Page 68 of Heart Break Her

The moment our set ended, I could think of nothing else but having her.

But as quickly as the kiss started, something rooted deeper pulled me away. Because I know it’s selfish for me to want her like I do, and it’s not fair for me to pretend otherwise.

Only now, I’m finding it increasingly difficult to remember why it matters. We fit together like puzzle pieces. I’m not sure if it’s the grief talking or something more, but when I’m with her, the holes in me fill up again.

God, she has me so fucked in the head that even banging a groupie wouldn’t get her off my mind.

Last night I had one lined up, she was hot in her itty-bitty dress that clung to her tits. She even followed me to my hotel room and tried to wedge her way in. But standing there, looking in her desperate eyes, all I wanted to do was go to bed. Because she wasn’t the woman my body was craving.

Fuck.

If this is Myth handing out payback from beyond the grave, then well played. The first girl I’m unable to resist is the one I shouldn’t touch.

I turn on my phone and scroll through my photos until I find what I’m looking for, stopping at a series of dark pictures of a night sky that don’t really show much of anything. I remember the night they were taken. Myth and I were lying on top of the tour bus, blazing, and I was pissed off from a trip to see my mom. She all but accused me of being a carbon copy of my father before canceling dinner to go out on a date.

Myth just laid there and listened to me rant. He was high as fuck and laughed at things that weren’t even funny.

After I finished bitching about my family, Myth rambled on about some warrior in the sky watching over us. He pointed to different stars, naming them, talking about them. I was too high to keep up, so he grabbed my phone and started taking pictures. He said he would tell me the story when we were both sober because I needed to know about the warrior so it could save me.

We never finished that conversation, and now all I’m left with are dark, pointless pictures.

So much for warriors. Or saviors in general, for that matter.

“Want to talk about it?” Eloise walks into the green room and looks me up and down.

Her sandy brown waves are freshly done and extra beachy. It appears natural, but I know how long it probably took to make her stick-straight hair look like that. I miss the version of her that came before all this, when she still had messy, dull hair and freckles not buried in makeup. I wonder if she ever feels like I do after being in it as long as we have—less human. I’m tempted to ask her, but then she’d want to dig deeper.

“I’m fine.” I tuck my phone back in my pocket. “You’re never the first one done with hair and makeup. Where are Rome and Noah?”

“Distracted.” She raises an eyebrow.

This is why Adrian tries to keep the pussy to a minimum backstage before the show. It’s too easy for one or all of us to lose ourselves in one of them, and he doesn’t like to risk us running late.

“And now I see they aren’t the only ones,” Eloise says.

I look around the room. “Last I checked, no groupies.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Here we go. I love my sister, but she doesn’t seem to take the hint when I want to be left alone.

“I saw your kiss with Cassie.”

“So what?” I pull a joint out of my pocket. If I’m going to have to listen to her lecture me, then I’m going to need to be a little bit more fucked in the head. “I kiss people all the time. My fans love me, remember?”

I wink, and Eloise pretends to gag.

“Unfortunately,” she says. “But I’ve never seen you kiss a girl like that.”

“So now you’re my bedroom police?”

Eloise’s face sours. “I’d rather burn my eyeballs out than police anything in your bedroom, Sebastian. Now stop avoiding the conversation. I’m not oblivious like the guys or going to judge you like Adrian. What’s going on with you and Cassie?”

I tip my head back against the chair and take a long drag. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

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