Gemma
Hangovers suck. For once, I’m upset that the tour bus ride is only around four hours, because I don’t even wake up when we stop, ending up with my head in Axel’s lap when he gently shakes me awake.
“We’re in LA, Gem. Time to rise and shine.” As he speaks, he lets out a huge, jaw cracking yawn and I smile a little.
I can tell Axel suspects something happened between Locke and I, but I’m grateful that he doesn’t ask. For as much as he’d seemed like just a flirt and a womanizer, Axel has proved himself a good friend to me. He’s intuitive and can tell that I don’t want to talk about last night, and I’m happy that things have turned out this way.
Locke’s dead silent and won’t so much as look at me, but I’m not complaining. His eyes on me would probably make me blush all over. I wince a little as I get off the tour bus after Axel, and he raises an eyebrow at me, but doesn’t say a word. I had heard my girlfriends in high school talk about how sore they were after they’d lost their virginity, but I always assumed they were being dramatic.
Once again, I think that I owe my best friend Susie Carmichael from tenth grade an apology, because the ache between my legs, while not unpleasant, is certainlythere. It’s a long way from unpleasant, actually, I kind of like the way it feels, my stomach clenching with pleasure when I think about it, when I let myself remember how rough Locke had been. I find my eyes wandering as I get off the tour bus and Locke and Axel are unloading the luggage.
I see Locke’s forearms bulge slightly as he tugs out one of our bigger suitcases and I bite my lip, another memory hitting me.
I closed my eyes, lost in pleasure as he moved his fingers inside me, stretching me out, one finger at first, then two, and I was making these guttural sounds in the back of my throat.
“No,” Locke barked, and I felt his fingers in my hair, gentle at first and then tugging it into a ponytail, pulling so that my scalp stung. “Look at me when you come. Want you to know it’s me who’s making you feel this good.”
My face floods with heat and Samuel gives me a look, stepping closer to me and leaning down to whisper into my ear.
“Gemma Arden, did you lose your v-card last night?”
“Oh God,” I groan. “Shut up, Samuel. Not now.”
“Youdid!” Samuel crows and Jackson climbs down off the bus, conveniently having waited to get off until Axel and Locke had finished unloading our luggage.
“Did what?” Jackson asks, and I look at him blankly, too dazed and hungover to be quick witted.
“She admitted that she cheated that last round of Slapjack we played,” Samuel quickly covers and I could have kissed him if I hadn’t already kissed one member of the Spades.
Jackson laughs. “Only Gem could figure out a way to cheat at Slapjack.”
“I’m resourceful,” I quip, and Jackson ruffles my hair, which I hate, but this time I accept it without protest.
Jackson looks down at his phone.
“We made good time. Four hours until we need to leave for the concert. I’m gonna get some sleep. Wake me up if you order food, yeah?”
I nod. Jackson willalwaysuse petty cash to buy food and for expenses instead of his own money and lucky for him, I’d budgeted for the big appetites of the Spades. I’ll order five pizzas and there won’t be many leftovers.
When Jackson heads towards check in, I punch Samuel in the arm and he just laughs.
“You can tell me all about it later,” he teases, and I roll my eyes. I might tell him about it, though, because it’s not like I have a long list of female friends that I can call and tell.
I had plenty of them when I was in my freshman and sophomore year of high school, but when my parents were killed in a car accident one icy night, Jackson and I had to move a few hours away near our aunt and uncle and I was too devastated to try and keep in touch. Besides, we had nothing in common anymore. They were worried about boys and when they’d go off to college while I had dead parents and a brother who was working two jobs to help my aunt and uncle take care of me. I did my fair share of rebelling and sneaking out, but Jackson made sure I didn’t get into any real trouble. As a result, he spent every moment he wasn’t working with me, dragging me along to practices with various bands he’d had over the years, and all my friends had ended up being guys in the rock star circuit.
Not that I want to gush about Locke Kincaid, of course. But it would be nice to have someone unbiased to talk to…I may end up confiding in Samuel, after all.
For a few moments, I’m able to stop thinking about Locke and what happened last night as I head up to my room. He’s gotten on the elevator before me, thankfully, because I certainly don’t want to think about how he acted in the elevator last night. When I step out of the elevator, I almost bump into a man that’s standing in the middle of the hall. I don’t even have to look up to know that it’s Locke, and I let a long breath out through my nostrils.
“Excuse me,” I mumble, and Locke reaches out a hand as if to touch me, but he just hovers over my upper arm.
“C-can I talk to you?” Locke sounds uncertain, and he rarely ever sounds uncertain.
Shit.
I shrug, figuring that playing it cool is the best way to go. “I guess so.”
Locke clears his throat and looks around the hallway. I look down at the itinerary I have pulled up in my phone with notes about the room numbers I’d booked and inwardly groan.