Boy #1: The Wannabe Rockstar (Oh, Those Boys) Page 9

  “Whose house is this?” she asked, then hissed when she banged her knee against her heavy messenger bag. Micah took it from her, shouldering it himself, and her heart melted a little more.

  “Tyler's,” he answered, yanking her up close to him. “He comes from money. This is our practice space – he built a studio upstairs, off his bedroom.”

  “It's amazing,” she admitted. “I love it.”

  “Oh yeah? Better than a shitty one bedroom apartment?”

  She laughed and looked up at Micah.

  “Seriously? You're jealous of a housing compliment?” she snickered. “I've never seen your apartment, Micah, so I can't exactly compare the two.”

  He glared at her for a second, then dipped his head and gave her a hard kiss.

  “Holy shit, Micah and the party girl!”

  Startled by the intrusion, Cass jerked her head back, looking around them. Tyler stood close by, two red Solo cups in his hands, gawking at them.

  “She has a name,” he informed his lead singer. “It's Cassie St. John.”

  “That's right, bad ass last name,” Tyler nodded his head. “Glad you could make it. Awesome gig earlier.”

  “You guys made it awesome,” she responded. “I wish I could've danced with everyone else.”

  “Maybe next gig?” he asked hopefully, and she nodded.

  “Definitely. Just let me know when and where, and I'm there.”

  “Rad. Keep this one, Micah. We like her,” Tyler said in a stern voice, then laughed.

  “Good to know. I'm still trying to decide,” Micah teased. She smacked him in the chest.

  “How do you guys put up with him?” she sighed dramatically. “I'm always caught between kicking his ass and -”

  She cut herself off with a shriek, as what felt like a wall of red wine slammed across her face. Her eyes clamped shut instantly, her hands going up too late to protect herself. She heard Micah let out a shout, his arm going around her waist and protectively pulling her close. Tyler shouted, as well. Then she felt a napkin being rubbed across her face.

  “I'm fine,” she gasped, though she wasn't sure at all if that was true. She took over wiping duties and opened her eyes. “I'm okay.”

  “What the fuck, Siv!?” Tyler was growling.

  Cass tried to quickly assess the situation. Tyler was now only holding one cup – the other was in the hand of a very angry looking woman. A tall, thin brunette girl, who was probably extremely pretty when she wasn't sneering and glaring. Her fiery gaze was turned on Cassie, and she couldn't figure out why – she'd never met the woman before in her life.

  “I ruined my relationship for you!” the girl, Siv, growled through clenched teeth, then she gestured to Cassie. “And you ignore me for this? Miss Pretty Princess Doll!?”

  Cassie's jaw dropped.

  “I don't know what you're talking about,” she argued. “Or what's even going on, but you had no right -”

  “Fuck off, Siv,” Tyler interrupted. “Cassie's a friend of mine, she was invited here. Unlike you.”

  “Oh yeah? Shane invited me.”

  “Doubtful,” Micah snorted. “Not cool, Siv. Apologize.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “OKAY!” Cassie shouted, holding up her hands. “I don't give a shit about Shane or invitations or apologies – I just want to know what the fuck is going on!”

  “I'll tell you what's going on.”

  A man materialized out of the growing crowd of onlookers. He seemed vaguely familiar, then Cass remembered he was a member of the band. The bass player.

  Shane.

  “Don't do this here,” Micah warned in a low voice, and his arm fell away from Cassie's waist.

  “Why not here? Don't want your new piece of ass to know?” Shane sneered. Cass refused to blush. She finished mopping up the wine from her face and hairline, then threw the napkins onto the ground.

  “Trust me, his 'piece of ass' already knows all the bad parts of him. Nothing you can say will frighten me,” she snapped back. Her and Micah weren't exactly best friends, but she did feel something for him, and she wasn't about to let this asshole insult or intimidate him.

  “Oh yeah? You think you know so much? Do you know he fucked my girlfriend just a couple nights ago!?” Shane yelled.

  There was a collective gasp from the crowd around them, and she could tell Micah went stiff at the accusation. But Cass hadn't been lying, she knew the worst parts of Micah. Hell, those were the only parts of him she knew, and she still liked him. She rolled her eyes.

  “Know it? I had to listen to it. Seems to me like the person you should have a problem with is your girlfriend. She's the one fucking other people without her boyfriend's permission.”

  Now the crowd let out an ooohhh, and Micah barked out a laugh. He wasn't looking at his bassist anymore. All his attention was turned on her, and he looked happy. Maybe even a little ... proud.

  “You calling my girlfriend a slut!?” Shane demanded, balling his hands into fists.

  “If the slutty title fits,” Cassie shrugged her shoulders. His nostrils flared, then he stomped right up into her face.

  “That's real rich, seeing as how you must be a slut if you're fucking someone like him.”

  The accusation was poorly worded and hilarious at worst, Cass was ready to laugh loudly in his face. She wasn't given a chance, though – when the bass player crouched to get eye to eye with her, Micah finally took a step forward. His arm came between them, keeping the other man at bay.

  “Hey, cool it,” he ordered. “Your deal is with me, not her. Get out of her face.”

  “Oh, I'll deal with you later,” Shane assured him. “But right now, this bitch is the one giving me shit, so I'll deal with her now.”

  “You 'deal with her', and you are dealing with me,” Micah warned him, pressing his hand flat on his band mate's chest.

  “Sensitive about this one?” Shane asked, narrowing his eyes. “What, her pussy made of gold? Must be, to interest a fucking pervert like you. Must be a fucking hell of a lay.”

  “Hey!” Cassie shouted, tired of being spoken about like she wasn't there. “I'm sorry your girlfriend couldn't keep it in her pants, but that is no reason to be an asshole to me!”

  “Say something about my girlfriend again!” Shane yelled, then he reached out and shoved her roughly in the shoulder.

  All hell broke loose after that, Cassie couldn't even quite follow it all. She stumbled back from his push, a little in shock. Then she blinked, and Micah was bent over, ramming his shoulder into Shane's chest. The two men went down, Shane's feet going out from under him and into the air, Micah's weight falling on top of him. Tyler was shouting, trying to break up the fight, and the slutty girlfriend was shrieking, pounding on Micah's back.

  What the fuck is going on? How did I go from a successful, professional evening party with the mayor and his family, to some sort of brawl in a garage?

  A couple other guys in the crowd – other band members – came forward, and they were able to pull the two guys apart. Micah was pushed back into Cassie, and though his shirt was torn and his hair was messy, he looked none the worse for wear. Shane, on the other hand, had a bloody nose, lips, and a rapidly swelling eye.

  “Stop!” Cass hissed, wrapping both her arms around one of Micah's and yanking him backwards away from the building. “Stop it!”

  “No! No, fuck that guy! He put his hands on you!” he was shouting, struggling against her hold. “I'm gonna rip his fucking head off!”

  “And I'm thrilled, honestly,” she ground her teeth together and dug her heels in. “But it looks like you've already done a good job of beating him to a pulp, so maybe just calm the fuck down for now.”

  They were down the driveway by then, and Micah finally stopped straining towards the house. The lack of resistance brought her up short, causing her to stumble and let him go. The instant she did, his hands were in his hair, and he strode down to the sidewalk. She scooped up her messenger bag from the ground, the
n had to jog to catch up to him.

  “He fucking touched you,” Micah was panting, she realized, when she was finally close enough to hear. “He fucking put his hands on you. Motherfucker.”

  “Hey,” she breathed, reaching out and gently touching his arm, as if he were a wild animal. “Hey, I'm alright. Honestly. I'm okay.”

  “Are you joking?” he shouted, jerking away from her. “Look at you! You look like a fucking murder victim!”

  Cassie glanced down at herself, then snorted and laughed. She really did; dark red was splashed all over her front, from chest to hem line. She wouldn't be surprised if even her hair looked like a bad dye job. Apparently, that cup had been full to the brim with red wine.

  “It's kinda punk,” she teased. “I think it makes me fit in even more with your friends.”

  “Fuck that,” Micah snarled. “And fuck these guys. I try to show you a good time, and look what fucking happens.”

  She was stunned. He wasn't upset about the fight – he was upset about her.

  “I was having a good time,” she assured him. “Honestly, Micah. I like hanging out with you. This was just ... just a bump in the night. It's not a big deal.”

  “Not a big deal?” he barked out a laugh. It sounded harsh, and she winced, taking a step back from him. “Look at your fucking dress, Cass.”

  “So? It's just a dress.”

  “'Just a dress',” he mocked her. “I know how you are about clothes, St. John, and this one is ruined.”

  She frowned.

  “And how, exactly, am I about clothes, Micah?”

  “That stain isn't going to come out,” he snapped, gesturing to the wine all over her. “That dress is fucked. How much did it cost you? One paycheck? Two?”

  Cassie winced again, as if she'd been slapped. Is that really what Micah thought of her? That she was her clothes? Sure, she liked to look good – but so did everybody. Including Micah, hence his whole punk, rock god look. Why was it different for her?

  “It doesn't matter how much it cost,” she spoke in a low voice. “It's just clothing. Just a dress.”

  “Oh, yeah, sure, okay. Just a dress. I've seen your closet, Cass. I see you every day. It's not 'just clothing' to you.”

  “Then enlighten me – what is it to me?”

  “It's you,” he snapped. “This whole ... fucking ... thing, it's all you. And my stupid fucking friends ruined it, and now you're gonna be pissed. I fucking hate that.”

  Well, Micah for sure had one thing right. Cassie was pissed. She glared at him for a second longer, then whirled away. Marched off down the sidewalk towards a busy cross street.

  He yelled after her, something else insulting, she was sure. But she didn't listen. She took a bunch of deep breaths, trying to stave off tears, and she draped her bag's strap across her body.

  So that's what he really thinks of me. I'm a walking wardrobe who happens to be good in bed. Grand. Fantastic. Motherfucker.

  7

  “So how badly did you fuck up?”

  Micah glanced up from his guitar, watching as Tyler sank into a sofa across from him. Micah himself was sitting sideways in a lounge chair, his legs draped over the arm rest. He'd been mindlessly plucking out a tune on the strings, but he stopped when his singer had broken his concentration.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, gripping the neck of the instrument and laying it against his chest.

  “With Cassandra,” Tyler said. Micah lifted his eyebrows, feigning ignorance.

  “Huh?”

  A guitar pick was thrown at his forehead.

  “C'mon, man, I saw you two,” Tyler groaned.

  “Saw us at a party at your house, with a bunch of other people. So?”

  “Saw you come together,” Tyler pointed out. “Saw you kissing. Holding hands. Saw you sneak off together at her fancy event – and I doubt it was to discuss place settings. You guys are more than just neighbors.”

  Micah frowned and looked back down at his guitar. He didn't know what he and Cassie were, and hadn't for a while now. Everything was so fucked up, and he'd made it worse the night before; now he had no clue where they stood.

  “Barely,” he admitted, keeping his tone flat and even, not wanting to give anything away. “We've slept together a couple ... okay, a lot, of times this past year. You know how it is – she's hot and available and right next door. It was easy, no big deal.”

  “Yeah, okay. Seemed like a pretty big fucking deal last night. You broke Shane's nose and knocked out one of his crowns.”

  “Good.”

  “Micah. C'mon. This is me. Stop pouting and tell me what's going on.”

  “I'm not pouting,” Micah snapped. They glared at each other for a moment, then he took a deep breath. “And I don't know what's going on, that's part of the problem. It used to be we'd just bump into each other and fuck. Seriously. I went down to do laundry one day, and next thing I know, she's on her knees in front of a dryer and I'm seeing stars as she sucks my dick dry. Another time, I went over just to get some milk for cereal, and wound up spreading half the desserts in her freezer across her body. The chick is insane in the sack, it's incredible.”

  “Jesus, wish I'd met her first.”

  “You do wish,” Micah growled. “And it was all awesome, right? I mean, random spontaneous sex? It was like Christmas every other day, fucking rad. But then she was in that conference room the other week, and it was like ... like ...”

  “Like she wasn't just a blow up sex doll anymore?” Tyler guessed. Micah groaned and rubbed his hands down his face.

  “Yes. She was all real, but also still sexy, but in real life. And I suddenly realized other people probably thought she was sexy, too, and I was like 'hey wait, this is sexy only for me', which is fucking stupid. I know it's stupid, I do, because I was totally fucking other girls the whole time we were sleeping together.”

  “And she wasn't fucking other guys?”

  “No,” Micah answered. He'd never discussed it with Cass, but he just knew it was true. “And I'd always figured it was whatever, just that she didn't want to, but probably would some day. But now ... not it's not 'whatever', and it's probably going to happen any day now because that Josh dude likes her, and I can't fucking stand the thought of it.”

  “Gotcha. So what you're trying to say with all that bullshit is, you like her,” Tyler boiled it all down.

  “I think I do,” Micah breathed. Then he shook his head. “But I can't figure out why. We're so fucking different, bro. She's like a beauty contestant, and I'm just some gutter quasi-punk guitarist. She'd hate anything I'd be into, so it just seems pointless to even -”

  “Whoa,” Tyler held up his hand. “That's not true. She likes our kind of music, she said so that first time we – or I guess technically just I – met her. She frickin' loved our show at that party. Everyone in the band but Shane loves her, and he would, too, if it weren't for his bitchy girlfriend. She's nice to everyone, all the time, and seems down to have a good time. She puts up with your moody ass. Why do you think she'd hate the stuff you're into? She already likes most of it.”

  Micah sat up and blinked his eyes rapidly in surprise. That couldn't be true. Could it?

  He'd always viewed Cass as a sort of stone cold ice bitch. With her posh accent and her fancy clothing. Her smart mouth and her acerbic sense of humor. Snob, that was the label he'd always put on her. But really, she'd never seriously judged him for anything he did, or any of the clothing he wore, or the music he liked. Teased him, sure, but never judged.

  Meanwhile, he'd been calling her a snob since day one, and why?

  Because of the way she fucking dresses and talks. I'm the snob, and I realized it too late, because after the way I treated her last night, she's never gonna talk to me again.

  “You think I should seriously go for it?” Micah asked, tapping his pick against his bottom lip.

  “Uh, there's a hot chick who lives next door to you, puts up with you, and apparently fucks you right whenever you
breathe in her direction. I'm trying to figure out why you're even still here.”

  Micah began to wonder, too. Then he remembered what day it was, and he let out an angry yell, dropping his head into his hands.

  “Fuck,” he swore. “She's going out with him.”

  “Him? Him who?” Tyler sounded confused.

  “Event dickhole,” Micah growled. “Josh whatshisface.”

  “Oh, shit,” Tyler burst out laughing. “Your girl is going out with Mr. Perfect?”

  The nickname sent a chill through Micah's brain. That's what he'd nicknamed Cassie's ex – Mr. Perfect. He'd seen the guy a time or two in the hallways. Tall, blond, athletic, well dressed, rich. Basically a doppleganger for Josh, which meant Josh was exactly her type.

  The only box Micah checked off was tall, and even at that, he maybe only had an inch or two over Josh. Not enough to make him better.

  No. No, I don't believe that, because even though she agreed to dinner with him, she's still sleeping with me. Still came to that party with me. Still went to my church with me.

  “Yeah, she is,” Micah stood up and pulled his guitar strap over his head. “But after tonight, hopefully not anymore.”

  “That's my man,” Tyler clapped his hands together and stood up. “Josh is a cool guy, but he ain't got nothing on you.”

  “You think?”

  “Um ...”

  Micah kicked him squarely in the shin.

  “Nice talking to you, Ty.”

  “Fuck you.”

  8

  Cassie dressed with care for her dinner with Josh.

  Then she thought about the things Micah had said to her, and got self-conscious. Tossed her carefully chosen outfit into a corner, and pulled out entirely different pieces. Felt strange in the new ensemble, then chucked it, too.

  By then, it was almost eight o'clock, and she wound up just rushing into something basic. A pair of expensive skinny jeans, a loose blouse tucked in, ankle boots, dangly necklace, and her trench coat. It was probably the most underdressed she'd ever been for an evening with a man.