Page 81 of One Time Only (One Time Only 1)
“He said he was going to share it with them tonight. His fans went crazy. They’re dying to hear it. I am too.”
The crowd roars again, a collective plea for the tune. I get it—I want to stomp my feet and beg for it too.
Stone shakes his head. “It’s not ready yet,” he booms into the mic. “Maybe someday. Will you wait for me?”
That’s enough for his fans. They cheer a deafening yes.
“You rock! How about an encore?” Before they can answer, he dives into one of his most famous tunes, and that gets them to stop asking about the new song.
It’s a song I might never hear. A song he may never play.
But it’s the song the guy in the picture wants to hear most in the world.
Candi sighs. “He’s been teasing them with it. He should just play the damn thing.”
“You know how it goes with inspiration,” I say, all casual, like it isn’t eating me alive too. Like I’m not dying to hear his song.
To ask him to play it for me.
Just for me.
But that is definitely against the code.
And I’m following the code now.When the show ends, Stone stalks straight to his dressing room, shuts the door, and doesn’t come out for much longer than usual.
Twenty minutes that feel like they last an ice age.
Candi’s tapping her foot, eager to go. “He’s got a VIP thing, and then a late-night interview.”
When he finally opens the door, his green eyes are cold, and they slay me. “I can’t do the interview tonight. Can you just reschedule it?”
She doesn’t protest, and that’s unlike her. She must be able to read the hard edge in him tonight. “I’ll take care of it for you, but you’ve got to do it tomorrow.”
“I will. I promise.”
Stone marches to the VIP room and does the meet and greet with smiles, grins, hugs, and pics. The same way he did the night before. And the night before that too.
And I’m howling inside. Missing him with every breath I take.
When he swaggers out of the VIP room, he yawns, big and long, like these are just more rock-star shenanigans and this day wasn’t a big deal to him after all.
Like I’m the only one who feels the void, the only one with this giant canyon of emptiness inside me.
“Go to bed, Stone,” Candi says softly.
He keeps his eyes on her, only her. “Yeah. Need to hit the sack. I had a shit day.”
I blink. That gives me another flicker of hope.
We both had awful days. He’s affected too, and that is awesome.
Except what the hell?
Why do I want to know he’s miserable as well?
Because it hurt that it seemed easy for him today when I ended it?
Then again, I made it seem easy for me. Like splitting up with him is as simple as rules and codes.
It is, but it’s also not. I didn’t simply fall for him, like I told him.
I fell in love with him.
Big, epic, messy, heart-wrenching love.
With a rock star.
God, I’m a cliché.
Candi reaches for his arm, ever the mama hen tending to her chicks. “Are you okay? Are you getting enough sleep? Are you doing your yoga?”
“I am. It’s not a yoga issue.” He doesn’t look at me at all, and I do my best to only look at him through professional eyes.
As we leave with Candi, I want to kick myself.
How did I ever think getting involved with my boss would be easy? I’m madly in love with the guy, and I can’t act on it. But I’ve never been able to act on it. This return to the old world order should be easy. This should be all I’ve ever known.
When we reach the elevator banks, Candi says good night and peels away. Soon we’re alone in the steel machine, shooting up several floors.
Stone barely makes eye contact with me. He leans against the wall and mutters, “Good show.”
“Great show,” I say, my voice wobblier than I’m used to.
He parts his lips to speak, but no words come.
He looks away and doesn’t meet my eyes again.
So, the way we were before we got involved is over too. The joking, the teasing, the poking fun at each other. That’s all gone.
And now we are this—quiet, tense, terrible.
We reach his room, and I say good night. He doesn’t look back.33StoneHell.
This is hell.
For six days in a row, I have woken up next to Jackson, and on the seventh day, I pat the side of my bed . . .
The big, empty, sad, depressing, awful, terrible side.
I pull the covers up, turn off my phone, and go back to sleep.
But the universe must hate me, because I wake twenty minutes later.
I drag my ass out of bed, order some food, and try to meditate.
But meditation hates me too, because all I can see, all I can think about, is Jackson.
