His eyes go wide. His hand trails up my stomach to my chest and toys with my nipples.

"You taste so fucking good." He flicks his tongue against my clit. "Better than I remembered."

I tug at his hair. It's a shame. This is the only time his hair has ever been neat and I'm making a mess of it. Somehow, I'm sure he doesn't mind.