Page 51 of Rock Strong

“Oh, shit,” Corbin muttered, putting down the drink he’d been bringing me.

“He’s in that room, isn’t he?” I stared at the closed door. I didn’t need to hear the answer. I already knew. And the worst feeling of all? I knew that I had no right to him. I had none. Zero. So I had slept with him twice, three times this week, that was it. So we had talked about having feelings for each other. So we had intimate conversations and times involving balconies and bathtubs. Big deal.

I was still nobody to him, apparently.

It was why I’d spent the day alone. While he did whatever he wanted, because he could—he was the star of the show, my boss, his own man. He didn’t have to answer to anyone, least of all a girlfriend. Of course not.

So it wasn’t because of any feelings of possession on my part that I cleaved the room in two, charging for the closed door, dressed to kill and ready to expose. It was because I’d been stupid. I was furious, yes, but with myself. I’d been so incredibly naïve, so clueless and gullible to believe that Liam might actually keep his promise to tell me first if he had no plans to be true to me. And to think we could have had anything worthwhile together after only a week.

So. Incredibly. Stupid.

I only wanted him to know that I knew. And yet, a part of me hoped I’d be wrong. That I’d find him inside that room sleeping, feeling sick, playing charades, anything. I would much rather take the embarrassment of making a fool out of myself than proving myself right. Liam said I knew it all—it was one of the reasons he liked me.

“Let’s see if I’m right,” I muttered.

“Abby…Abby…” Someone called after me. I felt strong hands wrapping around my upper arms. “You don’t want to do that.” It was Wes, the only person here who truly cared about me, warning me, trying to protect me. Of all these rock stars, Wes was the only one who actually rocked. “Abby, it’s not worth it.”

I reached the door as Tucker and Corbin tried to fend me off, but Wes put out a hand to placate them. “Guys, it’s not our problem. Leave her be.” He turned a worried expression on me and backed away.

“Whatever, bro,” Tucker said, throwing his hands up.

“It’s not like he invited her here,” I heard Corbin say as my hand turned the doorknob. “That was your doing, dickhead.”

“Me?” Tucker and Corbin argued over whose fault this was, but I couldn’t pay attention. I turned the knob, hearing the collective silent gasps around the room. Maybe she was just visiting. Maybe they would just be talking, sorting things out. Still I had to know. I had the right to be there. We’d made love repeatedly. It did mean something.

I let the door fly.

Nightmares do come true, but I had to say, this wasn’t my worst nightmare. My worst nightmare would’ve been my husband doing this to me one day. Luckily, Liam wasn’t my husband. Just a mistake that would haunt me for a while. Giselle Vici, lingerie model and Liam’s last summer fling, was doing what she did best—straddling Liam, holding his head in her hands, pushing her naked breasts against him, kissing him while his hands sat loosely on her waist.

Kissing my Liam.

I wiped my eyes and told myself to shut up. He was never, not now, not ever mine.

This is your own fault, Abby. You didn’t listen to your own warnings.

I hated him at that moment. Hated myself more for not listening, for letting my heart and body dictate my life.

“Nice,” I said. One word, that was it.

He didn’t seem to be too into it—I’d give him that much—but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter, because this was over. I would never let anyone into my heart or bed ever again.

He looked up, the worst case of “oh, shit” disgracing his face. His jaw dropped open, and he moved his mouth to speak. The hands came off Giselle’s waist.

“Don’t…” I held back the stream of curse words dying to be released.

Liam stood, pushing Giselle aside, her long legs teetering from his force. She pouted her lip-gloss-less lips.

“Nothing’s happened, Abby.” The lip gloss was all over his mouth and cheeks.

“Yes, I see how absolutely nothing is happening.” I turned and fled the room to oh’s and ugh’s from Liam’s brotherhood. I never belonged here in the first place. I would call my mom and tell her I was coming home. I would find another way to make a buck that didn’t involve heartbreak and humiliation.

I ran through the room, blind rage building inside of me. If just one more of those assholes got in my way and tried to stop me, I would use the few martial arts moves I knew and give them reason to perpetuate the Asian Persuasion stereotype.

“Abby, come back, please,” Liam called. “Let’s talk about this.”

“Fuck you!” I screamed, turning the corner where all the equipment was lined up, ready to pack and load onto the buses. I grabbed the first guitar I saw, a red bass propped up next to a row of amplifiers, and lifted it high into the air.

“No! Not that one!” someone cried from somewhere behind me—Corbin—but I couldn’t stop, couldn’t control the fury in my heart. They were rock stars. They had money. They could buy a new one. Fuck them.

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