Behind the Lyrics by Melissa Riddell
Chapter 26
Viktor Farrow
For the next week, I focused on rehearsing and recording with the other members. I even managed to write three more songs, and after several rearrangements, the producer agreed they should go on the extended cut of the album.
At the back of my mind, though, Angela was never far away. For the first two nights, I refrained from texting her. But on the third evening, I couldn’t take it any longer. If my plan to seduce her was going to work, I needed to keep in touch. I’d give her time and space, but fuck me if she thought I’d just stop talking.
She was becoming an addiction I couldn’t slay, and it scared me—but also thrilled me, too, because she was one I could endure without hating myself.
Me: Hello, Angel.
Angela: Hey, you. What’s up?
Me: Hmm. I don’t think you want me to answer that…
Angela: Lol. No, probably not. What are you doing?
I’m fucking jonesing, that’s what I’m doing. I craved that sweet mouth of hers, those delicate fingertips brushing over my chest, and that fucking adorable laugh that made me feel like the luckiest man in the goddamn world.
Me: Lying in bed watching the telly. It was a long day of recording, but at this rate, we should have it wrapped soon, right on time to leave for the first leg of the tour. What about you, Love?
Angela: Just got home and gave Marky his favorite canned food.
Me: Even though I’m still pissed (ha, I’m clever, aren’t I?) at that little bastard, I’m rather envious he gets so much of your affection.
Angela: Lol. Well, I’m basically just his human slave, so I’m not sure there’s much of a trade-off for me.
An insane urge drove within me to rush out the front door, drive to her place, and pound on the door until she let me in so I could wrap her in my arms. How the hell could I be missing her this much? We’d only known each other for a handful of days, yet it didn’t feel that way.
Me: I miss you.
She didn’t respond, and I cursed myself. “You stupid fuck, Viktor. She asked for space, and what do you do the first time she replies? You become a fucking wanker.” Turmoil split my mind in two, and for the first time in a year, an intense urge to find a high shook through my body.
No. Never.
Sweat popped on my brow, cooling my blood a bit, and I sat up and finished off a bottle of water. Finally, my phone dinged with an incoming message.
Angela: Let’s just take this one day at a time, okay? I hope you understand.
Yeah, I fucking understood, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. OAS, remember?
I paced the room and stared out the window, the phone clenched in the palm of my hand. Why was I so invested in this woman? What kind of power did she wield that I couldn’t resist? Frustrated, I ran a hand through my hair and yanked a tangle.
Maybe a change of scenery and going home would be a good thing for both of us. Distance might be exactly what I needed to bleed my veins dry of Angela Morales.
Me: I understand all too well. Take care, Angel.
Switching the phone to Do Not Disturb, I padded to the bathroom for a shower before turning in. A full night of sleep would help with the poisonous cravings—and Angela—though I wondered if I should lump her into the same category.