Page 546 of Rock Me All Night
10
After work, I change into a cocktail dress and wedges in the backroom. For a second, I consider doing as Pete asked and skipping the underwear, but I can't muster up the nerve.
He's due to pick me up in ten minutes. I boot up my phone to pass the time.
Damn. I have a hundred new texts, a few dozen missed calls. My Facebook is slammed with people who want to get in touch. There are lots of questions and comments but most of them boil down to the same thing:
Oh my God, Jess, is that you with Pete Steele? No fucking way! He's so hot, you lucky bitch.
All of a sudden, all the friends who chose Nathan over me desperately want to talk to me. One measly video making out with a rock star and I'm Ms. Popularity.
My thumb hovers over my cell screen. I should feel powerful, victorious—my old friends, the ones who were perfectly happy to ignore me, are desperate to talk to me now that I'm a rock star's girlfriend.
My stomach churns. I don't feel powerful. Instead, my head is heavy and my shoulders are tense. Those friends felt real, once upon a time. But they don't care about me. They never did. I'm still a tool to them.
How the hell am I supposed to know who I can trust when I can't trust my sister?
My phone buzzes in my hands. Pete. He's here. I wipe my misty eyes. I'm celebrating tonight. No matter how much the thought of Madison still makes my stomach clench.
I shove my phone back into my purse and shoot Rick a goodbye forever wave on my way out the door.
There's Pete, leaning against the passenger side door of his black Tesla. He's wearing black jeans and a black button-up t-shirt. He's wearing eyeliner again. A hint. Just enough to make it impossible to avoid staring into his deep brown eyes.
The smile falls off his lips as he takes me in. "What's wrong?"
I shake my head and smooth my cocktail dress. "Nothing."
He squeezes my hands and pulls my body into his. "Let's try again. What's wrong?"
"All my old friends want to talk to me."
"Fuck. I forget to tell you I posted those pictures from the park." He tilts his chin so he's looking down at me. "I'll make it up to you."
"I knew you would. That's not the problem."
"It killed me when I first realized it." He presses his palm between my shoulder blades. "That people are willing to use you like that—" He snaps his fingers.
There's an ocean of sadness in his eyes.
The feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach deepens. I'm using him to get what I want. He's using me to get what he wants. Is either of us really any better than the friends who want to talk to me because of my access to a celebrity?
"You aren't using me, Jess." He stares back at me. "I offered you a rate for a gig. You accepted."
"So that makes me a contractor?"
He chuckles. "You're gonna be a fantastic lawyer."
"I want to get everything straight." I want to be sure where he stands with this wholedon't want a girlfriend, my heart is closedthing.
"Guess so. But we're still friends. We're not going to fall in love, but we're gonna fucking enjoy ourselves."
I nod. I don't like love being totally off the table, but it's better that way. Safer.
Pete opens the car door for me and helps me inside.
"Have you ever had to keep up appearances because of your fame before?" I ask.
"Can't make a scene. But that's not my thing. Don't have to work at it."
