Stone Cold Notes: A Rock Star Romance (The Seasons Change)
Stone Cold Notes: Chapter 6

SHE SHOULDN’T HAVE BEEN HERE.

She wasn’t like us. A good girl like Wren didn’t belong in a place like this, full of depravity.

Adam wasn’t a bad guy, but he wasn’t good either. He covered that up with his bright, big smile and easy manner, but there was darkness in him he hadn’t exorcised.

I didn’t know if I was better or worse. I’d accepted I wasn’t normal a long time ago. Years and years. I made bad decisions, but not rash ones. No, my badness was calculated.

Wren wasn’t like us. She might have thought she could dance on the dark side tonight, but this wasn’t for her. No matter how good she looked cradled in Adam’s lap, her soft, round, petite body in perfect contrast to his long limbs and taut muscles.

Wren had surprised me by seeking me out each time she became uncomfortable. Not Adam. Me. She didn’t seem to like me. Could barely look at me. Yet her instincts pushed her in my direction for protection. Assurance. Comfort. I was the last person anyone would think to seek those things from, but for Wren, I was the first.

And now, she was on Adam’s lap, and my friend looked like a king. A cat king who’d eaten a hundred canaries. Touching her, whispering secrets in her pretty ears—and she couldn’t rip her damn owl eyes off me.

The slithering snake deep inside me had transformed into something out of Greek myths. A chimera. My serpent had a lion’s head, and it was roaring and clawing as Adam leaned down to touch his mouth to Wren’s.

I liked to watch. More than liked, I got off on it. Tonight was different, though. There was no pleasure in watching Adam with Wren. The feeling it gave me was ugly and visceral. My gut knotted with fury at the irrational yet undeniable feeling he was stealing from me.

Mine.

I was on my feet the moment his mouth met hers. Her hands were in mine before she had a chance to respond to his kiss. She was straddling my lap by the time Adam had registered she was gone.

I hadn’t known I was going to move. Hadn’t known I was going to do any of it. But now that Wren was in my arms, I wasn’t giving her back.

“What the fuck?” Adam hissed from behind her. “What are you doing?”

Wren’s hands landed on my shoulders to stabilize herself, but I had a vise grip on her. She wasn’t going anywhere until I allowed it.

“What are you doing?” she whispered breathlessly.

“I think you look better over here.” I pressed on her hips. Her legs split even wider, her center molding to my steely erection. The hem of her dress rode up to the tops of her thighs, and I tugged it down, covering her from view, but not before I saw a flash of red lace.

My attention flicked to Adam. His mouth had fallen open. His eyes were scanning my hold on Wren. He appeared more perplexed than angry.

“I want this one.”

His gaze jerked to mine. “What?”

I moved Wren’s hips in short rocks. “I want her,” I replied.

He wanted more of an explanation, but it was that simple. I’d never once wanted any of the women he’d fucked in front of me. I’d never touched them or even spoken to them. If I offered direction, I only spoke to him. This…this was new. Out of character. His brow pinched with what seemed like dawning understanding of the gravity of my move.

“Do you want to stay here?” I asked her. “In my lap?”

Her mouth fell open, and a little pant escaped. She was rocking her own hips now, just enough for us to feel each other.

“I—” She blinked. One of her hands drifted to my jaw. The tips of her fingers trailed over my scruff. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t want to leave.” I should have formed that as a question, but I didn’t want to give her another chance to deny me.

Wren smelled good. Better than I ever would have thought. Like green apples and fresh water and the summer sun. Ironic since we were in the thick of winter.

She felt good too. My fingertips sunk into the give of her waist, and her thick, supple thighs encased my hips. Her pillowy tits skimmed my chest, and like the rest of her, they were warm and soft.

“I don’t know,” she repeated.

But she wasn’t leaving. Her hips kept moving. Her fingertips continued to stroke my jaw. That was the only place she touched, and it was more than enough for now. It was overwhelming, but not in a bad way.

“You’ll stay.” I cupped her nape, squeezing hard enough for her to pay attention and give me a little nod. “Good, brave girl.” She whimpered and seemed to go almost boneless against me.

Over her shoulder, Adam shook his head. He leaned forward, bracing his hands on his knees, like he was ready to pounce and snatch her back.

I buried my face in her hair, inhaling her summer scent, and she let out a faint gasp. Her thighs tried to close, clamping tighter around me. My cock had been at attention for most of the night, but the noises she made when I touched her turned it to an aching, steel mast threatening to punch through the zipper of my jeans.

“You’re mine now,” I rasped against her neck. Her pulse fluttered under my lips. “I have you.”

“I don’t…I don’t—” She was flustered, but her need overrode that. Moving with me, responding to my touch like she’d been wanting this for ages.

Without intention, I took her fluttering pulse between my lips, sucking gently. Her skin was so smooth, it felt like silk under my tongue. Her breathy pants hit my ear, sending a wave of insanity straight to my straining cock.

Her cheek pressed against mine. She sucked in a sharp breath as I moved her back and forth over my length a little faster than before.

“Callum,” she moaned quietly. Only for me. Not a show for anyone else, though I sensed more than a few eyes on us. I owned her reaction, her need. This was about the two of us. “What are you doing to me?”

“You like this.” Again, not a question. To hear her deny it, even though I knew the truth, would be too much. A bridge way too fucking far.

“I like this,” she agreed so very sweetly.

“Yeah, you do. Jesus, fuck, you’re a good girl, Wren.”

My palms moved to her ass, taking two handfuls, holding her tight against me. I thrust upward, her panties and my jeans separating me from where I wanted to be. It was an exercise in frustration, but I couldn’t stop. Not now.

Her moans picked up, and so did her rhythm. Rocks turned to sensual rolls. She clutched at my shoulder and my hair, keeping her cheek flush with mine. My mouth nipped at her jaw and ear, the only places I could reach. I wanted to explore more of her, to taste her skin, but she needed me right where I was, that much was clear.

“Callum, you—” Her head fell back, and her lips parted. She pressed down hard on my cock, driving me to the same brink she was on.

“Use me.” I squeezed her ass, and my eyes fell shut. “Take what you need.”

And she did. Wren rubbed herself on my cock until she had to dip her head down and muffle her cries against my neck. This soft, surprising girl was coming in my lap, her limbs shaking, body quivering, and I was holding her through it. She mewled my name like a sweet little kitten, and that was it for me. I’d been holding back all night, keeping myself away from her, ignoring the ache behind my zipper, but hearing my name from Wren’s lips was the end of it all.

My cock jerked against her hot center, and my fingers dug into her ass so hard, she whimpered, but that only made me come with more force. Hot cum spilled from me, seeping into my underwear and jeans like I was fourteen years old again.

“That was perfect,” I rasped. “You made me come so hard. It’s never been like this.”

She made a noise that sounded like a purr as she nuzzled me and pushed herself deeper into my hold.

A minute passed, maybe two. Wren’s hot breath on my skin soothed me into a stupor. She was limp against me, her short nails scratching my scruff, the other hand working up the back of my hair. I wasn’t one for cuddling and afterglow, but I didn’t mind this. Not with her.

Somewhere, a glass shattered, startling her. She sat up abruptly, and her big, round eyes flew open, growing even wider as she took in the party that had been going on around us the whole time. We weren’t the only pair who had gotten lost in one another, not by a long shot, but there were a few eyes on us anyway.

Wren whimpered. “Oh my god.” She scooted back, trying to extricate herself from my hold. “What did I—?”

Already, she was filled with regret and horror. That had to be a world record. Especially since I’d barely touched her. We hadn’t even kissed.

“You’re fine.”

Her eyes squeezed shut. Her nose wrinkled. It would have been cute if she hadn’t been so distressed over being with me. That made it hard to take.

“I’m not.” She worried her bottom lip with her teeth, refusing to look at me. “I need to go home now.”

“Okay.” I helped her slide the rest of the way off my lap then stood up so I could steady her shaky legs. “I seem to have made a mess of myself, so I need to go too.”

“You don’t have to. Don’t let me take you from your party.”

Bending down, I spoke low into her ear. “I came in my pants like a pubescent boy. I’m not stayin’ here another second. Let me walk you out.”

She swallowed hard. “Okay.”

With my hand around her waist, I escorted Wren through the party, which had turned into something of an orgy over the past half hour. Adam was nursing his heartbreak over losing Wren with two women crawling all over him. He didn’t notice us pass by, but from the jump of Wren’s muscles, she had noticed him.

We passed through the black curtains and into the real world. Wren tried to flee as quickly as possible, but I caught her elbow.

“Wait.”

She turned to me with wide, glassy eyes. “We don’t have to have a big talk right now. In fact, I’d prefer if we didn’t. So, I’m just going to—”

“Your coat.” I held my hand out toward the coat rack. “Don’t leave without your coat.”

“Oh.” Crimson suffused her cheeks. “Of course. I’m not really thinking straight.”

I slipped her coat from the hanger and held it out for her. After a moment’s hesitation where I thought she might not allow me to help her, she slid her arms into it, and I pulled it onto her shoulders, then I spun her to face me again. Her hands shot up to curl around my wrists, but I ignored her and methodically slid each button through the fabric until it stopped under her chin.

“Don’t forget your coat either.”

I raised my eyes to hers, and she looked away, sucking in a deep breath, her gaze trained on a spot near the front door. Did I make her nervous? Even after she came in my lap?

“Thank you,” I muttered.

In the elevator, I sent a message to my driver that I was on my way out, then slipped my phone away. Wren was leaning against one wall, while I was propped against the other. She was trying not to look at me, but she’d also chosen to arrange herself so we were facing each other. Every second or two, she’d brave a glance, then study my feet. I never took my eyes off her. She made me curious. I wondered what was going on inside her head.

Neither of us spoke. We kept up a silent game of cat and mouse eye contact until the doors slid open to the lobby and my hand once again returned to Wren’s back, guiding her outside.

My driver opened the back passenger door for her. Just before she climbed in, she faced me.

“I hope you know I won’t become a stalker now, after…that.” She pointed skyward, toward the penthouse. “I won’t make it uncomfortable for you at work or anything. Don’t worry about that.”

“I wasn’t worried,” I replied swiftly.

“Okay…well…” she tucked her hair, “I’m sure it’s happened before, but that’s probably one of the pitfalls that comes along with being handsome and famous and a wonderful conversationalist.”

Her round, amber eyes glowed. I stared back, surprised she was joking with me.

“Sarcasm suits you,” I said.

She shaded her eyes with her hand. “Does it? My mother always told me it was the lowest form of humor. Plus, I was only being sarcastic about two of your three attributes.”

A blast of arctic wind had her tucking her chin in the collar of her coat. I nodded to the car.

“You should go home.”

Something sparked in her eyes. They were her biggest tell, broadcasting every single one of her emotions in high definition.

“I’m actually going to listen this time.” She climbed into the back of the SUV, stopping me from closing the door at the last second. “Am I taking your car? Be honest. I’ll get out right now and take the subway.”

She was taking my car, but there was no world in which I would allow her to ride the subway tonight. Even if it was something she did every other night. That hadn’t been on my watch. This was.

“Take the car, Wren.” I took her cold hand in mine and bundled it into her lap. “I’ll take care of myself.”

Her gaze lowered to where my hand still covered hers. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

I yanked my hand away, and her fingers curled into her palms. Giving me credit for taking care of her after I’d used her body to get myself off was bordering on obscene. I’d done the opposite of take care of her. “You shouldn’t have been here.”

I shut the door on her startled face and glistening eyes, waiting in the same spot until the driver pulled away and carried Wren into the night. She’d soon be safely at home. Away from stone-cold monsters like me.

Four Years Ago

Dear Callum,

Do you know what today is?

I’ll wait.

Did you remember? It’s been one year since I wrote my first email to you. I won’t say it’s our anniversary because that might freak you out, even though it kind of is. Or did our friendship begin the first time you wrote me back?

In the last year, we’ve exchanged 32 emails. 32! I never thought we’d get past 1. Did you think we’d get past 2?

I think we should try to double our emails this year. You’ve been writing me back faster, so I’m confident we’ll make it. Besides, it’s hard for me to go more than a week without hearing from you. I start to feel a little panicky. I guess it makes sense that in a year, you’ve become important to me. I hope that doesn’t freak you out either.

Here’s the sad thing, Callum: not much has changed for me in the last year. I got older, slightly wiser, I finished high school, and I’m in college, but that’s it. I’m still living with my shitty parents in an even shittier apartment—no, wait, reverse that. My parents are definitely shittier. Still a once-kissed virgin. I haven’t been anywhere. I still shrink.

What about you? What’s changed in the last year?

Will this be the year I get to hear your voice?

Your favorite pen pal,

Birdie

Little Bird,

Yeah, I was confident we’d get past 2 because I knew you’d write me back. I never suspected I would continue to reply to you, though. You’re something of a surprise. Probably the biggest in my life.

I’m writing back to you the same day you sent this. Couldn’t miss our anniversary, could I? I’ve never celebrated an anniversary. I’ll probably have a drink and watch Adam make very bad decisions. The drink makes it a special occasion.

Don’t worry about change, Little Bird. You’re smart. You’ll make it happen.

You’re only a once-kissed virgin because your shadow hasn’t come to claim you yet. Don’t rush things. That day will come.

In the last year, I’ve set foot in almost every state. I read 28 books. I’ve improved as a bass player. I still disassociate. I’m as stone cold as ever. I haven’t spoken to my parents in three years. I turned 22. I made a new friend, and she’s a little bird.

I don’t know if I want you to hear my voice. You like me this way. You probably won’t if we ever meet.

Happy anniversary.

Callum

Dear Callum,

Holy granola, are you kidding me?!?

If we ever met, I’d be so awkward, you’d immediately block my email address and never write to me again. I was thinking maybe a phone call, but that makes me want to die because—you’re going to laugh, so brace yourself—I’ve never spoken to a boy on the phone before. Maybe a voice memo? Or you could call at an appointed time and leave me a message.

Okay, you’re right, this is a terrible idea. We’ll forever be pen pals.

Except, one day, I might want to meet you. And I know I’d like you because I already know you’re not stone cold. So, even if you just stared at me, I’d know it wasn’t because you hated me.

Do you have any idea where your parents are? Are they still The Traveling Roses? I still can’t believe you were raised completely off the grid by hippie musicians. Who else can say that? I just have Donna and Gene, who should attend some parenting classes and AA meetings. Their dysfunction is so boring!

(BTW, I am not making light of your trauma, I swear. I am trying to make light of my own)

You know, Callum, I’m beginning to think this shadow person you keep mentioning doesn’t exist. I keep checking, and no one is following me.

Your shadow-less friend,

Birdie

Little Bird,

The shadow’s coming. You’re too special for someone not to see that. You really fucking are. Don’t forget that.

I don’t know if my family is still playing music and grifting all over the country. I haven’t run into them on my travels with TSC. But I can’t see any of them ever changing, so yeah, they probably are.

Make light all you want. I like it when you do, but I hate that you understand what it’s like to barely exist to the people who brought you into the world.

I could do a voice mail. Maybe. One day, Little Bird. One day, I’ll do it.

And then, maybe one day we’ll meet. I’d like to be capable of meeting you.

Give me some time.

Callum