Page 35 of Starstruck
Which is exactly what got us into this mess in the first place.
“You following me, Trouble?”
She crosses her arms over her chest, forcing the slightest bit of distance between us as she scoffs. “Sorry, Lover Boy. You’re not that special.”
I narrow my eyes when she hesitates, urging her to continue.
She rolls her lips together as she flicks her gaze from mine. “I work here. I’m a music publisher an—” she quickly cuts herselfoff, the weight of her words surrounding me.
I take a step back from her as my brows pull together, a look of betrayal no doubt written on my face.
Jeremy’s words echo in my mind, and my shoulders fall. I should’ve clued in when he mentioned her name in relation to it, but the second the wordLennonfell from his lips, my ears started ringing and all I could focus on was her.
So itwasher I saw that day at the elevators. It must have been.
“Why didn’t you tell me? You knew I was signed here, didn’t you?” are the first things I can think to ask. I ignore the fact that she didn’t finish her sentence and only worry about why she hid this from me.
“You being signed here is exactly why I didn’t tell you.” Her face softens. “It was just one night, Baxter. We agreed.”
My shoulders drop in understanding.It was just one night. “You didn’t want me to be able to find you afterward.”
She shrugs. “Clearly, that backfired.”
I turn my back to her, pacing the floor for a moment. But when I face her again, it doesn’t escape me that even though I’ve given her space to leave the room now, she hasn’t.
I sigh, running a hand through my hair as I approach her. “Okay, but that doesn’t answer my next question. Why don’t you want me to perform at the benefit concert?”
“Why do youwantto?” she returns. “It’s not your usual scene.”
“I never said I did,” I confess. “But it’s for a good cause, and it sounds like it could be fun.” With her there, I know it would be.
Her brows furrow as she meets my eyes. “You know it’s for Mothers Against Drunk Driving, right? So no alcohol is permitted. Like,at all.”
I tilt my chin down. “Jeremy mentioned that.”
“You’re one of the world’s biggest rock stars. I know you like to drink.”
I huff a laugh. “That doesn’t mean I have to. I can have funwithout alcohol. I did that night.” I take a step closer to her, reminding her how sober I was the night we spent together. “You recall that my mom was also killed by a drunk driver, right? If there were any benefit concert I’d want to be part of, it would be this one. So, why don’t you want me there?”
Her face falls, the reminder of my mom hitting her exactly how I intended it to. But then she sighs, a look of contemplation crossing her features, which tells me there’s definitely more to why she doesn’t want me involved.
“C’mon, Trouble. You know the show would be bigger with my name attached. So, why don’t you want it to be?”
She groans, catching her bottom lip between her teeth as she avoids my gaze. “You have a reputation, Baxter…one I don’t need associated with this concert. Trouble—not me—follows you everywhere you go.”
I smirk at her use of my nickname for her, even if she’s not referring to herself.
She’s not wrong—I do have a reputation. There’s a reason my name is often coupled with the wordsnotoriousorinfamous. I have a history of making bad decisions and not giving a fuck about who I hurt along the way. I prioritize my wants and needs over just about everything else.
I’ve been arrested. I’ve gotten into fights in public. I’ve drank too much and done things most people would regret. There are way too many pictures of me out there, with a different woman on my arm in every one. And I can get out of anything just by saying my name, which doesn’t help people’s opinions of me.
I should feel guilty, but I don’t. I’ve never had a reason to give a fuck about what someone else thinks of me. I’ve lived my life for myself and myself only.
Or at least, I did.
Until that day two months ago when I discovered the eyes of the face on the man responsible for the deaths of Audrey and Brennan resembled ones I’ve only seen in my nightmares for thepast eleven years. So I walked into a dimly-lit dive bar ready to drink my sorrows away and found Lennon instead.
My friends would lose their minds if they knew just how much I think about her. Hell, they still have no idea who theheris, though I think it’s about damn time they do.
