EPIC (Book 1 of the Soundcrush series)

Chapter 9: Rock Stars Have Secrets

Trace

Kat saunters out the door, and I stare after her, feeling kinda...torqued. This has been an intense twenty-four hours for me. First, desperately wanting to see Kat, then desperately trying to chill in bed and not act like an oversexed maniac, then feeling desperately happy that we somehow naturally worked out that she's staying another night.

Not even in all the bullshit with Ashlynn over the last two years, did I ever feel truly desperate before. Not the way I feel with Kat.

I don't do desperate.

I do sex, booze, and rocknroll. It's too early for booze, and the rocknroll is not until tonight. That leaves me with one typical go-to, for stress relief. God, I need to get laid. Unfortunately, I don't think sex with Kat is on the table, not today. Probably not tonight. Probably not until she breaks up with that guy. The idea that I might have to wait until we clear the air about Ashlynn makes my skin crawl with anxiety. That could be a very long time. I'm not sure I can wait that long.

I wander back to the bedroom, and pump out a few push-ups to ease my tension, but the exertion makes my head pound again, so I quit. I pace, restless. I don't usually have this much time on my hands the day of a show. Normally I'd have morning press, but the management team don't want me on the local morning news looking like I got punched in the head last night. I wonder what excuse they'll give for my absence? Doesn't matter, as long as Leed isn't pissed at Adam the interview will go fine. As far as I could tell, they've been cool the last few days.

Waking up beside Kat this morning fulfilled every one of my early morning expectations of the last two and half years. It's like all those other mornings I woke up missing her were a bad dream, and only this is real. I don't know how things are going to go after today so I'll just gladly stay here in the moment. I'm anxious for the guys to get back from press and get our schedule nailed down for the day, so I know how much time I have with Kat.

I get a text from Adam.

Found something that belongs to you roaming the halls.

He must mean Kat. I'm sure he thinks we had hot sex, and he wants to give me a little shit, but he's reading me wrong if he thinks I'm going to give details. Kat's not some fangirl that I'm going to laugh about with the guys. Not that we do that every time. Only sometimes do we talk about the girls, and only when the girl is really crazy in bed. But the longer we live this lifestyle, the harder it is to top the last crazy fangirl story. Bragging about the conquests is getting old.

So I text back, trying to be as cool as possible about it.

That kitty Kat is off limits. No sharing. Stories or otherwise.

The reply is automatic.

I hear ya, brother. But I meant Big Sister.

Ashlynn. Fuck.

I can't believe she came here. She avoids Atlanta like the plague. She really must be desperate.

I call him immediately.

"She with you?"

"Nah, man. I'm at the press thing. I wouldn't give her your room number. I left her in my room."

"That was brave."

"I got you covered. You did the same for me, with Mac."

"It's not the same. Not at all."

"No, it's not, but it's the least I can do."

Ashlynn is pacing when I get in the room. She's frazzled and hurting, but she looks better than the last time I saw her. If Kat were here she'd think Ashlynn was a mess—stringy dirty blond hair and shapeless clothes over her entirely too-skinny frame, instead of the glossy golden curls and neat outfits she used to wear back in high school. People that didn't know her back then would just take it for that Boho—Coachella kind of style and say she's a hot hippie-chick.