chapter Fourteen
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The highway carries me from state to state, and I’m bearing down on the big city with every inch that I travel. My focus doesn’t waver once. The only thing on my mind is Slade Hale, and the only thing I’m concerned with in the world is telling him once and for all how I truly feel. Not how I feel about the rest of our lives, but how I feel in this one precious moment in time—a moment I don’t intend to waste.
My breath picks up as the glittering lights of New York City, as immeasurable and beautiful as the stars in the quickly brightening sky, begin to appear on the horizon. I don’t know anything about New York. When I was growing up, Philly was my city. There’s something enchanted and terrifying about the Big Apple that has always made it seem unattainable, unfathomable. But I don’t have time to be nervous, now. Slade’s tour bus has a head start as it is, and I need to catch him as quickly as I can, before he writes me off for good.
Men like Slade survive by segmenting parts of their past, relegating bad memories and missed chances to little mental storage boxes where they can’t do any more harm or cause any more heartache. I don’t want to be the wasted opportunity that Slade refuses to think about ever again. I don’t want to be a far off regret, held at arm's length and never again examined. I don’t know what I want to be to him exactly—a girlfriend, a playmate, a significant other. But I do know that I want to be in the present tense, always.
The New York skyline looms up before me, hard and imposing against the light gray sky. Soon, the air will be alive, and the sky painted with the pink and orange hues of sunrise. Soon, the city will come to life, and millions of people will rub the sleep from their eyes and begin another day. And today, I’m going to be one of them. Today, I am going to put everything on the line for this mysterious, frustrating, unbelievable person I’ve fallen for. And where better than New York to risk a thing like this?
I hold my breath as I glide into the Lincoln tunnel. When I was little, my mom used to tell me it was good luck to hold your breath driving through tunnels and past graveyards. But this tunnel is far too long for that game. I might not be able to convince luck to come along for the ride this time. All I have to rely on is my own conviction and the hope that Slade wants the same thing I do, deep down. I have to hope that he loves me as much as he says, as much as I’ve come to love him.
My little car emerges into the city, and I’m immediately overwhelmed. There’s nothing I hate more than congested, cranky city driving. Even at this hour, there are cabs and cars careening all over every lane of the street. I grip the steering wheel tightly, and anxiously try to keep my bearings. Annabelle gave me the address of the hotel where the band will be staying during their couple of days in New York. I just have to find the hotel, find Slade, and refuse to leave until he hears me out. Not exactly a cake walk, but I can’t give up yet.
Some dopey hipster on a fixed gear bike nearly cuts me off as I head downtown. There’s this wild, untamed quality about New York that is fascinating and frightening all at once. It’s like everyone here is a part of this huge organism, each person serving a specific function. I can’t help but feel like a foreign object, a germ about to be engulfed and defeated by the city’s immune system. I try to remind myself that I have every right to be here, but it’s hard to convince myself of that fully, especially in the face of my seemingly impossible mission.
I swing onto Houston Street, the main drag that separates the East Village from the Lower East Side. Slade’s hotel should be somewhere on this maddening main drag. All around me, creatures of the night are returning to their holes in the wall, to sleep off their hangovers or start a sleepless new day all over again. My heart tightens in my chest as I catch sight of a blinking neon light flashing the name of Slade’s hotel. The long tour bus is parked around the corner in a cleared alley. He’s so close, I can practically feel the heat of him.
Frantically, I park my car at the nearest meter and hop out onto the sidewalk. I throw as many quarters as I can at the thing and sprint across the intersection toward the hotel. Only when a car horn screeches at me do I realize that I’ve run through a red light myself. I skip out of the way of oncoming traffic and make it across, panting and shaken. I feel lost, and desperate, and alone. All I want is to collapse into Slade’s arms again, and to never leave. He’s the closest thing to a home I’ve found in the world, and I’m homesick as hell.
I slip into the lobby and feel the breath catch in my throat. The hotel is far swankier than I would have imagined. It’s done up in vintage glamour, all velvet and brass and intricate details. The concierge cocks an eyebrow at me as I step into the space.
“Can I help you?” he drawls.
“I’m looking for Slade Hale,” I say breathlessly.
“You and every other woman in New York,” he says flatly.
“Slade’s a...friend of mine,” I insist, “Please. It’s urgent.”
“I’m sorry,” the man tells me, “I can’t just give away the locations of famous rock stars to every wandering fan that shows up in my lobby.”
“Look,” I growl, stepping up to the counter and shoving my finger into the pathetic little man’s face, “I’m not going to stand here and be insulted by a glorified bell hop. You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about, buddy. I happen to be the woman that Slade Hale loves. If you doubt it, check out the f*cking internet, you sniveling little worm! Now. Either you tell me where I can find Slade, or I’ll stick that funny little hat of yours so far up your—”
“Julia!” cries a voice behind me. I spin around to see Annabelle stepping out of the elevator. She rushes to me and wraps me up in her arms. “I knew you’d come,” she whispers.
“Annabelle, where is he?” I ask, ignoring the confounded gaze of the concierge.
“He’s in the tour bus,” she tells me quickly, “He’s practicing, all alone. It’s now or never, my dear. Go get that wonderful, stubborn friend of mine!”
She pushes me toward the front doors, and my feet pick up beneath me. I tear around the corner of the hotel and into the alleyway. The tour bus looms up before me, impressive and foreboding. I take a deep breath and force myself forward. My hand is shaking dreadfully as I close it into a fist and rap on the metal door. I hear someone rustling beyond the portal. This is my last chance to turn back, save face, and forget about Slade Hale forever...and there’s no way in hell I’m taking it.
The door swings inward, and Slade steps down into the threshold. For a moment, his face is completely still, locked in an expression of distracted aloofness. But comprehension dawns on him. Twelve different emotions seem to pass over his features as I stand silently before him. Surprise, confusion, anger, elation, all battle for their moments in his mind. His mouth falls open in a wordless question, and I decide to make it easier on him.
“Can I come in?” I ask, forcing the scene onward. He nods and steps aside, allowing me onto the bus. I climb the steps, my legs quivering beneath me, and step into the main cabin. The bus looks even bigger from the inside. Rows of comfortable seats, a full kitchen and dining table, and the driver’s cockpit are all in plain sight, with room to spare. Through a cracked door at the back of the bus, I can see the corner of a bed. I try not to fixate, and do my best to keep a level head. I turn to Slade as he closes the bus door and stands opposite me across the way. We don’t speak. We simply breathe, take each other in. We both know this moment is too significant to mess up, and neither of us wants to begin for fear of bungling the job.
“Well...” I begin.
“Well,” he replies quietly. I can already sense the barrier he’s building between us. He’s trying to wall me off, and though I know it’s only to protect me, but it hurts like hell. I take a step toward him, and his every muscle tenses.
“Slade,” I try again, “I couldn’t just let you leave me like that.”
“I know it’s hard,” he says, “But it’s the only thing we can do. I won’t drag you into a world that’s going to hurt you.”
“There’s nothing in this world that could hurt me more than having you cut me out of your life,” I tell him, “I’ll push past paparazzi all day, I’ll punch out skin heads in mosh pits, I’ll get a full-body tattoo and a dozen piercings and none of it will hurt like the way it hurt watching you walk away from me.”
“I have to protect you,” he insist, his voice straining, “It’s my job.”
“No,” I tell him firmly, “It’s your job to care about me and respect me and be there for me. I can protect myself just fine. I’ve been doing it for years now, without your help. No matter what lengths you go to, you will never truly be able to keep me safe forever. And do you know why? Because the world is dangerous, Slade. Terrible things happen to wonderful people, tragedy falls out of the clear blue sky. There’s nothing you can do to completely safeguard the people you love —that’s not the way the world works. The best thing you can do is love with a full heart and do your best. Everything beyond that is just vanity.”
“Julia,” he says, staring at me hard, “I’m not talking about happenstance. I know that something could happen to you out of nowhere. You could get in a car accident, or come down with pneumonia, or god knows what else. Some tragedies aren’t preventable. But I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about bringing you into a place where misfortune and pain and corruption aren’t possible, they’re certain. My life is rough, and dangerous, and unreliable. Yours is stable, and secure, and—”
“Empty,” I finish. “Nothing at all happened to me, Slade. Not in my entire life. Not until you got your stomach kicked in and ended up in my hospital. You’re the first real thing to happen to me ever, Slade. And I’m not going to let you walk out of my life without a fight. You can’t make me.”
“I can refuse to let you in,” he counters.
“But why would you do that?” I ask, pleading.
“Because!” he shouts, slamming his fist against the wall of the tour bus, “I’m not worth the risk, Julia! I’m not worth you getting hurt.”
“That’s the thing,” I say, closing the space between us, “You are worth it. You’re the only thing that is.”
“I wish I could believe that, Julia,” he says, stock still as I approach him. “I want to be with you, Julia, I really—”
He stares at me long and hard. All of a sudden, it’s like we’re back in the hospital again, trading bits and pieces of ourselves, feeling out our unquestionable attraction. Back before there were any complications, just excitement and possibility. It’s like we’re retracing our steps, fumbling to locate each other in a mess of baggage and fears and expectations. I reach out and take his hands in mine. His grasp tightens, his eyes bore into me, endless in their dark intensity.
“I want you to take me,” I tell him, my voice rasping with barely contained lust.
“But—”
“I’m not asking to come with you on tour,” I say, taking another step forward. I press my body against his, and feel the way he’s growing hard against me. “I’m not asking to be your girlfriend. I’m not asking you to marry me. All I’m asking for is—”
His mouth falls upon mine, silencing me. He wraps his arms around my back, and pulls me tight against his firm, eager body. I open my mouth to his, and bury my fingers in his long, dark curls. His powerful tongue glides into my mouth, filling me with the irresistible taste of him. I flatten my body against his, my breasts push against the hard panes of his chest. He swings me around, never for a moment letting a hair’s breadth of space between our bodies, and presses me up against the wall.
My short black skirt bunches up around my thighs as I wrap a leg around him, and pull him hard against me. His tongue probes deeper and deeper into my mouth, and I’m dizzy with the force of his kiss. I can feel the hard length of him against me as he grinds against my body, and the friction between our groins draws a deep moan from the very core of me. I tighten my fingers in his hair, letting him feel the sting of it—just a hint. Slade brings his teeth down on my lower lip, biting me just hard enough for it to burn. A sizzling jolt runs down my spine, and I cry out with pain and delight in equal measure. I throw my arms around his broad shoulders, pull myself up, and wrap my legs around his back.
I can feel his member bulging right against me, and a warm wetness begins to throb between my legs. Slade’s mouth leaves mine as he travels down the tender skin of my throat. I groan as his tongue flicks against the sensitive skin above my collarbone and glides expertly along my neck. I arch my back against the wall, rubbing unabashedly against his ever-growing hardness. I hear him gasp against me, and he takes me up into his arms, staggering back through the cabin to the room beyond the cracked door.
He kicks his way over the threshold, and I peer around for a split second. The only thing in the room is a huge king-sized bed. A deep, hard, pulsing need surges through me. My body’s been craving this since the moment I saw Slade Hale for the first time, and my insatiable desire overtakes me completely. I dig my fingers into his muscled back, kissing his neck deeply. I run my tongue along his skin, pressing myself to him. But I feel my body part from his, arch through the air, and land lightly on the soft, enormous bed. I look up to see Slade drinking me in with his eyes, lust burns brightly in his eyes.
I lean back on my elbows and let my knees fall apart, beckoning Slade to me. Without breaking our gaze, he tears his white tee shirt up over his head and throws it across the room. His sculpted chest is heaving, his perfectly defined abs tensed, wound up like a spring. His amazingly balanced body is poised and waiting to meet mine.
“Come here,” I whisper. I don’t need to tell him twice.
He falls into bed after me, pinning me beneath him. I throw my hands over my head and let him tear off my bright yellow top. Slade reaches around my back and unhooks my bra with the flick of a wrist. The garment falls away, and my breasts spill out. Slade takes them in his strong hands, running his thumbs over my nipples. They spring up, hard and erect, and he lowers his mouth to them. I gasp as he takes my nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue against the tender little peak. His hands knead and rub my breasts like he’s trying to memorize the feel of them. I close my eyes, relishing in his touch, pressing against the hard bulge of his that’s throbbing against my sex.
I draw Slade’s mouth back to mine, and I kiss him fiercely as I roll on top of him. I unbutton my short skirt and slide it down my thighs, tossing it away toward our growing pile of clothes. I kneel between Slade's legs, I'm wearing nothing but a black lace thong...My hands fall to his belt, I rip open the buckle and draw his jeans down his perfectly muscled legs. His long, thick member springs up, unhindered by sheaths of denim and cotton. I can’t help myself. I take him in my hands, and work my fingers up and down the whole hard length of him.
Slade's eyes close in rapture, and I straddle him as I stroke harder and faster. His hands find my hips, and his fingers dig hungrily into my skin. I poise myself just above him, my soaking wet slit hovering an inch away from his throbbing manhood. I let the tip of him glance against my wetness, and his eyes spring open, smoldering with need. I place my hands on his shoulders, balancing just above him, just over his massive, staggering member.
Our twinned howls of delighted satisfaction mingle in the air as I slide down onto this pulsating hardness. The tiny cabin spins around me as I feel him parting the silky flesh inside of me. He presses up into me, reaching depths that I never knew existed. I’m full of him, every inch of me. I let my head fall back as I savor this first moment of fulfillment and utter ecstasy. I can feel him grown even harder inside of me, and as I meet his gaze, the frenzy between us sparks and ignites.
I buck my hips against him, bringing him further and further into my aching, wanting body. He meets my every stroke, thrusting into me with a fervor I’ve never seen. I lean into him, and his graceful, pounding thrusts rub against my *. My mouth falls open as my body is filled with electric sensation. I can feel him within me, so deep it’s like he’s going to burst through at any moment. I’m engulfed by sensation, by impending bliss. I can feel orgasm bearing down on me. Closer...Closer...
Once again my body is in the air, spinning around. I land on my hands and knees, facing away from Slade. He slides inside of me once again, and my shattering cry rings through the little room. He feels so good from behind that it’s almost too much to handle. I lean into his staggering thrusts, moaning from my core, as he takes me in this new way. His strong hands are on my ass, digging into my tender skin. I throw my head back and rock back against him, harder, and harder. His fingers tighten, and I know that he’s close. I want so badly to come while he's inside me. I lower my torso and slam back against his long member, driving him straight through me, to that untouched spot behind my navel, the very center of my bliss.
I come, screaming and shivering with indescribable pleasure. Slade pulses deep within me and joins me in bliss, coming hard inside of me. We buck against each other wildly, riding the waves of our orgasm with vigor. I can feel him filling me, and I want every last drop.
Our motions slow, and I lower myself onto my belly. Slade topples down beside me, his arm thrown over my body. He pulls me to him, my back is pressed up against his chest. Even our breathing is as one. I close my eyes, committing this to memory: the two of us, naked and pressed in the back of his tour bus in the heart of New York City. If I could suspend any moment of my life into eternity, this would be it.
“Thank you for coming back to me,” he whispers into my ear.
“Thank you for letting me in,” I tell him.
“Will you stay?” he asks.
“Do you want me to?” I counter.
“Yes,” he says.
“Then yes,” I reply, “Yes, and yes, and yes...”
We lapse into happy, encompassing laughter, burrowing deeper into each other’s arms. We lay together for hours, drifting in and out of sleep, trading whispered confessions and fantasies and desires. The sun rises high in the sky, and though we both know it might be wise to roll out of bed and rejoin the world, our own little universe of two is too damn comfortable to leave so quickly. As the afternoon begins to wane on we finally realize that it might be best to venture beyond the paradise of our bed.
We get dressed and stumble out into the bright New York sunlight. The city surges and swells around us; a million lives unfold around each other. A million narratives, countless hopes and dreams and disappointments are met and evaded right before our eyes. I grab Slade’s hand as we make our way to a tiny corner restaurant. For this one moment in time, at least, my dreams are all fulfilled.