Rowdy Boy

“No, I swear, I wasn’t.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I was just … looking for you, that’s all.”

My eyes narrow. “Why? What do you want?”

“Nothing, I just … I wanted to tell you how much I liked being with you after that concert.” Her eyes trail off. “You know, the kiss.” A blush grows on her cheeks.

“Okay,” I reply. It does nothing for me. That kiss meant nothing to me except a momentary distraction from what was really on my mind … the new girl. And I honestly do not care about this chick. “That’s it?”

“Yeah,” she says. “If you want, I can come see you again.” Oh God. I don’t like where this is going. “Maybe we can—”

I hold up a hand. “Look, I’m gonna say it up front. I don’t date.”

Her eyes widen, and she looks around as though she’s seen a ghost. “I was … I thought—” she mutters, stumbling through her words.

“You thought what? After one kiss?” I frown.

“Well, we had such an amazing time backstage, I figured—” She starts to blush, which is my cue to put a stop to this nonsense right this minute.

“No, sorry,” I say, averting my eyes. I knew I shouldn’t have done it, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was drunk on the music … and on the need to kiss someone instead of that girl staring at me from the crowd.

Monica.

Just thinking about her makes me want to storm out of here and find her.

And I don’t know why.

Why the hell am I so obsessed with a girl I don’t even know?

I shake it off when the girl in front of me sighs. “And here I was, thinking I could tell everyone.”

I frown. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you know, you … the greatest rock star in school and little ole me.” She giggles with a slight uptick in her tone halfway through. “It would surely be a good story.”

My eye twitches, and my lip curls up. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

“I just … like you a lot, you know. Everyone does.”

“So that’s it, huh?” My fist balls, and I lower my head to hide my rage.

“No, not all, I mean, you’re good looking, you’re sexy, you’re popular.”

“Popular,” I repeat. “That’s why you wanted me to kiss you?” I look at her. She’s smiling gently, unaware of the coils inside my heart, twisting it into a knot further and further until no one can break the bonds. “Because I’m popular?”

She tries to grab my hand, but I pull back.

That’s when it hits me.

The rumors.

They weren’t started by Ariane or her friends.

They were started by her.

“It was you,” I growl.

“What?” she mutters.

“You spread those rumors,” I growl.

“Rumors?” She gasps. “But I—”

“Don’t,” I hiss. “I don’t wanna fucking hear it.”

“Cole,” Tristan mutters from the back, trying to intervene, but I don’t even care anymore.

Yes, I’m a fucking hypocrite. I fuck and kiss girls for fun, but for them to go around my back and spread rumors about shit that didn’t even happen takes the cake.

“You wanted everyone to know, didn’t you? To be popular,” I spit. “Get out.”

That kiss didn’t mean shit to me. It was just a fun thing to do. But these girls … they’re only in it for the fame.

“But I can give you what you want. I know you like them easy, and I’m always available. I don’t mind sharing, and—”

“GET OUT!” I yell, pointing at the door.

She sucks in a breath and immediately runs off.

“Cole!” Tristan barks, sighing out loud.

I turn my head toward him. “What?”

“Really? Maybe tone it down a little?” he asks. “Every fan we lose is one we won’t get back. You know that.”

“I’d rather not have any fans at all than one like her,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Fine. Whatever. Don’t direct your anger at me. I’m not your fucking problem, okay?” he says, sighing. “Now, can we finally get back to practice?”

My mind still reels from the adrenaline coursing through my veins. I tell myself I don’t care, but I do. Popularity. I used to dream about it, but now I wish it away. Every fan I’ve gained is one more person I can’t ever trust. Because all they care about is getting an inch of that fame.

I’m merely a tool for them. A way to get to the top.

A kiss with me is nothing but an exchange.

This is why I don’t get close. Why I don’t let anyone get close.

I sigh out loud and hop back onto the stage, brushing it off again, even though it happens time and time again. I pick up my guitar, checking for any damage, but luckily, it’s unscathed. No thanks to me. I should really stop taking out my frustrations on this beauty. She’s the only thing keeping me from quitting … and the only thing that has never failed me.