Page 12 of Wild Stars (Rock His World #2)

CHAPTER 12

Dare

I make sure the door is shut this time, but I can’t deny that there is a part of me that wants to defy Matty’s orders, just so maybe...

Maybe he’ll come tramping down the hallway again and burst through this door, and...

And what, Dare?

This isn’t some Disney Channel Original Movie.

This is life, and it just isn’t fucking fair.

It’s like every time I get in the asshole’s proximity, I lose my fucking marbles, like the goblins in my brain go out to lunch or some shit.

“Rough night?” Spike drawls, crossing his arms. Like Richie, he’s tall, blond, and perfect, down to the chiseled abs and tattoos.

Ines chuckles. “He ain’t the only one.”

At that moment, my brother walks through the door, looking every bit like a rockstar on a bender.

His blond hair is a mess, sticking out in tufts, and the stain of lipstick on his white shirt isn’t hard to miss.

He’s also still wearing the same thing he wore yesterday, and Spike whistles.

“Walk of shame, ladies and gents,” Ines chirps with a laugh.

Richie’s gaze flashes to mine, and I don’t think twice about what I say next.

“Oh, and like you assholes have never stumbled in here still drunk from the night before?” I catch my brother’s gaze.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who slept in this morning,” he says with a grin. He nudges me with his elbow. “Looks like wherever you ended up wasn’t so bad.”

I roll my eyes as Ines barks in the background.

“I might’ve scored the comfiest pair of sweats on the planet, but that’s it,” I grumble with a sigh.

Richie rolls his eyes.

No way in hell am I telling him I woke up in Mateo Starr’s house to a bossy musician feeding me Goldilocks porridge.

Some things just don’t need to be shared. Especially if you want to preserve those memories.

And lord knows, I’ll be preserving the memory of sexy Batman with his hot star tattoos, drinking a coffee in his kitchen in my brain forever.

“Whatever, can we just not do this? I’m tired, my head is killing me, and I just want to get through this damn rehearsal.” Richie groans.

Ines and Spike sigh, clearly perturbed that they can’t push our buttons anymore.

I swear, if I hadn’t of known the guys throughout high school, I’d probably be a lot more pissed off at their shenanigans.

I make my way to stand beside my brother, grabbing my guitar.

He catches my gaze once more.

“Please tell me you didn’t wake up with your pants on,” I chide.

Richie lets out a tired laugh.

“I woke up handcuffed to my bed. Naked, and hungover as shit.”

It was my turn to roll my eyes.

“That why you’re late? Elvira Mistress of the Dark leave with the key?”

Richie slides his strap over his shoulder. “Shut up,” he says with a laugh, and I can’t help but smile.

And for the moment, I feel like that’s enough.

* * *

By the time afternoon break rolls around, we’re all practically dying for some caffeine. While I would be happy enough with my coffee-not-coffee caramel cappuccino from the break room, Richie is dying for a damn venti with like three shots of espresso, and Penny and the others are more than happy to chime in.

Which is why Richie should be the one to be picking up this damn order, but I lost in rock, paper, scissors. Like always.

Though I guess, the walk isn’t bad for me, if only because for the first time all day, I feel like I can actually relax.

I slide my hands into my sweatpants pockets, thinking about the last twenty-four hours. Well, the last couple of days, really.

This tour, this whole rockstar thing... it’s fucking messing with my head.

On the plus side, outside of my Heart Killer costumes and makeup, I mostly look like a washed up Umbrella Academy student with a cake addiction, so thankfully, no one really notices me. Especially, with the long hair and sweatpants.

When I enter the Starbucks, I make my way toward the counter to place my order, since the stupid app wasn’t working at the damn studio. The line isn’t too terrible, about three or four people in front of me, but when I hear a familiar voice cursing behind me, I can’t help but almost jump out of my skin.

I turn around to see Matty standing there, jaw tight, eyes ablaze.

“Should I get a restraining on your ass?” I tease, feeling a familiar blaze of fire key up in my stomach, in my fucking balls.

Matty’s eyebrow twitches and I feel a sense of accomplishment.

And maybe a little better in general.

“Last I checked, it’s you who cannot seem to stay away from me,” he purrs, his silky voice making my brain turn to mush again.

“Yet here we are.” I flash him a smirk and he rolls his eyes.

“The world does not revolve around you, Dare,” he grumbles. “My sister, it seems, is in need of caffeine.”

I move up, and he does, too. Two people to go.

“And what about you, old man? What do you require? The blood of your haters?”

I watch as his shoulders tighten, and I notice he holds himself rather stiffly.

He’s uncomfortable.

Of course, probably because he remembers you making an ass of yourself.

“Nothing that Starbucks can deliver, that’s for sure,” he mutters on a growl.

Something about his words feel important, and though they sound harsh, I have a feeling it’s just his bite.

Beneath it, lies something else, something I can’t quite place.

“Richie’s dying for some extra kick, too. Then Ines and Spike were like, oh wait, don’t forget about me, and then Penny was like?—”

I realize I am rambling, so I stop, trying to collect myself and to look like a normal person for once. One person left.

We move up again in the line.

“Can I... can I buy you a drink?” I ask cautiously. I don’t miss the way his eyebrows knit together as he contemplates my offer.

“Yes, because that worked so well the last time,” he nips.

I know his words should offend me, but they don’t.

Not in the slightest. In fact, it’s the opposite. They are like a challenge.

“Well, I don’t think Starbucks has any whiskey to spike your drink, so I think you’re safe.” I flash him with a grin.

Matty’s eyebrow twitches as he grinds his jaw.

“It’s the least I can do, man. You...” I swallow harshly as the words fall out of my mouth without warning. “You took care of my stupid ass, and you didn’t have to,” I declare, stealing a glance at his steely gray eyes. “More than once.”

Matty huffs out a breath. “It is becoming quite a bad habit, I agree,” he murmurs, as he nods. “You’re up.”

I pause for a moment, glancing between him and the barista, and settle on putting my order in. “All right, I need a venti mocha with two shots of espresso,” I state as the barista raises an eyebrow.

“Venti already has two shots of espresso, sir. You want four?”

I huff out a sigh of annoyance. “Yes, my brother’s like the Walking Dead today. He needs a shock to the heart,” I tell her, and she looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.

Okay, fair.

“Then I need a grande flat white hot, a grande matcha latte hot, and I will have a java chip cookie crumble frappucino, please.”

The barista punches her keys, inputting our order, and then I turn to Mateo.

“What do you and Hailee want?”

Matty purses his lips, but I stop him with a finger to his lips so he cannot protest.

“I’m not taking no for an answer. Just tell the pretty lady what you want.”

I can swear for the hint of a second, that I feel his tongue against the pad of my fingertips and I drop my hand. The sensation sends a shiver through my body, but Matty looks as stoic and hot as ever.

He narrows his gaze at me. “Fine. If you insist on being a stubborn ass, I will take a venti caramel macchiato with an extra shot of espresso, hot, and I will have an oatmilk chai latte with brown sugar syrup, hot,” he demands, adding a sarcastic and dry, “Please.”

The way he says please makes my damn cock twitch and I have to shift my stance. Again.

I turn away from him, sliding out my wallet to pay for the drinks, but I can feel his gaze on my back like a warm fire.

“Thanks,” I say to the barista as I tuck a twenty in the cup for the tips.

Matty and I move down to the opposite end of the counter as the baristas make our drinks.

“You are quite demanding, you know that, right?” he says in his sexy Batman voice.

I can’t help but smirk, feeling like I just won the fucking lottery.

“Who me? No. Not at all,” I chirp with a laugh. “Not a demanding bone in my body.”

“Mhmm,” he says as he crosses his arms, bumping into me slightly.

The place isn’t all that packed, and I know I can move to give us space, but a part of me doesn’t want to.

I don’t want to give him the satisfaction, and a part of me likes him being close. Like this.

I can almost pretend he doesn’t hate me entirely.

“Darren!” the barista hollers as she slides up the first two drinks.

Matty moves with me, passing me cardboard holders and lids as I set the first two drinks in the carrier.

When the next two drinks come up, he does the same.

“Thanks,” I say, flashing him a smile. I notice he glances at me, but his gaze doesn’t linger. Not like it did this morning.

But I wish it did.

“I believe it’s me who should be thanking you,” he replies as the last two drinks are delivered.

I take the last lid from his hands, twisting my lips.

“You’re welcome,” I say softly as I put the lid on the last cup.

I grab the carrier and Matty walks ahead, opening the door for me.

“Thanks,” I say as I squeeze through, brushing against his chest once more. The sun is bright even for the afternoon, and I walk briskly toward the studio. Thankfully, it’s only one block away, so it isn’t too hot, but a part of me wishes it was further away, if only because I know once we arrive, Matty will disappear again.

And stupidly, I want to keep him here, with me.

I’m such a fucking glutton for punishment.

The air is thick with tension, and I decide I can’t take the silence anymore.

“I, uh... had a really great time last night,” I say like an idiot. Even to my own ears, I sound lame as hell.

Matty twists his lips, breathing out a sigh. “Yes, well, that makes one of us,” he grumbles, and my eyebrows furrow. “I mean... I’m glad. That you... enjoyed yourself,” he says cautiously as we come up to the studio street.

I can see the building, and I start to slow down. To my surprise, Matty follows my lead.

“Matty, I?—”

I stop on the sidewalk, and he does, too. He looks at me, then at the building, then lets out a sigh.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says gruffly.

“Do what?” I ask, responding to the tone of his voice. It reminds me of a tiger in a cage. Pacing and pacing, looking regal as shit, but the moment you tap the glass, they show their teeth.

Captive and angry.

“I’m going to make this simple, Darren.” His voice trembles as he says my name. He reaches for his drink, and then his sister’s.

“Okay...” I say like a confused idiot.

“What happened last night…” He closes his eyes, swallowing harshly. When he opens them again, I can see the sadness, the guilt in his eyes and I fucking hate it.

Because I realize he feels guilty about what happened between us.

But why?

Doesn’t he know how fucking hot he is?

How he drives me fucking crazy?

How I can’t stop thinking about him or that fucking kiss?

Or his dick...

“What happened between us last night was a mistake. We were drunk. It can’t happen again, and it won’t happen again. Do you understand?” He says the words coldly, like he is detached from them.

I’ve never been considered smart by any means, and I hate being told I can’t have something.

It only makes me want it more.

But the desire to fight dies as I see the pain in his gaze.

The loneliness.

The guilt.

And I realize Matty is a caged tiger. He’s been in captivity too long. He’s afraid of what is beyond his cage.

He’s afraid of me.

“I understand,” I say softly.

And in an instant, those glistening gray eyes shift to something more familiar.

Cold, sexy, and in charge.

“Good. I’m glad we’ve come to an understanding.” He opens the door for me, nodding for me to go in first.

I nod back, feeling a sense of defiance.

I slide through the door, brushing against his body—much more purposefully this time—which places my ass right over his groin.

I don’t miss the thinly veiled grunt that leaves his throat, or the way he grinds his jaw.

I smirk even though he can’t see me. “Thanks, Matty,” I say with sarcasm as I leave him alone once more.