Page 6 of You Rock My World

DORIAN

One Year Ago

“ Well, for starters, you’re too married,” Josie responds to my question of why she’d never date me, popping an almond in her mouth.

“That’s fair,” I reply. I don’t tell her that Billie Rae and I haven’t slept in the same room—or house—for a year.

I’m not a creep who uses a failing marriage as an excuse to step out of bounds.

Whatever’s happening with my wife is our mess to clean up—or burn to the ground.

But until it’s over—legally, emotionally, officially—the line stays where it is. “What about you, are you married?”

The second I ask I know I want the answer to be no. I check her hands as she keeps popping almonds—no rings. Thank f?—

“Yes.” Her admission hitches my sides like a cramp after exercising too hard. My chest feels tight, burning from the inside out, my lungs clawing for space they can’t find. At least until she adds, “To my job, sadly.”

I instantly relax but am still shocked by the intensity of my reaction for a total stranger.

“So, is anyone waiting for you outside this elevator? Boyfriend, girlfriend, an army of worried relatives?”

“Hopefully my family won’t notice I’m missing. And I have no significant other, I’m unhappily single.”

I react with a selfish phew . “Unhappily single?”

“Yeah. Sometimes, people claim they’re single by choice, I’m not.” She sips from the bottle. “But I’ve also never found someone I wanted to spend forever with. Someone I’d want to share my fries with after they swore they didn’t want any.”

I laugh at her fast-food representation of true romance. “Or maybe you have incredibly high standards.” I grin.

“Nah, I’ve just been unlucky, never met someone who made me lose my mind. My love life’s been one long flatline. Meh relationship after meh relationship. I never felt the spark with anyone. I want to feel the magic just once, you know?”

Yeah, magic is great. At least until it turns into a memory so faded, you start to wonder if it was ever real. “Suppose I wasn’t married, would you date me then?”

“No, you’re also too hot and too out of reach,” she declares, still chewing an almond.

“Too hot? Is that… a thing?”

Josie shrugs. “You’re the type women fight over. I’ve seen those Instagram comments. I’m not volunteering for the Hunger Games.”

“See, you have impossible standards.”

“No, it’s just that people like you are intimidating.”

“What? I’m not scary.”

“No, not like that,” she says, gesturing vaguely. “More… your life. Your fame. Everything about you.”

“ Everything? There must be a little something you’d save.”

“Nope. Let’s say you were the best man on Earth—looks aside.” Josie brushes an invisible crumb off her dress. “You tour a lot, right?”

The question pokes at a sore reality. “Not every year.”

“No, but let’s assume you weren’t married.” She crosses her legs under her skirt as if settling in for a debate. “How could you date someone with a normal job? Would you put the relationship on hold?”

Her logic lands like little darts of truth, inching too close to the bone.

“I… I don’t know. I never thought about it. Maybe she could join me on the weekends?”

“Right. Hop on a flight to Tokyo for a two-day cuddle break. Super convenient.”

I study a spot on the carpet. “I hope that if she loved me, she’d still want to try.”

“She probably would. She’d quit her job and become a full-time groupie, which would make being dumped afterward that much more tragic.”

Josie means to be funny. But her words hit me like a chord played too sharp. The idea of being loved that deeply stirs something in me that I thought had dulled long ago.

But instead of saying any of this, I ask, “Do you always say everything that passes through your head?”

“No.” She stares at the elevator walls. “Must be a side effect of being stuck in a malfunctioning metal shoebox.” Josie grins, those freckles of hers turning me into a willing captive.

I should let it go, but I can’t. “And in this hypothetical scenario, why would I dump her?”

“Eh. Basic celebrity math. You and Billie Rae are the exception.”

Or we’re about to become another headline no one will be surprised by.

“Can’t argue with that,” I say, struggling to keep the bitterness out of my tone.

“You two are one of my favorite celebrity couples.”

I swallow back the urge to correct her. What would I even say? Instead, I nod to mask the frustration bubbling underneath.

Before the silence settles too long, Josie pulls her bag into her lap. “Let’s see if there’s anything in here to keep us from doing shadow puppets.”

“What are you looking for? A portable movie projector? A travel chess set?”

“Close. Found them.” She holds up a deck of cards.

“You keep the weirdest things in that bag.”

“My niece loves card games, I always carry a deck.”

I eye the cards skeptically. “Are we playing Go Fish?”

“Go Fish? What are we, five?” She shuffles. “No, we’re playing poker.”

Teasing her feels like stepping onto a thin patch of ice over a lake: dangerous and unwise. And yet I’m committed to either making the crossing or plunging into the freezing water below as I say, “I don’t have any cash on me. Should we make it strip poker?”

“Yes, great idea.”

I cough, choking on air at how casually she agreed. My eyes roam over her figure, and I’m not sure I’d survive peeking at what’s under that dress. I’m about to backpedal when she adds, “But how about instead of stripping our clothes, we strip our souls?”

“How does one strip his soul?” I scratch my jaw. “Are you part of a cult?”

“No cult, but I’m a proud member of the Cheesecake Factory rewards program.” Josie stops shuffling and tilts her head. “The loser answers a question, honestly. No holds barred.”

Suddenly, the stakes feel higher. The thought of uncovering some of Josie’s secrets is thrilling. But revealing mine? I don’t trust easily, and never strangers.

She catches the hesitation on my face and drops the cards to grab her diary. She scribbles on a page that she rips and hands to me.

I scan the text and grin. She gave me a sassy NDA with a one-million-dollar damages clause.

“You got a million dollars?”

“No, and I don’t plan to spend my life repaying a debt. Student loans are enough.”

I should back out, keep things light and superficial, but I nod. “Deal.” I tuck the paper into my jacket. Not because I’d ever use it against her, but because it’s a piece of this night I have a feeling I’ll want to hold on to.

Josie deals the cards. I study my hand—high double couple. I swap one and stay with my double couple. She swaps three and beats me with a tris of fours.

“Time to pay up, rockstar. How did you become a musician?”

It’s a question I’ve answered a hundred times, but Josie asks it with genuine curiosity instead of formulaic journalism. It makes me want to give her a deeper answer.

I toy with the corner of a card. “It wasn’t a grand epiphany. When I was a kid, everything was loud—arguments, slammed doors, life in general. Music was the one noise I could control. Figured if I played loud enough, I wouldn’t have to hear the rest. And there was this girl…”

Josie smirks. “There’s always a girl.”

“She loved this local band, so I joined one too. Turned out I didn’t suck with a guitar and I could sing. Then everyone was paying attention. Not just her.”

“Bet she still regrets not having your baby in high school.”

“What? She didn’t even let me get to third base.”

“What a shame. They’ll put that on her tombstone: here lies …” she trails off, waiting for me to supply the name.

“Sandy Parker.”

“ Here lies Sandy Parker, ” Josie recites. “ Who went to second base with Rian Phoenix, but never let him get to third—bless her soul .”

I double over laughing, and something inside me shakes loose.

We play a few more rounds. The questions grow more personal. Josie tells me her biggest fear is ending up alone, that she once stole lipstick on a dare, lost her virginity in the back of a car, and dreams of being an extra in a movie.

In turn, I share things I usually don’t talk about: how I sometimes feel crushed by fame, how terrified I am of letting people down, and how I’ve never felt like I belong anywhere.

Next round, I win. I play it cool, pretending I’m not about to ask the question I’ve been burning to ask since this game started. “What’s your favorite song of mine?”

My music is the one thing I never second-guess, the only unfiltered part of me. But inviting her opinion? It means stripping my soul bare and learning if the rawest parts of me deserve to be heard.

Josie flushes red and covers her face with her hands. “Awww, not that question.”

“Why not? I’ve asked worse.” She didn’t flinch before telling me how she lost her virginity.

Josie drops her arms and focuses the full power of those amber eyes on me. “Because if I answer, I have to stop pretending I’m so chill about being stuck in an elevator with Rian Phoenix.”

My pulse speeds up not for the first time tonight. I’ve no idea what her answer is going to be, but now more than ever, I’m dying to know. “Then talk to Dorian.”

“Alright. But don’t say I didn’t warn you if you think I’m an unhinged superfan or a stalker.” Her eyes get shiny as she whispers, “It’s ‘Falling From the Same Sky.’”

And yep, a grenade detonates in my chest, leaving nothing but raw, open terrain behind.