Page 9 of Wild Infatuation (Rebel Rockstars #3)

Chapter Nine

Shawn

I’M ONLY RETURNING HIS shirt, I tell myself as I approach the man gaping at me amid a bustling music video production.

Terrance was talking with someone, but she hurries off when she sees me coming.

She’s probably busy, that’s all. It would be absurd for a PA to feel like she needs to give me any privacy with the hair and makeup guy.

Besides, it’s been a long two days. I’m sure everyone wants to go home, including Terrance, so I should make this quick.

In fact, I probably shouldn’t do this at all, but I promised the guy I’d get his shirt signed, and I did, so I’d be an even bigger jerk if I didn’t return it to him.

A voice prickles the back of my mind as I worry myself into a spiral on my way to Terrance.

This has always been the problem with me, my father says.

I’ve always run headlong into trouble when I should have known better.

I’ve always ignored red flags and done whatever I want instead of heeding his sage advice.

I’ve always insisted on having things that could never be real.

I try to shove my father aside, but it’s hard to get his disapproving voice out of my mind as I walk toward a man I should absolutely steer clear of.

This is why my first boyfriend cheated on me with a woman, Dad would say, because I keep trying to act like my silly feelings are facts when they aren’t.

They can’t be. The first boyfriend cheated on me, and the second one, and the third one, because they realized faster than me that being gay is a phase, a silly little indulgence you’re supposed to set aside when you grow up and become responsible.

I don’t know what my father would make of me being a rockstar.

I don’t even know if him and Mom know what I’ve become.

I’ve been out of touch with them for long enough that their lives are a complete mystery to me, yet their disapproval lingers, like a stain on my very soul.

Some days, it feels like I’ve achieved all of this simply to prove them wrong.

I’m a famous musician, a legitimately famous rockstar musician, and even that isn’t enough to get their voices out of my head in moments like this.

I must be scowling when I reach Terrance. The normally friendly hair and makeup guy shrinks away from me, and I shake myself and smooth my expression.

“Your shirt,” I say.

Terrance only looks more confused, and it abruptly hits me that I stormed up to him and dropped a random noun in his lap. My father’s voice in my head has reduced me to a neanderthal.

“I have your shirt,” I try. “Can I return it to you?”

“Oh!” Terrance blinks. “Yes, of course, if you’re not busy.”

I wave vaguely behind me. “Shoot’s done. Should be okay. Follow me.”

There’s a strange thrill in how quickly Terrance agrees, how easily he falls into step beside me.

For all my fear and skepticism about other human beings, Terrance trusts me without hesitation.

He lets me lead him through the mess of the music video’s sprawling production toward the wardrobe trailer.

Levi and Jacob are exiting the trailer as Terrance and I approach. Beside me, Terrance sucks in a startled breath, reminding me that to him, these aren’t any two guys. They’re members of his favorite band.

Levi gives me a nod, eyes darting to the man beside me.

“This is Terrance,” I say, nodding my head toward him.

Jacob instantly breaks into his trademark dimpled smile. “Hair and makeup. I remember you. Thanks for your hard work during the shoot. You even got that guy looking put together for once.”

Jacob juts his chin at me. I roll my eyes, even as Terrance fidgets.

“Wasn’t exactly a hard job,” Terrance says. “You guys always look amazing. I mean…”

I can tell he’s blushing without even looking. Even Levi smirks, though he tries to hold it back. He’s too nice to call someone out like that.

“We should keep you around,” Levi says. “You did a good job.”

“Oh my God, yes,” Jacob says, clapping his hands. “We should do that for our next show. Does Emmett have your information?”

Terrance nods. “I … I think he’s the one who interviewed me?”

“Scary guy?” Levi says. “Talks like you’re his kid and always disappointing him?”

Terrance manages a chuckle. “Yeah, that sounds right.”

“Great,” Jacob says. “And you’re local?”

“I live up in Montlake Terrace.”

“Perfect! You’re our man, then,” Jacob says. “I am not letting that crazy man who went nuts with the scissors near my head ever again.”

I stay silent throughout the exchange, battling an explosion of both terror and excitement as Jacob casually arranges for Terrance to hang around the band in the future.

My stomach should not flip over itself at that notion.

More unrealistic fantasies, my father grumbles in the back of my mind.

If I couldn’t trust my past boyfriends, how could I trust some obsessed fan?

“Shawn was just getting my shirt for me,” Terrance is saying when I shake myself back to my senses.

“Oh!” Jacob says. “You’re the guy from the meet and greet. That’s why Shawn asked me to sign a T-shirt today?”

“I assumed he explained…” Terrance says, shooting me a look.

I shrug. “It wasn’t a big deal.”

Jacob rolls his eyes. “You could have told me the situation. If I knew it was for the hair and makeup guy I could have brought him the shirt myself.”

I don’t like the way my gut clenches, so I simply shake my head.

“It’s fine,” I say. “I have it with my stuff. I’m going to grab it real quick.”

Jacob waves away my explanation. “Fine. We’re ordering Dicks and bringing it to my place afterward. Are you coming?”

I assure him I’ll show up after I change, then Levi and Jacob head out, leaving me alone with Terrance.

That fact hits harder when I show him into the trailer and the quiet blankets us.

After a day of people and noise and music, the silence fills the space like cotton stuffing, leaving it close and warm.

The trailer isn’t very different from the one where Terrance did our hair and makeup.

A couch sits against one wall. There’s a kitchenette and a fold out table, then the world’s smallest bathroom, which lies crammed in a narrow hall that leads to the bedroom where we tossed our street clothes.

It’s a lot like the vans we traveled in during the tour, though far smaller.

“I left it back here with my stuff,” I say.

I head to the back of the RV. The bed in the center of the room is more than enough to crowd the space.

My clothes lie sprawled across it. Everyone else’s clothes are gone, replaced by the stuff we had to wear for the video.

They must have all booked it out of here while I was busy talking to a guy I should avoid.

Abruptly, I realize how alone we are. We’re not simply secluded; we’ve gone all the way to the bedroom in the back of the trailer, cutting ourselves off from the entire crew.

My bandmates are gone. I’ve sequestered myself with an obsessive fan in a place where no one will find us.

Every single survival instinct tells me I should be wary.

Our bodyguard, Seth, would grab me by the scruff of the neck and haul me out of here if he knew this was going on.

Yet it isn’t caution twisting my stomach up in knots as I stare too long at the soft moss of Terrance’s green eyes.

I put my back to him (another move Seth would probably hate) and dig through the messenger bag I left in the corner. Terrance’s shirt lies rolled up within it, and when I retrieve it, I hold it up like a shield between us.

“Sorry,” I say. “It’s probably wrinkled now. That was stupid of me.”

Terrance shakes his head and steps closer, fingering the edges of the shirt as he takes in the five signatures scrawled across it. “I don’t mind. Thank you so much for doing this.”

When he looks up, his eyes pin me where I stand.

As hard as I dig, I can’t find any deception in those eyes.

I can’t find any lie, any malice, any betrayal.

They’re so clear, so honest. Even the scars every single man I’ve ever dated has carved into my heart aren’t enough to keep me from believing him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Haven’t you been hurt enough times? And you’re going to fall for some fan who sees you as a trophy?

It’s my own voice this time. The feeling fluttering through my chest is so ill-advised that there’s not enough self-deception in the universe to shield me from that fact. Obsession isn’t love. It isn’t loyalty. It isn’t trust.

But man, is it a convincing forgery.

Terrance is still holding the edges of the shirt while I hold the shoulders.

The flimsy cotton feels like it might disintegrate from the obvious heat building between us.

It’s all those moments when Terrance touched my face to do my makeup, but magnified a thousand times.

There’s no professional veneer to stand between us anymore, and I find myself closing the tenuous space between us before I can stop myself.

Terrance gapes up at me, shock widening his eyes as I stand far closer than propriety allows.

His lips part as I gaze down at him, his face so sweet and open and guileless.

Am I really such a fool as to believe it?

Or am I simply a guy who’s gotten hurt so many times that bright, earnest eyes are enough to make me act against all my wiser instincts?

The difference is purely academic. My body takes over, accepting the invitation written all over Terrance’s face.

His eyes flutter shut as I bend to kiss him, but I take my time, going cautiously and slowly.

It’s been too long since I’ve felt someone’s mouth against mine, and maybe that’s why Terrance’s feels so impossibly soft and warm.

Our lips meet almost timidly, a kiss that should never exist blooming on our mouths.

I breathe him in as I tilt my head to kiss him deeper, the signed T-shirt clasped between our chests.

I drop the garment, giving up that flimsy pretense so I can cradle his face.

Terrance murmurs against my lips, hands gripping my shirt as I take his mouth for myself.

God, he feels good. He’s welcoming and warm, giving himself over completely to my desire.

He clings to me like he never wants to let go, and that only makes me want more of him.

I slide one hand down to wrap it around his waist and draw him against my body—

And the door of the trailer rattles.

We break apart gasping. The T-shirt lies on the floor. As the door opens, I hastily scoop up the garment and shove it at Terrance. It’s a wrinkled wad of fabric, but he doesn’t seem like he notices as he stands gaping at me, those soft, full lips parted around our kiss.

“Sorry, forgot something,” Levi says as he heads in.

He spots us in the back and freezes, eyebrows rising.

“He’s got his shirt,” I say to try to cover the awkwardness.

Thank God Terrance takes his cue. “Y-yeah,” he says. “Thank you again. I should … I should really get going.”

He rushes out of the trailer, giving Levi a nod as passes.

Levi shoots me a look, but I put my back to him and start unbuttoning my shirt, refusing to acknowledge the knowing look in his eyes.

I don’t know what the fuck I just did, but it’s definitely not something I’m going to admit to my bandmates.

Screwing up again , my father sneers in the back of my mind.

Maybe he’s right.