Page 5 of The Long Refrain (Sweet Southern #4)

5

BENJI

FEbrUARY 2027

T he Nolan effect. Something about him makes me crazy, makes me behave in a way that’s so absolutely opposite of myself. I’m Sunshine. I’m jokes and teasing and the one friend that no one ever has to worry about because I say what I mean and mean what I say. But holy fuck, Nolan makes me see red.

Maybe something inside Nolan echoes inside of me.

I don’t know how long they’ve got me out here for, but it’s not going to be long enough to wear Nolan down.

Nolan mumbles in his sleep like he did the last time we shared a bed. I listen for words, but they’re still all nonsensical at this point. The fire is still on in the bedroom that faces the Hollywood Hills. Lights glitter in the distance since the sun still has a while before rising. It had been surprisingly easy to get Nolan to fall asleep late last night. The key seems to be a warm lavender bath, a heavy make-out session, and then wrapping him in my arms like a feisty, tattooed burrito.

Not long after falling asleep, he pulled himself out of my embrace to flop on his stomach on the other side of the bed. Even in his sleep, he hates being touched without his permission. I can’t fault him because I’ve seen all the videos of fans grabbing him. Between fans, photoshoots, and tattoos… I’m starting to think that maybe Nolan doesn’t feel like his body belongs to him.

I carefully roll over onto my side to grab my phone. Dimming the brightness, I swipe through my notifications to land on my text chain with Eli.

Me: Are you up?

Eli: Sadly

Me: I think I’m already in too deep with Nolan

Eli: Uhmmm… Explain

Me: I don’t know! He makes me feel like someone else

Eli: ……………

Eli: Explain further

Me: I’m a total top with him

Eli: Okay

Me: I’m not usually THIS toppy

Eli: Sounds like you’ve got a fun dynamic going on idk bud

Eli: Is he still biting

Me: Yes

Me: Hard

Eli: Yikes

Eli: Bite back

Me: I DO

Eli: You should tell Jackson

Me: No, not yet. Just me and you for a while. Then I’ll tell Trevor.

Eli: IDK why you’re afraid of Jackson

Me: DADDY!

Eli: Gross

Eli: More like Papa

Me: Yeah true

Eli: gotta go sunshine

Me: ELI

Eli: love you

I love my friends so much, but I always feel disconnected from them, even when in the same room. Maybe it’s the years growing up on the commune, but I never quite feel like I belong. Plus, I’m always just the comedic relief, so it doesn’t feel natural for me to share feelings or emotions. But sometimes I wish I could, especially now that I’m getting more and more tangled up with Nolan. I wish it was easier for me to share how I feel with Eli, Trevor, or even Jackson.

Blowing a wheezy breath through my nose, I roughly toss my phone onto the bed beside me. Nolan moves around restlessly, so I carefully roll onto my side, gently resting my hand at the small of his still sleep-warm back. He settles under my touch and tucks his head into the crook of his arm with a soft huff.

Well, now’s the time for me to be sneaky. I use the peaceful quiet of morning to quietly catalog his body, noting all the varying colorful tattoos that cover his skin. The ones over his ribs are rapidly becoming my favorites. The flowers are so intricate, beautifully tattooed as if watercolors on his skin. Those damn skeleton hands are probably runner-ups. Along the expanse of his back is a Grim Reaper with a scythe, his arm reaching out as if trying to take the person looking at Nolan’s back to the depths of hell.

“Stop staring at my tats,” Nolan says gruffly.

“They’re pretty.”

“They’re expensive,” Nolan argues. “Part of the rockstar aesthetic.”

“Don’t you like them?” I ask, running my finger over the broad lines of the reaper.

Nolan shrugs hard as he turns his head in my direction. “They’re fine.”

“What’s your viewpoint on morning kisses?” I want to kiss him so badly.

Nolan’s nose wrinkles even further. “Too intimate.”

“Bummer,” I say sadly.

Nolan’s eyebrows furrow as he carefully appraises me. With a large, put-upon sigh, he heaves himself up onto his elbows and leans over me. His dark messy hair beautifully frames his face. I can’t help but tangle one of my hands in the wavy strands, softly rubbing my thumb at the underside of his defined jaw. There’s an old scar overlapping his left eyebrow that’s faded with age, but it looks like he’s cut a line clear through his eyebrow because of it. Aesthetics, he’d probably say.

Nolan leans down to softly brush his lips over mine, a gentle, barely there kind of kiss. My toes tingle as his lips glide over mine. I fight back every instinct to pull him closer, to delve into his mouth to taste him. Maybe he is right; maybe early morning kisses are too intimate for us, at least at this moment.

He pulls away with a weary sigh to flop back on the bed. His gaze cuts to me as he tangles his fingers in the silky soft sheets.

“What do you normally do on days off?” I ask curiously.

Nolan snorts with a roll of his eyes. “Days off? Far and few between. You’re just here because I’m almost at the end of recording and they want to keep me happy.”

“Who is ‘they’?”

“The gods that be.” Nolan turns his head towards me with a calculating, slightly manic sort of look. “There’s a dive bar an hour from here that has great local talent. Wanna go?”

“Hell yeah!” I say around a delighted grin.

Nolan’s eyes get that confused look again before he rubs it away with the heels of his hands. The urge to feed him again is almost unbearable. He looks so fucking tired, despite the vivid color of the tattoos. His skin has this slightly sick pallor to it and there are huge dark bags under his eyes. Sometimes when he moves he seems exhausted just by breathing, just by having to walk a few feet.

“Can I cook breakfast?”

Nolan rolls his eyes. “Can you?”

I grit my teeth against a sarcastic reply. “May I cook you breakfast?”

Nolan points towards the door. “Have at it. I’m going to go back to sleep, so you can bring it to me.”

Nolan burrows back under the blankets with a huff as he tugs the sheets over his head. I leave him to “go back to sleep.” After slipping on my sweatpants, I pad down the hallway to get started on breakfast. The easiest option is scrambled eggs and toast, which is probably more nutrients than Nolan normally gets on a daily basis. I end up adding some cream cheese to the eggs to make them fluffier and a little fattier. A few ripe avocados sit at the bottom of the crisper drawer, so I add them to the toast like the spoiled yuppie I’ve become. At least that’s what Mama says.

Nolan is still curled into a ball under the sheets when I return to the bedroom.

“Breakfast,” I call out.

Nolan peeks his head out from under the blanket to judge the food options. He sniffs once, twice, then shrugs as if in awful acceptance of the meal. I sit down crisscross applesauce beside him and dig into my own plate of eggs. Nolan accepts the fork I offer him with a weary, cornered-animal sort of look. But after the first bite of eggs, his shoulders lose their tension and he shovels the food down as if I might take it away before he can finish his share.

He even eats the avocado toast. It takes everything inside me to not beam with pride.

“That was good,” Nolan says with great reluctance.

“Eggs are good for you.”

Nolan snorts. “Are you a nutritionist?”

“I just believe in getting a well-rounded diet to fuel my body. Eat the rainbow and all that.”

“I bet that’s shit your moms say.”

I smile at the mention of my moms. He’s right. That is shit they say.

“My mom does believe in eating the rainbow.”

“Awful euphemism in certain contexts.” Nolan wiggles his eyebrows obnoxiously.

“We’re up with the sun. What should we do?”

Nolan tiredly points towards the backyard. “Go swim some of your golden retriever out. I’ll watch.”

I do love to swim and he has a nice pool. The sun just starts to break over the horizon, splashing the sky with pinks and purples as I walk naked out to the pool. I can practically feel Nolan’s eyes on me the entire walk. Dipping my toes into the warm water, I turn my head over my shoulder to meet Nolan’s heavy gaze. When I toss him a grin, he scowls and shoos me along with a wave of his hand.

Diving into the water, I break through the surface with a pleased sigh. It’s the perfect temperature, almost like bath water. I swim a few laps to warm up, then do exactly as Nolan said. My muscles burn as I swim back and forth without pausing, thinking over the past twelve hours at this hidden mansion in the hills. Thoughts of Nolan and the way he was with me last night run on repeat in my head. Figuring him out is going to be impossible.

I only stop swimming when Nolan’s figure shimmers through the turquoise water. Coming to a stop at the edge, I rest my arms against the pool deck while gasping in much-needed air. Nolan stares down at me in serious contemplation. He’s still only wearing those loose sweatpants that always look one breath away from falling to the floor.

“You’ve been swimming nonstop for thirty minutes,” Nolan points out, sounding just shy of petulant.

I grin up at him as I wipe water from my face. “You told me to swim my golden retriever out.”

“I was joking.”

I frown. “Oh.”

Nolan casts his gaze out to the hills spread out behind his house. Something in his eyes hurts me; his gaze is beyond tortured. He always looks one moment away from spilling some dangerous secret that might tear him apart to speak aloud. I reach out to curl my fingers around his warm ankle, and smile when his skin is warm beneath my touch.

“Join me,” I whisper softly.

Nolan angrily kicks my fingers away with a snarl. But he shoves his sweatpants down to the ground, kicking them off towards the sunning chairs. He doesn’t jump into the pool like I did, instead he slowly walks in on the stairs. The sun hits the water at just the right angle so that he looks like some sort of miserable god returning to their ocean kingdom. He’s stunningly beautiful, despite the pain that radiates from his very core.

“What?” Nolan asks roughly as he pauses in front of me.

“You’re beautiful,” I say and immediately regret it.

But Nolan doesn’t hiss or spit at me, instead he flushes slightly and looks away. I curl my palms around his slim hips and tug him closer, until he’s close enough that I can smell the rich amber scent of him. His fingers dig into the meat of my back as I kiss along his neck. Pulse pounding beneath my lips, I grin against the skeleton fingers tattoo. When I take his ear between my lips and suck, his breath stutters out of him, his fingers digging even more painfully into my back where the deep scratch marks from last night are still fresh.

I bite down hard on his lobe and Nolan presses closer until I can feel his cock growing warm and heavy against my leg in the chlorinated water.

“Don’t call me by my full name,” Nolan whispers into my hair. I tug away from him, but he lifts a hand to the back of my head to hold me to him. “Don’t look at me right now.”

“Why?” I whisper back.

“That’s the name people use when they think I belong to them. Don’t call me that.”

“Is that why you reacted the way you did last night?”

Nolan shrugs enough for me to feel the uneasy movement. “I don’t know.”

But I can tell he’s lying. He does know. He just doesn’t want to spill more truth than he already has this morning. I tug against his grip on my head and press my mouth to his in a warm, drowsy kind of kiss. Nolan whimpers into my mouth as I back him up against the edge of the pool. I curl a protective arm around the back of his neck so his head doesn’t hit the edge. Another whimper escapes Nolan when I change the kiss from drowsy to demanding, plunging my tongue into him to lick every crevice, to own his mouth with mine.

I pull away from him panting, finally meeting his half-lidded gaze. “When I’m here, you belong to me.”

Nolan slowly closes his eyes to blot me out. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

I squeeze my arm tighter around his neck. “To me,” I growl.

“Fine, Benji,” Nolan relents, sounding tired beyond belief.

I kiss him again because I can, because at this moment he’s hurting and I want to fix it. That’s what I do. I fix everything for everyone, keep them smiling, keep them happy. It’s all I’ve ever known. Sunshine personified. We kiss long enough for Nolan to lose patience with it. He finally shoves me away with a tired, frustrated sort of look.

I watch him flee the pool, his fingers flexing at his side as he strides naked and uncaring back into his bedroom. God, he makes no sense. And he makes me act in a way that I’ve never acted before. Makes me feel territorial, possessive. I don’t know how to contain it to keep him from being angry with me. I’m just here to fuck him when he needs the release, when he’s gone too long without human touch.

Giving him what he needs, while simultaneously getting what I want, is going to be the hardest game I’ve ever played.

“My best friend has a G-Wagon too,” I tell Nolan as I climb into his Mercedes.

“Oh yeah?” Nolan asks, totally disinterested.

I nod quickly while buckling myself in. “Yeah, Jackson. He’s got a matte black one. It’s his baby.”

A hint of a smile tugs up the corners of Nolan’s mouth. “The matte ones are nice.”

“Right?”

Nolan hums as he pulls out of the gate surrounding his home. I tried to cook dinner for us but Nolan had waved me off, saying something about eating snacks at the dive bar. I’d not quite believed him that it would be enough, so I ate one of the protein bars I found in his pantry. Next time I’m here I need to bring my protein shakes with me or maybe his grocery crew could grab me some.

Nolan had tossed an outfit to me, perfectly my size and ordered I’d wear it. Black skinny jeans and a black T-shirt that hugs all the muscles on my torso. When I’d walked out of the bathroom, Nolan had almost smiled at the sight of me. Nolan wears something similar, but he has a silver chain around his neck with a crucifix. Artful rips dot his jeans showing peeks of his myriad of tattoos. He’s hot as sin and I want to fuck him again.

“Why are you an escort?” Nolan asks, apropos of nothing.

I turn slightly in the passenger seat so I can let the full weight of my gaze fall on him. Nolan squirms slightly in his seat, but otherwise remains unaffected.

“I like to fuck and I’m good at it, might as well be paid to do it.”

Nolan laughs and my heart triples in size. Oh, he has a nice laugh. Just as deep as his voice. It rolls through me and lights me up inside. He bites the corner of his lip and flicks his gaze quickly to me, before returning it to the road.

“Guess that’s a good enough answer as any.”

“What would you be if you weren’t a rockstar?”

Nolan taps the steering wheel thoughtfully. “One of those guys who run the rental chair business at the beach.”

The answer is so shocking that a laugh startles out of me. “What?”

Nolan nods slowly. “You know, those guys who charge like twenty bucks for a chair at the beach? I’d do that. Just have a nice little business so that I could spend all day by the ocean.”

“I think that’s the most original answer to that question ever.”

Nolan turns the music dial up to signal he’s finished with the conversation. Heavy rock music fills the inside of the car, but I can tell it’s not his music. I’ve spent the past few months listening to Nolan on repeat. While his music is definitely heavy rock, he sings lighter ballads sometimes. Those are my favorites. The songs that showcase his low, sultry but sad voice. But the songs where he screams and yells are also good, probably better for the people that like that sort of thing.

The remainder of the way to the dive bar is silent. Nolan parks in one of the remaining empty spots without any fanfare. For a Sunday night, the place is packed. It’s a small joint, painted black, with a neon sign that flashes The Anti-Social . Nolan hops out of the car without a backward glance toward me, all but forcing me to hustle out of the car to sprint after him. He aims the key fob over his shoulder to lock the car, then pauses in the middle of the packed parking lot to stare blankly at me.

In the darkness, surrounded by cars, with the pulse thumping around us from the dive bar, Nolan tugs me to him to press a rough kiss against my mouth. His kiss steals the breath from me like he’s sucking the air out for his own parched lungs. When he pulls away from me, his eyes are dark and that miserable look he often wears is back on his too-beautiful face. Angrily swiping his hand across his mouth, he shoves me back a step with two fingers against my chest.

“Don’t touch me in there. No matter what. Okay?”

With that lone demand, Nolan stalks off towards the bar before I can even summon an answer. I follow him inside, walking as close to him as I dare. As long as I can still smell him, I figure I’m close enough. Bright red and blue neon signs flash over the walls. The bar smells familiar, like sweat and beer.

Heavy rock music drifts from the stage that’s surrounded by people milling around. The words from the band are muffled, barely understandable to my untrained, untalented ears. Nolan avoids the bar to instead stand among the crowd. He pushes through the sweaty bodies, and I follow after him like a planet in his dizzying orbit. Nolan comes to a stop halfway to the front, hands tucked into his jeans as he stares listlessly up at the stage.

No one around us seems to notice that Nolan Hastings is standing in their presence. The boy who rose to fame from YouTube, handpicked by a television show host, to become one of the most famous rock musicians of our generation. In the darkness of the bar, he’s hidden away so that he can only be himself. And for a wild second, I get it. At this moment he’s not Nolan Hastings, he’s just Nolan, standing in a crowd listening to mostly shitty music.

Nolan bobs his head to the music with an assessing look in his eyes. It takes every ounce of restraint inside me to stop myself from reaching out to him. I want to feel the music quaking through his bones, through the flesh of his body. I want to kiss him in the dark bar and fuck his mouth with my tongue until he melts against me with burning need.

Nolan makes me want, after so many years of just going through the motions. But he also pisses me off like nothing else. Nolan’s an enigma of epic proportions that I think I could spend my entire goddamn life trying to solve. Only to end up empty-handed. Like a bird fleeing the nest once big enough to fly.

The music comes to an end after what feels like forever. The stage goes dark and Nolan presses his body against mine for one thrilling moment.

“Stay here,” Nolan whispers for only me to hear.

“Okay.”

I watch him disappear towards the edge of the throng, my eyebrows scrunched in confusion. The crowd murmurs among themselves for an endless age, until someone from the bar climbs onto the stage with a frenzied grin. Oh no.

“We’ve got a special treat tonight, folks! Give a big hand to Nolan Hastings!”

The entire crowd is silent for a brief second before breaking into raucous applause. My stomach roils at the sight of Nolan walking to the front of the stage. He curls his fingers around the microphone, his eyes dark, hiding a depth of something that I wish I understood. He carefully situates himself on the stool and grabs the acoustic guitar to his left.

“Hi,” Nolan says into the microphone with a breathy laugh. Someone in the crowd whistles and Nolan squints their way. “Thanks, love. I felt like doing something acoustic tonight. Anyway, if you know the song, sing along. If you don’t know it, then shut the fuck up so everyone can hear me.”

The crowd laughs and a few more whistles fill the air again. Nolan places the mic back in the stand, then turns his attention to the guitar. He plucks a few strings slowly, setting the mood for whatever song he’s about to sing. When he opens his mouth, I suddenly know what people are talking about when they say someone has the voice of an angel. Nolan’s voice is melodic, deep, and it feels like a punch to the chest when I finally understand the words. Despite listening to his songs on repeat for months, something about hearing him in person is different. His tone is deeper, striking through the tender core of me.

His fingers glide over the neck of the guitar, easily bringing the melody to life. But his voice is haunting as he sings lyrics about being ruined at a young age. Toward the end of the song, his gaze lifts from the guitar to flit over the audience. I’m not sure he can see me with the lights, but his gaze somehow lands on me anyway, and the corner of his mouth tips up in a poor imitation of a smile.

When he finishes the song, the entire crowd claps like they’ve just seen God return to the earth. Maybe they have. Nolan has that effect on people. He carefully places the guitar back in its stand and gives a wave to the crowd, before climbing offstage. I push through the bodies to beeline it straight for him. My blood is rushing in my ears, fingers itching with the need to grab him, do anything. Just touch him.

By the time I reach the stage, Nolan is surrounded by fans. He happily takes selfies as if his fame doesn’t haunt him at every fucking step. The perfect celebrity. It takes fifteen minutes before everyone is satisfied with pictures or hastily drawn autographs on arms. Nolan tips his head in the direction of the back of the bar once the fans are gone. I follow along behind him, and join him at a two-seater table top.

“You want something to drink?” Nolan asks, voice low and going straight to my cock. Fuck.

“Can I?”

Nolan rolls his eyes. “Can you?”

I can feel my eye twitch in irritation. “I’ll get something to drink. You want something?”

Nolan shakes his head. I disappear toward the bar without a backward glance. I return to Nolan with a cheap bottle of beer in my grip. He tilts his head to the side when I rejoin him.

“I took you for a liquor boy.”

I shrug and take a slow sip of my beer. “Not much of an alcohol drinker at all.”

“Shame,” Nolan says sourly. “Drink for me.”

“Why?”

Nolan digs around in his pocket for his wallet, pulling out a thick coin. He moves it around between his fingers a few times, the perfect picture of a gambler before placing a bet. His smile is wry and teasing as he finally shows it off to me.

“Five years sober.”

I’d forgotten the headlines. He’d been drunk on stage, puked everywhere, then carted off to rehab for a few months. He’d just barely been twenty-one at the time. Uneasiness rolls through me as he pockets the medallion back into his wallet.

“Is it safe for you to be at a bar?” I ask like an idiot.

Nolan rolls his eyes again. “I’m a rockstar. There’s alcohol and drugs everywhere I go.”

“Ever scared of relapsing?”

Nolan stares at me for a few seconds as if in disbelief I’d deign to ask him such a question. He presses his elbows against the table, leaning closer so that he doesn’t have to speak so loud.

“There’s a higher chance of me ending up dead than me ever drinking again.”

I carefully set my beer down on the dirty table and lean over so that our faces are only inches apart. Nolan’s lips twitch at the corner again, as if working hard to hold back laughter.

“Isn’t being in a bar tempting though? One sip and it all goes away?”

Nolan narrows his dark brown eyes at me. “Fuck you.”

“Nah,” I say with a cruel laugh. Leaning back into my seat, I grab my beer and take a slow sip. “I think it works for us the other way. I’ve got plans for you later tonight.”

Nolan makes a pitying look at me, lower lip popping out in a pout. “Aw, cute little puppy. What are you going to do? Finish your beer so that we can get the fuck out of here. I’m tired of them all looking at me.”

“If you don’t like them looking at you, why'd you perform on the stage?”

Nolan flicks his hand in a dismissive wave. “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer.”

“Your fans are your enemies?”

“Bloodsuckers,” Nolan murmurs darkly.

I gulp down the rest of my beer with a barely restrained grimace. “Let’s go. I’m going to fuck you by the pool until you’re crying.”

“Whatever,” Nolan says blandly, but I can clearly see the shape of his hardening cock in his jeans.

But I’d forgotten that Nolan always has the upper hand in every situation. The moment we’re alone in the car, he lunges across the console to attack my mouth with his own. It’s more of a biting, angry kind of kiss than anything close to sweet or slow. Again it feels like he’s trying to suck me dry through a kiss alone.

Nolan pulls away from me with a gasp and glances down at my lap while biting his plush bottom lip. My cock is painfully hard in the tight jeans he dressed me in, pressing against the zipper in a way that makes my brain hurt.

Nolan glances back up at me in the dark of the car, face closed off. “I’m going to suck your cock. You’re going to choke me with it until I can’t breathe, until tears are leaking from my eyes. And you won’t stop unless I tap out. Do you understand?”

“That sounds dangerous,” I argue, voice cracking on the words.

Nolan’s answering smirk is beyond wicked. “You’ll learn, stud. There’s pleasure in the pain.”

Nolan unbuttons my jeans and dips his warm hand into my pants to wrap around my cock. He squeezes me once, before pressing his warm mouth against my ear.

“Fuck my mouth, then when we get home, I’ll let you suck me off while you press a hand to my throat.” Nolan slowly licks my ear, then blows his warm breath over my skin, sending a violent chill down my spine. “You’re so much fun, Benji.”

I have just enough presence of mind to remember where we are. Grabbing the back of Nolan’s neck, I tug him away and watch his eyes blow wide at my rough touch. There are too many people that could see us, and while I love the idea of the entire world knowing Nolan is mine, this man protects his privacy like it’s a precious secret in the palm of his hands. Fucking his mouth outside of the bar isn’t going to work for me.

“Not here,” I say roughly.

Nolan squeezes my cock hard, making me buck up into his grip. “Are you saying no to me?”

“Yeah, I’m saying no, Nolan. If you can wait until we get home, I’ll give you everything you want and more. But I’m not fucking you outside this bar.”

I’d expected a tantrum, maybe even a punishment, but Nolan just stares at me with his hand still down my pants. Movement outside the bar catches my attention, but it’s just someone smoking, too far away to see us in our current precarious position.

“I can’t believe you said no to me,” Nolan whispers in disbelief.

“Well, I did. So. Can you stop squeezing my dick?”

Nolan carefully removes his hand from my pants, then just as carefully zips my jeans back up. His fingers press against the warm skin of my stomach for a moment before pulling away as if he was burned.

Nolan stares blankly out the windshield as he peels out of the dark parking lot to point us back to his house. Streetlights blur behind the window faster than my eyes can hone in on them. When I’m with Nolan, I feel swept away by an uncontrollable tide. He gets under my skin, making me do things I’d never once in my life considered doing. Some would call it danger, but the more I get to know him, the more I think maybe he’s just waking me up inside, after a long time asleep.