Page 41 of Give Me What I Want

“I’m your boyfriend, it’s what I’m supposed to do.” Still, he looked at Jordan. Even as I released his wrist.

“No.” I took a step back. “You’re not. It’s fake, Ronan. You know that. I know that. Everyone in this roomknowsthat.”

I backed up even further, and Ro finally snapped out of his trance, tearing his gaze away from Jordan and glaring at me.

“Is it?” he asked, his dark eyes piercing into mine.

I swallowed hard, desperate for someone to step in now, but no one did. None of my bandmates. None of my guys. Friends. Not even Garth, who was sitting at a table in the back with his face buried in a newspaper, ignoring us entirely.

I didn’t answer him.Couldn’tanswer him. Because yes, our relationship was fake. But I felt something for him. I just had no fucking idea what. And I was not about to get into that in the middle of our soundcheck. I needed to get the hell away from this place. Away from him. All of them. I didn’t want to face this yet.

So I let my body do what it wanted to, and I ran. I flew off of the stage, out of the fire exit, and down to the bus. When I was hidden away, I locked the door and only opened it for Isla when she came to do my hair and make-up.

Once she was done, I made myself a warm drink, then assessed the liquor cupboard and Mav’s expensive stash above the microwave. His bottles were still pretty full, but the shared cupboard was bare. We had only refilled it two nights ago, and I had been sober every second since. So had Ro and Mav. I knew that Cole had had a nightcap last night, but that was all. The rest was all Jord.

We were used to his drinking, and the drugs, but this seemed to be getting silly now. He was drunk almost every night, starting earlier and earlier, and now he was starting fights with Ronan. Something more was wrong; I was sure of it. But he would barely even look at me, let alone open up. I was lucky to get a few hours of him being nice each day, and those hours were usually filled with music.

With a heavy sigh, I closed the cupboard door, deciding that I’d talk to the other guys about Jordan tomorrow when I’d had some more time to myself. And that was when I noticed it. Stuck to the side of the fridge, scrawled on a green post-it note, was a message. A message clearly meant for me.

I know what you did, and I’m going to tell.

Enjoy your last days of fame, princess.

No one will support a whore like you.

I snatched the note from the fridge, reading it over and over. My heart rate had picked up, and a cold sweat started to coat my skin. I analysed, twisting and turning the paper, wracking my brain, waiting for that ‘ah ha’ moment that never came. The handwriting was unfamiliar. Deliberately unfamiliar. It looked like it had been written by a four-year-old, likely someone using their non-dominant hand.

The feeling of someone watching me crept up my spine, making me shudder. I turned, spinning on the spot, looking for clues, but what I was actually looking for I had no idea. Who had been on the bus? Almost all of the crew could access it if they needed to. But who?

My thoughts instantly went to Garth.

He knew, and he hated me. Ro and Cole hadn’t entirely shot me down when I had thrown out my suspicion before, but he had been so quiet recently. Whomever it was had been quiet. And that was presuming that it was only one person.

It could have been Garth, but there was the possibility that it wasn’t. Maybe it was someone who was jealous. Yes. Jealously could lead to threats like this. But who?

Then I recalled Isla confessing that she knew about us too. I knew that Isla went for runs with Mav each morning, perhaps it was her. Did she like him? Was that why she went with him? To get closer to my guitarist? It was plausible. She seemed to have a shorter temper than usual with me recently and was forever telling me off. And she had the easiest access. She had been on the bus today, and I had gone off to pee twice while she had been here. Plenty of time to plant a note, especially if it had already been written.

With two big suspects in mind, I paced, scrunching the note up into a ball in my fist, as I tried to calm myself down. I needed air, and I needed to talk to someone, voice my concerns, open up.

But I wasn’t sure that I could tell any of the guys. Not today anyway, especially not after I had stormed out. Everything felt fragile, and adding to that with a threatening note wasn’t going to help anything. It was more likely to tip the balance even further and end in tears. I wasn’t ready for tears.

So I un-balled my fist, flattened the note out on the counter, then tore open a drawer. Inside, I found a lighter and took the note over to the sink. I lit the flame and held it beneath the paper, watching with shaky hands as the poorly written letters turned to ash. The smell stung my nostrils as I inhaled what I needed to be a calming breath and exhaled with a puff, blowing out the flame on the final corner of the paper before it burned my skin. I dropped it into the sink, then turned on the faucet, rinsing down the shred of paper and whisps of ash until the silver basin was clean again.

I was half tempted to try to call Sab, and a small part of me wondered if I should speak with Cece about it all, but I decided against both ideas for now. I’d keep this to myself. Ignore it for tonight and carry on as though it hadn’t happened. If I could pretend to date my bassist, I could pretend that I didn’t feel entirely uneasy and on edge.

And with my mask pulled into place, I made my way down the steps of the bus and out into the warm evening.

The guys waited until I was inside the venue before they bothered getting themselves ready for our show, giving me the space that I needed. For once.

Backstage, I sat in a dark corner and only spoke to Cece. She stayed with me for the majority of the evening, up until her guys went on stage. I’d had reservations about letting her get closer to me, but tonight had proved to me that she was good, a good girl who’d be a great, genuine friend.

Each of the guys had tried to get my attention, and Jordan had stumbled over, attempting to come and apologise to me, telling me that he wasn’t sure what had come over him, but I had brushed him off with a wave of my hand, telling him to go get a coffee and try to sober up a little before we went on, not ready to deal with anything more than that. I just wanted to play, then hide away and sleep.

That was until I finally looked up from the bottle of water in my hands and noticed Ronan. He was sitting on one of the big sofas, and on his lap, was a tiny little blonde thing. Her fingers were pushing through his hair, and he was smirking at her as she giggled and thrust her tits up into his face. His gaze suddenly caught onto mine, and his eyes sparkled as his smirk became even smugger.

Heat flushed my face, making me want to run outside, and when my breathing started to speed up, coming in sharp pants, I almost did. Then I heard her.

“So, shall I wait back here for you after your set? We could go back to my hotel, or maybe you could show me your tour bus?” Her voice was too high, it felt like nails on a chalkboard. I clenched my jaw and tried to count to ten.

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