Wild Collision (Us 4)

8

Hollis

The weekend arrives and with it a strange feeling. One I’ve never felt before and don’t even know how to describe, but I know it stems from the fact I won’t see Mia for the next two days. Maybe longer, depending on her work schedule.

We have an understanding now, maybe even a friendship, though I still can’t help but rile her up at times. It’s too fun.

I don’t think the guys know yet. I pray they don’t and I’m not the praying type. They’ll skin me alive and hang me by my toes if they learn I’m hanging out with Mia, even if nothing is going on.

Which nothing is, but they won’t believe me.

I’d be lying too if I didn’t admit I think about her as more than a friend at times. I can’t help it, she’s gorgeous, with sinful curves, but for the first time in my life, it’s not only about her looks. It’s her. It’s how she makes me feel, her very essence. She’s intelligent, funny, independent, sassy, strong—

I’m losing my fucking mind over a chick—a chick I’m pretty sure doesn’t think the same way about me. Don’t get me wrong, I can tell she thinks I’m attractive, but … I can also see she’s not interested. It irks me I’m so tangled up in these strange new feelings and she’s completely unbothered. Maybe this is some sort of punishment. I finally like a girl for who she is and she doesn’t like me back. The world is cruel like that.

I remind myself I’ve only known her a week.

One fucking week and I need to stop feeling sorry for myself. By next week someone else will have caught my eye. Most likely.

It’s a lie I tell myself easily, but one I don’t believe.

This feeling is too new, too different, too fucking unique to be a fluke and gone in the blink of an eye.

I’m so fucked.

There’s a knock on my bedroom door and I mutter, “Yeah?”

Fox opens the door and pokes his head in. His dark hair sticks up in every damn direction.

“We thought we’d go out exploring today. You in?”

“Yeah, why not,” I agree quickly, because sitting around in an empty hotel suite pining over my boss’s daughter doesn’t sound like my idea of a good time.

“Cannon wants to leave in an hour,” Fox warns.

If Cannon says an hour, it means sixty minutes and nothing over. He has the look of your stereotypical brooding bad boy, but he’s basically the dad of our group, ordering us around and sticking to his goddamn schedules he imposes on the rest of us. It’s annoying, sure, but without him, our band would’ve tanked from the start. He keeps us in line, even

if he is a man of limited words.

I hop out of bed and shower, wishing I could wash away thoughts of Mia and have them slide down the drain, but it isn’t going to happen.

I scrub my fingers roughly over my scalp as if I can forcefully rid myself of my treacherous feelings for the redhead who haunts me when I’m awake and when I’m dreaming.

There’s no escaping her.

It makes me angry we have to hide the fact we’re friends. I curse myself for my reputation, and I curse her father for warning her away even if he has a point. I’m not good enough for Mia, not even to be her friend. Hayes knows that more than anyone. He’s a musician, he had a wild side in his early years, so of course he doesn’t want his daughter around us. Around me.

It’s me I’m angry at. Not him. I know my past actions scream I’m not a good guy. I’ve had more girls than I care to admit, but they willingly threw themselves at me, at all of us. It’s not like they were forced into anything.

But it paints a picture of a guy who only sleeps around.

And … well, I loved it. I loved the attention, the women fawning over me. But already in one week I feel disgusted at myself for thinking my fame should mean women dropping at my feet, mine for the taking.

Something about being stuck in this small town, in a studio with Hayes, and around Mia is changing who I am. I’m seeing things in a whole different way now—by not being in L.A. I see how the city corrupted me, all of us except maybe Cannon. How I lost sight of what truly matters.

The music.

The way it speaks to me.