Rock Me (New Adult Romance) (4 page)

Yet, Liam’s stare in that studio was
anything but friendly. I sat in a corner munching on a fruit plate and trying
to look innocuous while sorting out my swirling thoughts.
What did he want
with me?

Adding to my confusion was my high level
of excitement. I was at a
Spin
Magazine shoot! In New York! When I
wasn’t sneaking looks at Liam I was staring opening at the gorgeous racks of
clothes being trundled around, the stick-thin assistants in their tight
ponytails and designer skinny jeans, and the thousands of dollars worth of
photography equipment.

The band was set up in front of a white
screen looking the best I’d ever seen them. They were all in tight black pants
and distressed work shirts with the fronts well unbuttoned and the sleeves
rolled up revealing their lean tattooed forearms. They looked incredibly tall,
imposing, and utterly smoking hot.

Liam in particular looked like he was
going to bust out of his shirt it was so sculpted to his frame, a fact that had
me feeling far more friendly than I wanted. His piercing eyes were now turned
to the camera as if daring it to take a photo. I tried to convince myself that
a little hero worship from afar was innocent enough. I was failing.

The shoot wrapped up and Liam immediately
walked towards me. I could see his band mates pointedly looking at both of us;
the vibe was anything but friendly. But Liam’s smiling face and his warm hug
immediately erased any feelings of unease. I relaxed into his strong arms,
enjoying the feeling of just melting into someone. He held me for at least a
minute, whispering in my ear, “I’m so glad that you came.”

We pulled apart and I began to feel
awkward again. How was I going to just be friends with this guy? Aimee was
right. This was going to be tough.

“You want to hang around a little bit?”
Liam asked. I nodded and we headed over to the food cart to grab some amazing
focaccia sandwiches with roasted veg and goat cheese as well as two steaming
cups of coffee, black for him and cream with sugar for me.

We sat on a black leather sofa together
amidst the bustle of assistants cleaning up the space. I tried to eat but his
delicious musky smell and the sight of that work shirt clinging to him was
distracting me significantly.

“Listen Shayla, I just want to apologize
for the other day,” he said, putting down his plate. “That was not cool of me
to just blow you off. You deserve better than that.” He sighed, running a hand
through his hair. “My past is something that tends to get me down. Not a lot of
people know about it so when you saw me reacting to it, I started to feel
nervous. I really hate letting people in about that chapter of my life. Not
even my band mates really know the story.”

I took a careful sip of coffee. “Can you
tell me? I know you’ve just met me but you can trust me. I’m happy just to
listen, if it helps.”

He sighed and placed a gentle hand on my
arm. “That means the world to me that you’d say that. But I…I just don’t know if
I’m ready.”

Disappointment flooded me. He didn’t
trust me, so what was I here for? I tried to focus on my sandwich amid my
renewed feeling of defeat.

“Alright,” I said quietly. “I’ll respect
that.”

“Thanks Shay,” he said. He tipped my chin
up and looked at me with serious eyes. I noticed then that he had long dark
lashes, a nice contrast to the severity of his features. “I hope one day to be
able to tell you. In the meantime, can we keep spending time together?”

I froze for a moment. “I don’t know,” I
whispered. “I’m so confused as to what you want from me.”

His hand moved up to cup my cheek. “I
just want the chance to spend time with you and prove that I’m a good guy. Will
you give me that chance?”

I was a sucker for second chances and he
must have known it. I hated to shut people out when they were hurting. I knew I
had to be careful but I found myself nodding.

He leaned back and looked more relaxed.
“So, I saw you eyeing those racks of clothes. How would you like to see some
that are more your style?” he asked with a twinkle in his eye. He gestured at a
blonde assistant nearby in leather pants. “Hey, can we see the women’s stuff
again?”

She looked perplexed but scuttled off.
“At first they wanted us to pose with some model,” he explained. “But I thought
that was way too cheesy so we sent her packing. But lucky for you, the clothes
are still here.”

The blonde came trotting out on sky-high
heels behind a rack of shiny, feathery, shimmery,
expensive
clothes. The
rack stopped in front of me and I couldn’t help gasping in delight. Of course I
loved clothes, but my budget was limited to mall offerings. I’d often looked
through the pages of
Vogue
wishing I could wear something that daring.

I leapt up and began to paw through the
clothes. There were lilac tulle skirts, pink leather jackets, raw silk blue
blouses, designer jeans, and lots of tissue thin T-shirts. I was happy just to
touch these exquisite fabrics.

“Wow Liam, these are so beautiful. I wish
I had the courage to dress like this.”

“You want to try them on?” he asked.

I froze. The assistant next to me raised
one arched dark eyebrow, which artfully contrasted with her bleached hair.

“Um Liam,” I said, looking away. “These
were for your shoot.”

“So?”

“So, they’re for a model, not a real
person.”

Liam looked confused. “Yeah but there
must be other sizes, right?”

The assistant looked at me scornfully.
“We only stock size zeros. Maybe twos if the model is a little bigger.”

Liam scratched his head. “What size are
you?”

Wrong
question. “Not size zero!” I sputtered, wishing the earth
would swallow me up. “Come on Liam, these clothes are clearly not meant for me.
What are you trying to do?”

Liam looked genuinely baffled. “I just
thought you’d like to be part of the shoot.”

I knew he was trying to be nice but his insistence
on shutting me out combined with the hurt I felt over his tall blonde past had
me overflowing with aggravation. “Well maybe next time maybe you should bring
with you one of those socialites you seem to be fond of instead. That would
make a hell of a lot more sense.”

I didn’t want to run but I was fed up
with feeling ashamed and lesser than. I needed to end this charade immediately.

“I’m outta here,” I said, spinning around
and making a beeline for the door. “Please Liam, don’t call me. It’ll just make
it worse.”

Weak light filtered in through the
curtains and spilled onto the old wood floor. I tossed and turned in the foldout
couch next to Aimee, unable to sleep and homesick. I missed my parents, going
for walks in the woods with our golden retriever Lucky, and nights out at the
movies with my girlfriends. Things just seemed a lot simpler back
then—even if ‘back then’ was only a couple of weeks ago. So much had
changed.

I sighed. I knew it wasn’t really the
move to New York that was bothering me but a certain rock god named Liam
Carter. I was starting to wonder if life would be better if we’d never met.
Then I could be enjoying a fun summer without the ups and downs of unrequited
crushing. After all, hadn’t I promised myself (and Aimee) that I’d never repeat
the whole Bobby thing again?

I turned over again impatiently. Aimee
stirred, moaning softly; she always slept like the dead. I looked at her
enviously and started contemplating watching a movie on my laptop when the
faint strumming of an acoustic guitar interrupted my thoughts.

The song, which appeared to be coming
from outside, sounded vaguely familiar. I turned over again.
Crazy New York,
I thought.
Things never get boring here.

I was reaching for my earphones when a
voice joined the guitar. Just like the song, the voice sounded vaguely
familiar.
What the heck is going on?
Curiosity piqued, I sat up. The
music and voice became louder, as if the musician’s confidence was increasing.

A suspicion began to dawn on me. My heart
thumping, I crawled to the window and opened it.

As I’d suspected, there below me was one
Liam Carter, acoustic guitar strapped on, playing and singing away like it was
totally normal to busk on the street in the dead of night.

“Liam,” I hissed. “What are you doing
here?”

He looked up and nodded while still
continuing with the song. I ran a hand quickly through my mussed hair, still in
my cupcake PJs. Even so, I wasn’t a man singing on the street at 3 a.m. That
had to count for something.

It was then that I realized I did know
the song—“Mad About You” by Sting. I wasn’t a huge Sting fan but I’d
always loved this romantic song, which says that even if we’ve achieved
greatness nothing is complete without love. Sting lets his vulnerability show,
revealing how completely lost he is to his feelings.

Liam played an acoustic version that was
beautiful in its simplicity. His voice wasn’t the strongest (after all, he was
a guitarist not a singer!), but the emotion in his voice made the notes come
alive.

I leaned on the red stone windowsill. I
was still mad at him but I couldn’t help feeling mesmerized by the raw feeling
in his voice and his skillful playing. After all, here was a breakout star
playing just for me at my window! I soaked it all in.

He eventually finished the song, the last
notes fading into the hushed New York night. Far away, sirens wailed. The streetlight
played in his hair. The scene was so romantic that for a moment I couldn’t
breathe.

“Liam, what are you doing here?” I
finally whispered.

“Come down,” he pleaded. “I came to see
you.”

I hesitated. “You hurt me,” I said
finally. “And I’ve realized that this isn’t going to work, whatever
this
is. We’re just from different worlds.”

“I’d like the chance to prove that’s not
true,” he retorted, a bit louder. “And I’d rather not do it from here, though I
will if I have to.” A light went on in a neighbor’s house.

Half afraid he’d wake the neighborhood
and half driven by curiosity, I sighed. “OK, ten minutes Liam.”

I threw my hair into a ponytail and
pulled on my sneakers. If he’d come to see me he’d have to see the real me,
cupcakes and all.

I crawled downstairs groggily and opened
the front door. There was Liam, dressed simply in blue jeans and a tight black
shirt, looking way too awake for the hour.

“Hey,” he said softly, kissing me on the
cheek. “Nice pajamas.”

I blushed and crossed my arms. “What’s
up?”

“How’d you like the song?” he asked,
unfazed by my crankiness. His green eyes gleamed in the low light.

“I loved it,” I confessed. “Sting isn’t
my favorite, but that tune always gets me.”

“Guy’s a pretty wicked songwriter. Knows
how to say it—that success just isn’t anything without someone to share
it with. I was thinking today after you left that I was trying to impress you
with that photo shoot and interview stuff. But I realized that while you think
it’s fun; you’re not hanging around with me for fancy clothes and burgers. I’d
rather be real with you instead and treat you with the respect you deserve.”

He paused and looked down at his guitar.
“I’ve never done something this corny. But I thought if I made an ass out of
myself you’d know I wasn’t trying to be fake with you. God knows, I can’t sing
a lick.”

I laughed suddenly. He looked at me,
grinning hopefully. “You’re a better songwriter and guitar player,” I said.
“But I liked your singing anyway because I could tell you meant what you said.”

He looked serious again. “Yeah, I did.
And I’m not faking, I
am
crazy about you. You may not believe it but I
wouldn’t be here if I didn’t feel something.”

Gosh, what could I say to that? I stood
there floored, not believing my ears. “Yeah, it’s a lot to take in,” he said,
smiling slightly. “Crazy guy outside your window in the middle of the night,
spouting out all kinds of emotion.”

“I’m glad you came,” I said quietly,
studying his sneakers. “I feel really confused now, though.”

“That’s OK, I’m confused too. You want to
take that confusion for a walk?”

“Now?” I looked up. He had a twinkle in
those irresistible green eyes. I loved his sense of adventure.

“Yeah, why not? I think New York deserves
to see those fine PJs.”

Which is how I found myself strolling
through leafy side streets in the Upper West Side at 3 a.m. in my pajamas. Liam
gently inserted his arm through mine, as if we were a Victorian couple on a
very inappropriate date. His guitar was still strapped to him. Emotion flooded
me and embarrassed I kept my eyes trained on the picturesque red stone row
houses lining the street.

“So Shay, what was really going through
your head at the shoot today? I wanna hear it from you.”

I blushed. I was never very good about
talking about my feelings. “Uh yeah I guess I was just embarrassed that you
wanted to include me in your life and I obviously don’t fit into it, physically
or otherwise. I’ve seen the way your band mates look at me. Plus the people at
the shoot treated me like nobody. Which I am, but still it’s not very nice to
be reminded of that.”

“Really?” Liam looked at me with
surprise. “The guys can be a bit standoffish but I didn’t realize that they
were being rude.”

“Come on Liam, they’re probably more into
the types of girls you usually date…” I stopped, putting a hand over my mouth
to stop the verbal diarrhea.

“What?” Liam looked at me closely, his
green eyes alarmed.

Well, I’d dug my grave I might as well
lie in it. “Alright, I confess. I Googled you and I saw the photos of you with
all those blonde models.” Liam groaned. “Don’t think you wouldn’t have done the
same,” I protested.

He passed a worried hand over his face.
“Oh boy, I can’t even imagine what you saw.”

This wasn’t exactly comforting. “Well
here’s the summary: you, a lot of gorgeous blondes, times 20 or so.”

He looked mildly horrified. “Let me
explain…”

“No Liam, it’s OK. That’s your life and
as I said, I don’t fit in it. I really appreciate that you made the effort to
come out here tonight and clear things up. But I think it’s better if we keep
apart. After all, I suffered for a guy before and I promised myself I wouldn’t
do it again.”

Liam was quiet for a moment. “I would
never want you to suffer for me,” he said gruffly. “That’s not what I’m about.”

We walked side by side in silence for a
few minutes, still arm in arm. New York was magical at night. The leafy trees
swayed softly in the breeze. Taxi cabs passed by almost noiselessly, their
headlights casting a wash glow. A dog barked in the distance.

Liam finally cleared his throat and
stopped in front of me. “I’ll respect your decision. But before we part, I want
to take you to breakfast. I can’t leave you just yet. I hope that’s OK.”

I looked into his face, so handsome and
strong but vulnerable. I longed to reach up and stroke that delicious stubble,
to kiss those lips. I breathed deeply. One last breakfast couldn’t hurt, right?
I hadn’t eaten much the night before and I realized that I was starving.
“Deal,” I said.

Liam hailed a cab and we cruised along
the silent streets. The sky was starting to get light. Liam gently played
Coldplay’s “Fix You” on his guitar, singing along as the cab driver ignored us
in the front seat. He’d probably seen it all.

We accelerated onto the Brooklyn Bridge,
cruising along as the magnificent horizon spread out before us, the sun’s first
rays lighting the sky. My breath caught.

“Liam, where are we going?” I laughed.
Liam only smiled his secret smile while continuing to play.

I cranked down the window and smiled as I
watched the Hudson River below us. The buildings on the Brooklyn side reflected
the first rays of light. I breathed in deeply. This was the New York I’d
imagined in my dreams and finally I was living it, thanks to one very crazy and
handsome man named Liam Carter. I’d always be thankful to him for this.

We pulled up outside an unassuming
restaurant in Park Slope. Inside it was cozy and unpretentious. Customers were
already inside sipping on coffee and eating eggs with the newspaper. We sidled
up to the bar on swivel seats. I ordered banana pancakes with bacon while Liam
asked for a burger with waffle fries. The server plunked down two steaming cups
of coffee in front of us. I immediately felt better. I was almost oblivious to
the fact I was wearing PJs in a public space. Thankfully, no one even glanced
at me.

“I love this place,” Liam confessed,
putting his guitar to rest beside him. “I like to come here to write songs
sometime when I can’t sleep. It’s totally chill, away from the scene.”

I smiled at him but remained silent. I
felt sad that this was to be our last time together.

“Hey Shay,” he said, leaning in. He must
have sensed my unhappiness. He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear and
looked at me with those soulful green eyes. I could see flecks of gold in each
of them. “I need you to know that the band hangs out a lot with a certain type
of girl. I was lonely so I asked a couple of them to come along to events, even
on dates. But it was totally empty. We had nothing in common; there was just no
connection. It was nothing like what I feel about you.”

“And how is that?” I asked softly. I had
to know, even if the answer terrified me. I studied my pancakes intently,
suddenly not hungry.

Liam reached over and speared a bite of
pancake with some banana. “Very strong. Like I want to date you, if you’d let
me.” He popped the pancake in my mouth and I chewed, feeling both elated and
like I wanted to sink into the earth. The rock god had feelings for me? Wanted
to date me? All my previous arguments suddenly evaporated. I swallowed.

“You like me?” I squeaked like a six
grader.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling his sweet
half-smile. “Whaddya going to do about it?”

Lost in the moment, I leaned forward and
he met my lips with passion. His lips were so warm and soft. I leaned in
further, feeling crazy energy wash through me. We kissed softly for some
minutes, just enjoying the feeling of our lips together. He was a soft kisser
but intense too—meeting my lips again and again, biting, kissing, sucking,
making me gasp for breath. He tasted so sweet and his tongue was so soft I
never wanted to stop.

“Is this you giving me a chance?” he
whispered between kisses.

“I’m afraid so,” I whispered back.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, pulling back
and looking straight at me. He gently cupped one of my cheeks with his hand. “I
promise it’ll be worth it.”

* * *

Aimee and I wandered through Soho, the
trendy shopping district in NYC. She was totally focused, looking from one
store to another, but I was oblivious to it all, a stupid grin still stuck on
my face. I kept thinking back to Liam’s intense eyes on mine, the sound of his
voice singing while we roared along the Brooklyn Bridge, the feel of his sexy
kisses between bites of pancake and sips of coffee.

I was almost totally oblivious to the
picturesque scene around me. The tall row buildings of Soho were painted bright
colors and had elaborate stonework and iron fire escapes. Fancy modern
furniture in neon hues competed for window space with slinky clothes in expensive
fabrics. Well-dressed New Yorkers cradling take out cups of coffee rushed by. I
noted this all with the minimum of attention.