Page 7 of The Long Refrain (Sweet Southern #4)

7

BENJI

SEPTEMBER 2027

A ll of my friends are falling in love. Eli is all shacked up with Colby, and no one can fault him because Colby is a serious snack. Then there’s Trevor with the giant Beau. Seriously, these guys are drinking something different from the rest of us. Now Jackson is all goo-goo for the snarky redhead.

Meanwhile, I’m hopelessly pining for the rockstar I can’t get out of my head no matter how hard I try. I haven’t even seen him since February. But those five days in Los Angeles are burned into my mind.

After a fun day at the autumn festival, we all gather at Trevor and Beau’s house. We shoot the shit for a while, and I fill Trevor in on the contract Chris and Claire want me to sign. A world tour with Nolan. Once Jackson heads back to the mother-in-law suite over the garage at Colby and Eli’s place, I corner Trevor in the backyard of Beau’s house.

“You’ve got to tell me if I’m making a mistake with Nolan.”

Trevor stares at me hard, gaze unblinking in that unsettling way of his. I do my best not to squirm under his stare, but it’s difficult because the man has a serious intensity.

“I can’t answer that for you, Benji,” Trevor finally says with a resigned sigh.

“Trevor,” I whine.

“Sunshine,” Trevor mocks.

I’m going to punch him. Reaching out to take a swipe at him, Trevor ducks with a dark chuckle.

“You’ve just gotta do what you think is best, you know? You’ve already been with him a couple of times, so you just have to figure out if you could do it for months on end. A world tour is a serious commitment,” Trevor says with all the gravity of a parent explaining something to a child. Which he kind of is, despite him being younger than me. Most of the time Trevor feels like the eldest of all of us. “And you’ve got to think about the cost that twenty-four seven with Nolan is going to do to you. Is it worth that? I can’t tell you.”

“I just want you to decide for meeeeeeee.”

“Can’t, sorry. But Nolan isn’t a bad guy, we both know that. He’s just fucked up.”

“A little,” I hesitantly agree.

Trevor leans against the back porch railing to stare blankly out at the forest of trees swaying in the gentle breeze behind Beau’s home. I scoot over beside him to also lean against the railing, pretending like I can see in the forest whatever he’s able to see. But after a few minutes it gets boring, so I straighten back up with a sigh. Leaning my back against the railing, I stare at the side of Trevor’s face until he turns to look at me.

“What was he like with you?” I ask softly, a little afraid of the answer.

Trevor’s mouth pinches, and he steals a look behind him to ensure Beau is safely inside the house. “Aggressive and mean. He always topped from the bottom, bit and scratched and egged me on until I got aggressive too. I never liked it much. I always left feeling worse, which wasn’t something I hated back then. But with Nolan it was always a little more difficult. Especially dealing with his emotions.”

“It seems he has a particular dynamic that he likes,” I comment, not wanting to confirm or deny to Trevor that Nolan’s the same way with me. Because while I think there’s similarities, I don’t think Nolan opened himself up to Trevor the way he has with me. Similar dynamics, but different approach.

Trevor nods tiredly. “Just be careful.” He stands up slowly and pats my cheek fondly. “And if it goes south, you can always come running home with your tail between your legs.”

I stick my tongue out at him, earning me a real Trevor laugh. “I’m going to do it.”

“Well, good luck. You’ll need it.”

Trevor offers to drive me back to Colby and Eli’s place but I wave him off. Walking through the woods at night isn’t new to me after growing up on the commune. Plus, usually a walk helps me get my mind right, helps me figure shit out. The stars flicker in the sky over me as I walk along the gravel road. Hands tucked into my pockets to ward off the slight chill in the air, I think about the contract that Chris emailed me earlier this week.

Eight months on a world tour with Nolan and three million dollars. That amount of money will change everything for me. If I let Jackson invest some of the money, I could probably retire off of it. But I also don’t know if I’m strong enough to handle eight whole months with just Nolan. His emotions are volatile and hard to withstand at times. He’s a barreling hurricane and I’m a dandelion caught in his raging storm.

When Colby’s farmhouse comes into view, I pause beside one of the large oak trees a little down the way. A breeze blows over the grass, settling whatever wary feeling that’s been slowly growing in my chest. Chris lists his number at the bottom of his email, so my impulsiveness wins when he makes it so easy.

“Hello?” Chris says after the third ring.

“It’s Benji… I want to talk to Nolan before I sign the contract.”

“You want to talk to Nolan,” Chris repeats in obvious confusion.

“Yeah, I want to speak to him. Can you give me his number?”

There’s a mild scramble for the phone, hushed noises, and then a very serious smacking sound. That’s weird.

“What?” Nolan asks into the phone, his tone clipped like always.

“Hi,” I say with a small smile.

“Hi?” Nolan repeats, sounding just as confused as Chris.

“I’m going to sign the contract for the tour, but I wanted to talk to you first. Can you step away from Chris?”

The sound of Nolan moving around echoes through the phone, shuffling his feet and a quickening in his breath. A few moments later, a door closes.

“Alright, you’ve got me alone. What can I do for you, Benji?”

“I’m going to have some rules.”

“You’re going to have rules?” Nolan repeats with a skeptical laugh. “Who do you think is running this show?”

“Me.”

“You?”

I spin around in the gravel, kicking my right foot in the rocks. When I look up at the moon, it stares unblinking back at me like it also knows I’m a big fucking idiot. And maybe I am an idiot. But if I’m going to do this, then I want to do it my way, not Nolan’s.

“Yes, me. I’ll come on the tour, fuck you when you need the release, but you’re going to do what I say when I say it. Because I think you like that idea, don’t you, Nolan? You hate giving up control, but at the same time, you kind of like it.”

“Benji,” Nolan growls.

“So I’ll go, but I’m in charge. Okay?”

“Fine,” Nolan finally relents after a few charged moments. “But you need to remember that for eight months, you're mine; I’m not yours. No matter what you think. I’ll see you in New York next week.”

Nolan hangs up without another word, leaving me standing alone in the dark. The moon is still as bright as ever, mocking me and my idiocy. For the first time I notice the ring circling the moon. I rub at my chest, trying to ward off the ominous feeling of danger looming on the horizon. A ring around the moon means hold steady, things are about to get bumpy, my mama’s voice murmurs in my head. Maybe for once she’ll be wrong.

The world tour starts in London, but instead of flying separately, I’m meeting Nolan in New York to fly on his private jet. It takes far too long for me to find my way toward the section of JFK with the private planes. The security guard looks at me dubiously when I give my name, and he even looks mildly pissed off when my name is on the list. I frown as I step inside and look down at my faded, ripped jeans and an old T-shirt. It’s travel attire. I want to be comfortable.

After a few minutes of wandering, I locate Nolan sitting in a leather chair, both legs tossed over the winged back and head hanging close to the ground. He doesn’t hear me approach him because of the large headphones over his ears. Fingers tapping a beat against his thighs, he’s the picture of a musician. My heart does this dizzy sort of leap in my chest at the memory of what his mouth tastes like. I wonder if he still tastes the same, like spice and bite and rage.

“Don’t bother him,” Chris murmurs from behind me.

I jump a little. “Jesus, you scared me.”

Chris smiles sheepishly, then nods toward Nolan. “He’s picturing himself on stage. Helps his anxiety.”

I turn back to Nolan and swallow thickly. A little furrow of concentration rests between his brows. His shirt slowly slides down to reveal his concave stomach, the tattoos a storybook across his skin.

“I’m going to bother him,” I inform Chris, moving away before he can have the option to stop me.

Crouching down in front of Nolan, I lightly boop him on the nose. His dark brown eyes take me in, that furrow in his brows slowly disappearing, only to be replaced by a wicked smirk at the corner of his lips.

“Hey, stud,” Nolan teases.

The terminal is empty minus for us, so I dip down to kiss him. Nolan startles just a little but gets with the program quickly, opening up for me so that I can lick into his mouth. He tastes just like I remember but with a coffee bite. His tongue tangles with mine, but he doesn’t fight for dominance. Gripping his neck in my palm, I squeeze and steal his breath from him. When I pull away, his eyes are glassy, and he stares up at me.

We look at each other for a few long moments, before I stand, never breaking eye contact.

“Ever been blown on an airplane?” Nolan asks as I toss myself into the seat beside him.

“Can’t say that I have.”

Nolan closes his eyes again. “First time for everything.”

He ignores my presence, seemingly getting lost in the music again. We don’t sit long before Chris stands, taps Nolan on the shoulder, then disappears toward the gate. Nolan stretches out like a cat, legs pulled taut, arms stretched so the tips of his fingers touch the dark gray carpet.

Nolan heaves himself out of the chair and holds his hand out for me. I slip my hand into his, enjoying the touch of his calloused fingers against my wrist. His headphones slip down to his neck as he tugs me toward the gate, his fingers gently squeezing my own.

The private plane isn’t as small as I was expecting. Sleek tan leather seats dot the cabin, and there are two doors in the back. Chris settles quietly in a seat up front and starts amiably chatting with the older stewardess. Nolan drops my hand and makes a beeline for the seat at the back of the plane. I’m not sure where to go. Do I follow Nolan? Do I sit with Chris?

My internal struggle is put to rest when Nolan stands back up with a roll of his eyes. “Hello? Come sit back here.”

Sassy fucker. Plopping my trusty backpack on the ground, I slide into the seat beside Nolan. He keeps his headphones around his neck and angles his head against the seat so that he can fix me with his weird, hard gaze. My eyes dip down to the skeleton hands around his neck, then back up to his suddenly grinning mouth.

“Oh, Nolan, if I come, I’m going to be in charge,” Nolan mocks, lips curled up in a mean sort of smirk. I have the odd urge to take him over my knee and spank him. Instead, I curl my fingers against my jeans to keep myself from reaching out for him.

“I am in charge,” I point out, voice thready.

Nolan rolls his eyes. He fumbles around in his jeans pockets, making a victorious sound in the back of his throat when he pulls out a stick of gum.

“Juicy Fruit, it’s the best.” He carefully unfurls the gum from the silver jacket, then pops the yellow stick of gum into his mouth. A small, pleased smile tilts his lips up as if he’s forgotten to be a shit if only for a moment. “Aptly named gum since I am also a juicy fruit.”

“You’re sassy today,” I point out.

Nolan shrugs indifferently. “Either that or be wrecked out of my mind worrying about this fucking goddamn world tour.”

“You don’t like tours?”

Nolan turns his hard gaze on me. “We’ve talked about this, Benjamin, I don’t like singing for crowds at all. Keep up.”

“We didn’t talk in-depth about it,” I point out.

Nolan looks sarcastically thoughtful, if that’s a thing at all. “Pretty sure we did. Hey, wanna fuck me in the bedroom when we’re over the Atlantic? You can put a sock in my mouth to keep me quiet.”

Jesus Christ. I squeeze my eyes tightly shut to stop myself from getting a boner. I’m not going to fuck him on the plane. It’s what he wants, but not what I want.

“I’m not fucking you on the plane,” I say, doing my best to keep my voice level.

“Boring.” Nolan tosses himself back in the seat, tugs his headphones over his head, and proceeds to do his best to ignore my very presence.

The plane takes off without a hitch. Once we’re in the air, the stewardess comes back to offer me drinks. After ordering a ginger ale, I lean against the seat and look out at the sky. The city disappears beneath us as we climb higher and higher, the cloud cover hiding the city from sight. An hour into the seven-hour flight, Nolan falls asleep beside me. His head dangles precariously for a few moments, before falling onto my shoulder with a gentle thump.

Slowly, I raise my hand to sift my fingers through his messy hair. He stays asleep through it, but mumbles a few words I can’t make out. I turn my head to press my nose into his hair, trying to inhale the familiar scent of him without seeming like a damn creep. Of course, that’s the moment that Chris wanders back to observe us.

“You have a way with him,” Chris points out, eyes stuck on where my fingers gently curl around his arm.

“He’s sleeping.”

Chris rolls his eyes and releases a small laugh. “The man never fucking sleeps.”

Chris disappears back toward the front of the plane with an odd sort of smile. I don’t know what he’s talking about. Nolan hasn’t ever struggled to sleep when I’m around. Although, usually it is because I’ve fucked him into a giant heap of exhaustion. I lose track of time just watching Nolan sleep. His lips stay slightly parted, gentle breaths puffing against my face as he sleeps. Rock music filters from the ears of the headphones, but not loud enough to disturb his quiet slumber.

My arm and shoulder ache from staying still to be a good pillow. I use the time to once again catalog his tattoos. As fond as I am of the flowers on his ribs, I also like the odd mishmash of tattoos that line his arms. The one on his right arm is a sleeve depicting a glowing forest with small, woodland creatures throughout. The closer I look, the more I notice that the creatures look slightly rabid, almost evil. Cool. He has an evil forest on his arm.

A ding goes on overhead and the captain tells us all to buckle in for landing. Not wanting to unsettle Nolan, I carefully reach across him to grab the seat belt. Nolan comes awake with a startle, his fingers reaching out to grab at my forearm.

“Hey, it’s me. I’m just buckling you in.” I carefully pull the seat belt across his lithe waist. His eyes remain on me the entire time, his gaze sharp despite just returning to wakefulness. “Okay?”

“Fine,” Nolan mumbles before clearing his throat. “What time is it?”

“Well, you slept the entire way, angel. We’re landing.”

Nolan either ignores the nickname, or doesn’t hear it, because he presses his pointer finger and thumb against his eyes. He seems annoyed that he slept the entire way. The shake of his leg accompanies us all through landing, even as we come to a stop on the tarmac. Chris stands once the door opens and waits for us to join him. I hold a finger up in the universal sign for him to give us a moment. The man must trust me a shit ton because he leaves the plane without a single argument.

I slip my hand around the nape of Nolan’s neck and squeeze hard. Using my firm grip, I tug him toward me and kiss his still sleep-soft mouth. He fights me for a moment, fingers pushing against my chest, before they curl into the fabric and tug me closer as he moans quietly into my mouth. The shake of his leg stills and his body slumps against me as I swipe my tongue into his mouth, making him pliant and mine under the onslaught of our kiss.

“Better?” I ask against Nolan’s slack mouth.

“Fuck you,” Nolan whispers back, but the absence of tension in his body belies his statement. I relaxed him and he’s pissed about it.

I grin broadly when he clamors out of the seat, and my grin grows even wider when he waits for me before stepping out of the plane. Nolan strides straight for the car waiting to no doubt take us to the hotel close to the arena. Chris sits in the front while the both of us climb into the back.

“How’s Trevor?” Nolan asks as he stares out the window at the passing London scenery.

“Fine. He found love, quit escorting.”

Nolan’s head turns to me, a small frown on his lips. “Really?”

“Mmm, yeah. Nice guy. Tall, southern, quiet.”

“Hope it lasts. Trevor was nice.”

Nice seems like a big compliment coming from Nolan. I want to ask him a million questions. I want to ask him why he seems so set on me after having a turn at almost every other guy on the boyfriend roster. What makes me different? But I don’t ask because I’m not quite sure I want the answer.

The car pulls up to a fancy-ass-looking hotel that I’m definitely not dressed well enough for, but Nolan isn’t either in his skinny jeans and tight black T-shirt. Doesn’t seem to matter though when we walk into the lobby and a hush falls over the people milling around. I have this odd urge to pull Nolan into my arms, shield him from the view of everyone around us. But I also know Nolan would hate that with the burning passion of a thousand suns, so I stay a few feet behind him as he heads straight for the elevators.

He stands anxiously by the elevator doors, fingers tapping against his thigh. I slowly reach up to slip the headphones back over his ears, thinking maybe the loud music will calm his restless tapping. His anxious movements stop and his dark eyes stare at me in some weird mix of confusion and gratefulness. A moment later, Chris reappears while brandishing a hotel key card.

“Your room key for the next three nights,” Chris says as he slaps the card against my chest.

I grab the slim key with a frown. He didn’t hand one to Nolan, just me. But Nolan doesn’t seem confused or surprised by it, instead pushing his way into the elevator to lean against the furthest wall as he waits for me to hit the penthouse button.

“I’ll see you at the arena in two hours for warm-up.” Chris exits the elevator with a wave. “Make sure he eats something,” Chris calls without a look back.

“I’m not eating,” Nolan mumbles under his breath as the elevator continues to climb to the penthouse level.

“Something small?”

“No.”

“For me?”

“Definitely not.”

“What if I say please?” I tease with a flutter of my eyes.

“I would hope you know me well enough by now to know that saying please won’t endear me to you further, but will probably make me even more of a little shit. Unless saying please leads to you fucking me, then maybe I could get on board.” Nolan strides out of the elevator, head turned to look back at me. “You could feed me your cock.”

“Nolan.”

“Benjamin.”

“That’s not my name,” I growl as I fumble the key into the lock.

Nolan chuckles beside me, his breath fanning over my face. “Frustrated, stud?”

Nolan reaches around me to grab the card, fingers trailing over my overheated skin. With one gentle swipe, he pushes the door open, then proceeds to toss the card at my face. I take a slow, steady breath to stop myself from grabbing him and fucking… I don’t know… eating him whole. He’d probably like that too much though. He needs better punishments.

Nolan heads straight for the bedroom to the right but pauses just outside the door.

“Are you going to do that thing where you pretend like you don’t want to give me what I want, argue with me, let me get you riled up, then fuck me and be nice afterward? The bathroom here is nice for all those post-fucking soaks you like to take.”

“Is that what you’re doing now? Trying to rile me up?”

Nolan shrugs as he slips off his headphones. His shirt slowly disappears over his head, his thumbs slowly working at the button of his jeans. Messy hair and a stare that makes heat pool in my stomach. Backing slowly toward the bathroom, Nolan holds my gaze. I follow him like there’s a string connecting us, tugging me toward him as sweat prickles at the nape of my neck.

“Benjamin, why are you playing this game with me?” Nolan pushes his pants down, revealing his semi-hard cock. Fuck. He was commando this entire goddamn time. “You’re here for one thing. And you know what would relax me before this fucking concert in ten hours? A good hard fuck. The kind where you shove your fingers in my mouth until I choke.”

“Stop it,” I say firmly.

Nolan freezes. “Excuse me?”

“I said stop. We’re playing by my rules now. My rules are that we don’t fuck before a show, only after.”

“You can’t be serious,” Nolan says around a shocked laugh.

“Deadly serious. I’ll fuck you after a show, when you’re pliant and tired, when you need the release to go to sleep. Before a show, we can kiss, but that’s it.”

“You can’t?—”

“I can and I will,” I interrupt him.

Nolan visibly fumes, nostrils flaring, gaze going hard. He steps closer to me and shoves me, but I don’t move. We might be the same height but I’ve got enough weight on him that his shove is fruitless. He seemingly realizes this and scrunches his adorable nose up in annoyance.

“Give me all the rules,” Nolan mumbles, eyes refusing to meet mine.

I carefully wrap my palms around his neck, letting my fingers tangle in the curly hairs there. “No fucking until after a show. Then I’ll give you whatever you want, however you want it. Before shows, I’ll kiss you as much as you want, feed you, make sure you’re relaxed. And on days off, we have dates.”

Nolan winces. “Dates are for suckers.”

I chuckle as I gently brush my fingers against the warm skin of his neck. “Then I’m a sucker. Give me what I want, be good for me, hmm?”

Nolan’s eyes meet mine as I dip down closer, our lips a breath apart. “Someone who looks like you shouldn’t talk the way you do.”

“Look like what?”

“Sweet and soft.”

“I’ll show you sweet and soft,” I murmur just before closing the gap between us. I kiss Nolan until he’s supple under my hands, boneless, putty for me to make into what he needs to be for the show.

And later, when I watch from the stands as he sings in front of a crowd of more people than I can count, I know the lack of tension in his body is because of me. I count that as a win.