Rowdy Boy

God, I wish I didn’t have the emotional range of a bull on steroids, but here we are. Sometimes I let out my rage in a bad way and only end up hurting myself in the process.

I caress my guitar. “Should’ve treated you better.”

We’ve been through so much together, but I guess every journey comes to an end. I just never expected it to be by my own doing.

But what surprises me the most is how quickly I overcame that anger the moment I realized Monica only did it to get back at me. I guess it’s true what they say about scorned women … never get in their way.

I learned the hard way.

And boy … was it hard. Hard to stay the fuck away from her.

Damn. It’s only been a few days since the concert, but I can’t get her out of my mind. Every time I look into her eyes, I want to grab her and kiss her until she’s breathless, until her body vibrates against mine, until she begs me to touch her. But I never wait until she does. I always pounce like a lion on its prey. It’s like I can’t get enough.

There’s something about that girl … something that makes me forget everything I was doing, everything I ever knew, and all I can think about is making her mine.

And I know she feels that same electricity pulling us together. The attraction between us is undeniable, so the only question is, why are we both fighting it?

It’s almost as if I’m afraid to get closer, afraid to fuck her up if I do.

But why do I care so much?

Has she already gotten under my skin?

I throw my guitar on the bed beside me and grab my phone. There’s no other way to find out what it is that I’m feeling than to get close again. That primal hunger that I felt when she wrapped her legs around my waist and I wanted to shove my cock into her wet pussy and lick up her juices until she came … that’s something I’ve never felt before.

Lust? Yes. But this need that pulses deep down in my heart? That’s new.

Maybe that’s the reason I’ve been pushing her away for so long, why I kept her at arm’s length, why I teased her until she had enough.

If she didn’t hate me, would I be able to handle it?

Because she isn’t just a fan I sleep with.

She never was.

I swallow and close my eyes. I told myself I would let nothing distract me from my goal, not even girls. They were merely toys to fuck, then discard when I was finished with them.

But for some reason, I can’t do the same with Monica, and that pisses me off.

And now I’ve even managed to piss her off as well.

I shake my head to myself and fish my phone from my pocket. I need to practice and earn some of that money for my new guitar, but my parents are gone, so who will notice whether I clean the house now … or tomorrow?

So I text my band.

Cole: House is empty tonight. Wanna come over?

Tristan: Fuck yeah

Benji: Course.

Michael: Party time!

Cole: It has to stay clean

Tristan: We can do that

Michael: Sure, we can help clean up after

Benji: Totally

Cole: Not sure, guys…

Michael: Oh, c’mon!

Benji: Live a little, Cole

Tristan: Fine by me

Cole: Fine. As long as we clean up together. Keep it small

Michael: I’ll bring the goods

Tristan: Great! I’ll be there

Benji: Me 2

Cole: Tonight, and don’t come b4 dinner

Tristan: Got it. You’re gonna love it

Cole: If you say so

Tristan: You need this, bro

Michael: Definitely

I close the app and sigh to myself, rubbing my forehead. Oh, boy. This is gonna be a mess. I can already tell from that conversation. But at least it’ll be a fun night, and I won’t be by myself in this house.

Besides, Tristan is right. I need some time to myself. Some amusement without rules or judgment. Nothing but relaxation, some music …

And no Monica Romero to turn my head upside down.

Monica

“Sooooo … Tell me how it went,” Mel says as she scoots closer to me on the bench outside school. We just finished all our classes, but we haven’t had the time to talk about the thing that went down at TRIGGER’s concert yet. After I’d fled the backstage room, the guard immediately pushed me out the door and forced me to stay outside.

I couldn’t find Mel anywhere, so I figured she’d gone home already, seeing as I was held up backstage for God knows how long by Cole’s twisted little big tongue.

“I couldn’t find you anywhere,” she says, “and the guard was getting suspicious, so I had to leave.”

“You don’t have to explain,” I say. “Besides, I was the one who stayed way too long.”

“Spill it. Tell me, how did he react?” she asks with a certain giddiness in her voice that’s hard to miss.