Playing Patience (Blow Hole Boys 1) - Page 95

I was walking back to my car when suddenly someone stepped out of the shadows and pulled me into the darkness between two buses. They shoved their hand over my mouth and pressed me up against the back of a bus. It was so dark I couldn’t see anything.

The person holding me pressed their large body against mine and softly pushed a lock of hair out of my face before running a hot finger down my cheek. Warm, minty breath struck my lips as he moved his face close to mine and nuzzled my chin.

Great, I was being raped by a romantic. Then I heard a familiar deep chuckle and I felt happiness bloom throughout my entire body.

“Damn, snowflake, if you get any hotter you’ll melt.”

And then his hand was gone and his lips were on mine.

Twenty-Seven

Zeke

My dreams were coming true. The guys and I were getting everything we wanted. A damn good record contract was signed with LA Records and we had to move to California. We were in the middle of recording our first record. It should’ve been the happiest time in my life, but everything felt wrong.

Leaving the East Coast without being able to say good-bye to my snowflake was by far the hardest thing I’d ever done. I called and texted until I couldn’t call and text anymore and then finally her phone was disconnected. I searched for her and even asked Megan what the deal was, but nothing. It was as if she’d disappeared off the face of the earth and I felt like I’d disappeared with her.

When I was packing to leave for California, I found her happy meal Optimus Prime toy and I cried a little. I wasn’t much for crying. To me, crying was for weak assholes, but sometimes something would send me over the edge. A cheap McDonald’s toy did the trick that day.

Another thing that killed me was my guitar. I used to love my guitar, but now every time I played it I thought about Patience. I could’ve bought a new one, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. As much as it hurt to play it, it hurt more when I thought about sticking it in a closet.

The first time I heard one of our songs on the radio, it should’ve been a beautiful moment, but all I could think about was whether or not Patience would hear it.

“Dude, you played the wrong chord again.” Finn complained. “Snap the hell out of it, man.”

The guys were constantly complaining since I kept screwing up. It was so unlike me and I couldn’t let it continue any longer, so I pushed back all of my memories of Patience and swallowed down my emotions. I delved deep into the music and forgot about everything else.

I pretended to be happy, smoked entirely too much weed, and drank like a fish. When the guys brought home girls, I flirted and fooled around often, but I could never bring myself to have sex with any of them. It was a tragedy what Patience had done to me. I was more broken now than I was before she fixed me.

Months went by and soon I only thought about her every few hours versus every minute of every day. When we were invited to Rockfest in Orlando, Florida, I was excited, but more so because I knew by being on the East Coast again, I was also going to be close to Patience. It was a never-ending cycle of emotions that I was sick of being on.

When it was time to go to Orlando, I slept through most of the plane ride. Sleeping was my favorite thing. When I wasn’t playing, getting high, or partying, I was sleeping.

A wall of humidity slammed into us when we got off of the plane. We were put in a nice-ass hotel close to Disney World for the week so we spent that week getting drunk off our asses and hanging out at all the kickass clubs in Orlando. Four single guys could get into some serious trouble around these parts, and I should’ve been enthralled by all the beach bodies surrounding me.

Women were everywhere trying to get a piece of me, yet I went to bed alone every night while I listened to the guys in their rooms with whatever girl they brought back to the hotel. It was hell.

By the time the weekend came and we were setting up for Rockfest, the weather was starting to cool to a nice ninety degrees. I was still hot, but just not hot as fuck. There was a big difference. The crowds came in swarms and we were set to play later in the day. I hung out with other bands behind the stage setup and smoked way too much weed.

Once it was time for us to go up, the crowd had doubled. More than half the people were drunk and burnt from being out all day in the Florida sun. Women were on men’s shoulders with their tops off and the smell of weed circulated around the crowd.

People jumped up and down with our music while Finn dominated the crowd. Girls with T-shirts that said, “I’m a freak for Zeke!” jumped around without bras on in the front row. I nodded down at them to let them know I hadn’t missed them, and they smiled and blew kisses up at me.

Tags: Tabatha Vargo Blow Hole Boys Erotic
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