Page 17 of Stuck With My Rockstar Boss
Mika
I stand over in the corner with my eyes trained on Lucas. He looks like he’s having a great time and I’m happy for him, I really am.
But now, with our arrangement, I can’t enjoy myself. While Crystal and Lee snuggle up to strangers on the dance floor, I’m standing here watching Lucas and making sure he’s okay. I’m like a fucking therapy dog.
Okay, that’s not totally fair. I mean, he asked me to sing with him on stage. Surely, that means something. Not that it has to mean anything. I just hope it does. I can’t help it. I really hope he likes me. I hope he likes me a lot.
Because I like him a lot. More than like. I have been trying to avoid the thought, but it’s hard. When I watch him onstage, tromping around without a shirt on, I just imagine running my hands down his sweaty chest and pushing my hips up against him.
Lucas Tremaine is a rockstar, and I’m only human.
When he told me he wanted to go out, I couldn’t help but ask, “Are you sure?” He said he was. What am I supposed to do? I’m his chaperone, not his mom.
He’s been chatting away with some of the roadies, knocking back shots with whoever asks. I’ve spent the evening walking the perimeter and trying to discourage any girls I see from going up to him. I use lines like “Yeah, his girlfriend would totally pull your extensions out,” and “I heard he’s got a tiny dick.” I can’t help but giggle to myself. It’s just hearsay, no harm done. And besides, he kind of deserves it for abandoning me over here.
Lucas didn’t explicitly say that I should keep girls away from him. He just asked if I could keep an eye out for anyone who could be weird. Well, anyone could be weird. Most weirdos don’t even look that weird, that’s what makes them weird.
Somehow, though, one of these girls slips through the cracks. A redhead in a tight little black dress sidles up beside him at the bar and cuts into his conversation. I’ve been that girl; I know what it’s like. She wants his attention. So, she touches his shoulder and leans close to him, so close he’s visibly leaning away. Lucas starts scanning the room while attempting to be polite to this girl. He’s looking for me. And the fear in his eyes is palpable.
I cross the room in record time and call out his name. “Lucas!”
He finds me and tries to smile, tries to say something. But it’s clear. He’s panicking.
I walk over to him and grab him by the wrist, yanking him away from the redhead. “Hey! We were talking!”
“Yeah. Were,” I spit over my shoulder. I feel bad for being mean. It’s really not her fault. But everyone is the enemy when it comes to Lucas.
I feel his pulse in his wrist. It’s fast. And over my shoulder, his breath is coming fast and tight. I squeeze his hand and head out the back of the club to the bold red exit sign. As soon as the door pops open, we’re blasted with cool evening air. Lucas trips out of the club and bends over, putting his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.
“Hey, breathe, breathe. You’re okay,” I say and put my hand on his back.
Lucas shudders away from my touch reflexively. I pull my hands back and seal my mouth shut. “Sorry,” he says breathlessly. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I say back, nearly inaudibly. The last thing I want is to hurt him.
I watch Lucas as his breath slows. He grunts and pushes his hand up against his chest. The poor thing… I’ve only had one panic attack in my life and it was brutal. From what he’s told me, it sounds like this is a regular occurrence for him. I’d suggest he go to therapy, but people get so touchy about that.
Lucas stands to his full height. He looks around; we’re in a back alley next to some dumpsters. “Fuck,” he mutters and leans up against the brick wall of the club. “Fuck me.”
“You all right?” I ask.
He throws a look at me, green eyes filled with fear. “I mean…”
“Sorry, stupid question.”
“No, I just…” Lucas stops and takes another breath. “I don’t know.”
I look down the alley. “Let’s take a walk around the block, Huh?”
Lucas nods heavily. “Yeah, yes.”
We start walking in silence. I check my phone; several texts from Crystal asking where I am and one from Jay who is asking what happened. I respond to both: “Taking Lucas back to the buses. That place sucked.”
It’s only half a lie.
We take the side streets, no main drag for us. Avoid any fans, any hubbub. Eventually, Lucas murmurs, “I’m sorry.”
I smile to myself. “What for?”
