Page 23 of Wild Stars (Rock His World #2)

CHAPTER 23

Dare

I really am the worst boyfriend ever.

Though, I guess we’ve never really discussed our label, I checked the box for relationship preference as monogamous.

So that makes Matty my boyfriend, right?

I don’t want anyone but him, anyway. Not now, and probably not ever. Because even if he changed his mind tomorrow and ripped up our contract, I know I’ll never get over him.

His voice, his snarky attitude, the genius of his music, the way he can play me like a damn fiddle.

I hadn’t meant to say the l word, but I can’t deny the truth, either.

I do love Mateo Starr.

And I may have just fucked everything up. Again.

I chew on my cheese pizza in between bouts of writing. A knock on my door alerts me, and for a moment, I think maybe he’s changed his mind.

That he’ll come storming back in here and he’ll tell me he loves me, too, and we can live happily ever after like in those Hallmark movies my mom’s obsessed with.

I all but run to the door, opening it to see it’s only Richie.

“Hey, everything okay?” he asks, and I can see he looks a little disheveled himself. His eyes are glassy and I realize he’s upset.

Shit.

“What happened?” I ask as I pull him into my room.

He puts on a good front, but I can see he’s clearly messed up.

And a little drunk.

“I fucked up,” he says.

“What, how?—”

“I might’ve told Hailee I loved her.”

“Fuck, is this shit genetic or something?” I breathe in exasperation as he attempts to sit on the bed.

The bed where Matty was just?—

“Don’t sit there,” I say, shaking my head.

“What, why?” he asks, then immediately his eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh my God, Dare!” He yelps as he jumps up.

“Oh, like you’ve never hooked up in a hotel room before,” I bite.

Richie purses his lips. “Who was it?” he asks.

“Richie...” I back away from him.

“Who was it... Was it someone we know?”

I don’t know why I tell him. Maybe because if I truly have fucked everything up, at least I’ll have an ally.

Someone to help put me back together.

“It’s Matty.”

Richie’s eyes widen. “Mateo? You’re banging Hailee’s brother ?”

“No!” I defend hurriedly. “Well, not yet, anyway. I mean, like, it’s a little more complicated than that.”

God, now I sound like Matty.

Richie busts out laughing. “Shit, is there something in the fucking water?”

He slumps down on the floor and I bring the pizza with me, plopping it between us.

“Eat some pizza, man, it’ll make you feel better.”

He doesn’t argue, only grabs a slice.

“So, I guess Hailee didn’t say it back?”

Riche sighs. “No, she did.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

At least she said it back!

“I just... I’m not good at this sort of thing, you know.”

“What sort of thing?” I ask, pulling some melted cheese off my slice.

“The whole relationship thing. Like, I know I’m twenty-six and I’m not, like, young, by any means, but...”

“Maybe you should make a contract,” I say.

“What?” Richie looks at me in horror.

“Never mind,” I reply, shoving my face with some more pizza to hide my embarrassment.

“What about you?” he asks. “You said it was genetic. You tell Mateo you love him too or something?”

“Maybe.” I don’t look at him because I can’t.

“And I guess he didn’t say it back?”

I shake my head. “I mean, I kinda dropped it like a bombshell in the middle of?—”

“Oh my God!” Richie smacks me. “Did you mean it?”

I bite my lip, nodding. “Yeah. But I think I scared him.”

Richie gives me a half smile. “We’re a fucking mess, aren’t we?” he says, his voice slightly slurred.

“Yeah, we kind of are.”

Richie pulls another piece of pizza from the box.

“Well, if we’re gonna both be messes, at least we’re hot ones,” he says seriously, and I can’t help but bust out laughing.

Richie laughs, too.

“More like hot shit on a burning sidewalk,” I say as I shove him.

And for the first time in a long time, I feel like Richie gets more than I think he does.

* * *

After a long day of sightseeing, press, and rehearsal, I’m more than happy to crash in my hotel room.

My phone rings, and I debate shutting off the ringer entirely, but on the odd chance Matty might actually text me, I don’t want to miss him.

So, I grab the phone, answering it if only to bitch at whatever extended car warranty assholes I have to to stop calling me, when I recognize the number as my Doctor back in LA.

I breathe a sigh of relief as they read me my results. I’ve never been good at tests, and this might be the only one I passed with flying colors.

And probably the only one that really matters.

I lean back on my bed, letting my exhaustion and my relief take hold.

* * *

When I wake up, it’s to the sound of a knock on my door.

One glance at the clock, and I note it’s barely nine thirty, which means I’ve been out for nearly two hours.

I rub my eyes as I head to the door, opening it to see Matty.

Dressed in his usual funeral attire, with a literal bouquet of roses.

Black roses, to be exact.

“What the?”

“I’m sorry,” he says the words definitively.

“For what?” I ask, feeling like the air has been sucked out of my lungs.

“Can I come in?” he asks, his voice like velvet.

It’s not commanding, demanding, or stern.

It’s hopeful.

I can’t help but nod, appreciating the sight of him looking absolutely perfect with a bunch of flowers.

For me.

I step aside as he enters, closing the door softly behind him.

He hands me the flowers, and I watch as his expression shifts to one of guilt.

“I’m sorry for... a lot of things. I haven’t been the best...”

I watch him sigh, his shoulders sinking.

I don’t want to tear my eyes away from him, but the flowers are fucking pretty.

A closer look shows the edges of the petals are crimson red.

“Boyfriend?” I test the word in the air.

Matty purses his lips.

“I mean, you really should, like, clarify that on the form.”

I watch as he pulls a folded up piece of paper out of his back pocket. He grips it tightly, and I can see his jaw tense.

“He cheated on me,” he says slowly. “Even though he checked monogamous.”

His words are full of pain, and I can’t help but set the flowers down and take a step toward him.

Matty stares at the paper in his hand, and I feel like he’s about to have a mental breakdown or something.

I only took one semester of Psychology, damn it!

I am not equipped for this!

“He stopped returning my texts. So, I followed the rules of the contract and?—”

“Shit,” I say, feeling like the worse boyfriend on the planet.

“Matty, I’m sorry. I—” I watch as he stills, gazing down at me with determination.

“Before I met you, I thought I knew what I needed. Order, structure. The chance to care for someone, in the only way I know how.” He licks his lips, and I am powerless to move.

“I thought being in control of my emotions meant I couldn’t be hurt. That compartmentalizing things was what was best. I didn’t even miss being touched.”

He opens the paper, and hands it to me.

“What is this?” I ask as I take it from him.

“Me,” he says softly, his voice barely a whisper.

I look down at the paper. The form is familiar, a spot for a name, a section to tick off relationship preference. Everything looks the same until I get to the part about the roles.

When I signed my contract, I’d noted the box for “switch/vers” only because I was unsure of what I wanted at the time, and I figured exploring both sides might be fun.

But Matty hasn’t checked that box, or the one I expected he would.

My heart pounds in my chest like a drum as the air around me thins.

Matty’s checked submissive.

I glance up at him, to see him standing, perfectly still, his hands behind his back, and it’s at that moment, I notice his shoulders are relaxed.

“My test results are in there, too. Clean slate, of course.”

“Matty...” My voice is but a whisper.

I watch as he shifts his weight.

“My safeword is Icarus,” he says calmly. He nods at the paper in my hand.

I flip the papers, glancing at his limits.

My gaze dips to his preferences. Orgasm denial, bondage, and a few others that I can barely read because the weight of the situation has my vision blurring.

Tears beg to be freed.

“My results came in, too. Clean slate, of course,” I say as I try not to crumble into a million pieces as I fight to speak.

Matty’s expression is stoic as I flip to the last page.

“I thought what I needed was order. Structure. Control,” he says. “But what I really needed, Dare... was you.”

He takes one small step to close the distance between us. “Say something,” he whispers.

“I love you, Mateo,” I say, my voice thick with emotion. I grab his face in my hands, and I pull him to me, coveting his lips with my own.

Mateo Star doesn’t fight me. He only wraps his arms around my waist and holds me like he’s afraid I’ll disappear.

When he breaks apart from our kiss, his gravelly voice sings.

“You are infinity, a fire burning bright in the darkness, shining through space and time. My black hole, my supernova, my wild, wild star... and you are mine.”