Page 7 of Hard Rock Desires

I never spoke about it. I usually never had to. Everyone who mattered already knew what had happened, because they’d been there. At first that was all anyone ever wanted to talk about. They pressured me to talk about it until I felt like screaming.

But time passed and wounds healed, and one day it felt like no one was ever going to talk about it again.

I should have felt relief, but as it turned out, silence was worse than speaking.

I didn’t know why I felt the urge to spill my guts. Maybe it was because he was a stranger and I’d never see him again. Maybe it was because I’d kept things bottled up for too long and now everything was spewing to the surface.

“My sister passed away,” I said.

His expression twisted in sympathy.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay,” I told him. “It was a while ago. But something happened tonight to remind me of what happened and I just—” I inhaled deeply and let it out. “I just needed air.”

“I get that.” He nodded slowly. “Sometimes random shit brings up bad feelings or whatever.”

It wasn’t the most eloquent way of putting it, but he was exactly right. The most random ‘shit.’ Like a spilled vodka tonic.

But it wasn’t always bad feelings that got stirred up.

“Sometimes I smell something or see something and it reminds me of happier times with her,” I said. “I suppose I have to take the good with the bad.”

“That’s a very mature way of looking at it,” he said. “I just repress shit, like everyone else.”

I looked at him, shocked and saddened, until I saw the brazen grin on his face. I laughed lightly and lifted my eyes, staring up at the night sky. I couldn’t see many stars.

“That’s not very healthy, you know,” I told him. “Repression can come back to bite you.”

“You sound like a therapist.”

I’d spoken with enough of them to know the lingo, that was for sure.

“Is that why you needed some air?” I asked him. “Was something bothering you?”

The corners of his lips dipped into a frown briefly before he turned a cocky smirk on me.

“Too many women climbing all over me,” he said. “I needed to duck outside before a cat fight broke out.”

“Someone’s popular with the ladies?” I shouldn’t have been surprised. This guy would have been hot under normal circumstances. Add in the leather pants and eyeliner and it blew his attractiveness into the stratosphere.

“What can I say, love, I’ve got a gift.” He tilted his chin up smugly. “I can’t help it if women find me irresistible.”

“You have no great lack of modesty, do you?” I said.

“Modesty?” He tilted his head and feigned confusion. “What’s that?”

I snorted and looked away. I should have known a guy as hot as him knew exactly how good-looking he was.

“What was that thing you said before?” he asked.

“Which one?” I asked. “I said a few different things.” I assumed he wasn’t talking about how I’d mocked his lack of modesty.

“The thing about taking the good with the bad,” he said.

“Oh.” I thought back. “I just meant that even though sometimes memories can be painful, they can also help, too. Just like how a certain smell or the sight of something familiar might make you sad, you can purposely do things that remind you of the good times.” I looked down at my sneakers again, but with a smile this time. “It might be painful, but if that pain comes with memories of better times, it’s worth it.”

“Is it?” he asked, sounding incredulous.