Fragile by A.K. Evans

Eleven

Cash

I had been so close.

So close to getting in there, even if it was just inside the door.

To say I was frustrated at this point would have been an understatement because I thought I’d finally made some real progress with Demi.

That progress started with somehow getting her to agree to go out with me for breakfast before I left to continue on the tour with My Violent Heart. The progress continued when we, for the first time, had a civil conversation while getting to know one another. There was no sarcasm behind any of the words we spoke to one another. We simply talked.

And it was nice.

Damn, it was so nice to have that with her.

The progress had reached a point I never expected it would when Demi decided to give me her number.

And then it all came to a grinding halt.

Because I had fans.

I never had to remind myself to feel gratitude and appreciation for my fans. The band was blessed with the best fans in the music industry, and I knew they were the reason I lived the life I did doing the thing I loved most in the world.

But ever since I watched Demi run out of the café that morning and tell me that she wasn’t the girl I was looking for, I had struggled with my thankfulness for the fans.

She might have said differently, but there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that the reason Demi left was because of those two girls walking up and interrupting our date.

The last thing I wanted was to feel animosity toward the fans, but it was hard not to feel just a little bit of it.

Demi left because of what happened that morning. And I couldn’t begin to understand it, especially considering she seemed more than willing to take the photos for the fans.

Actually, that’s not true.

I had a feeling that for her to see it play out in front of her affected her differently than when she was just making assumptions about how my life was. Then again, there had been that moment in the hotel weeks ago when a couple of fans walked right up to me and requested an autograph.

Obviously, Demi and I hadn’t been out together at that time, so beyond that, I couldn’t see how this situation was any different.

I felt miserable the last few days, hating that we didn’t get the opportunity to say goodbye to one another and that things didn’t end on a good note.

I hated not having that connection with her.

But last night, in the middle of our show, I remembered I had her email. So the minute I was off stage and able to send one, I shot Demi that email. Initially, I had grappled with what to say to her considering the way things were left that morning. I ultimately decided it was best to give her a bit of myself that she was used to while also giving her a dose of something more.

It felt like a lifetime had passed waiting for a response. Now that one had just come in, I was struggling to open it.

I couldn’t imagine what her response was going to be.

I took in a few deep breaths and finally opened Demi’s email.

Give it a few cities. You’ll forget all about me. -Demi

I wished.

I wished it was that easy.

This would have been much nicer if I could have done what Killian and Roscoe had urged me to do from the beginning when they gave me their advice suggesting I just move on.

But I couldn’t.

Wanting to look on the bright side, I felt happy about the fact that Demi had at least responded, even if I didn’t like what it said.

Beyond that, she hadn’t told me to eat shit, so there was an upside.

The lines of communication were still open, and that meant I wasn’t going to give up on her.

I tapped out a response and sent it.

That’s where you’re wrong. You’re unforgettable, firecracker. And I’ll prove it to you.

-Cash

PS Do you have any tattoos?

I threw in the tattoo question because I figured it wasn’t invasive. Generally, people who had tattoos loved to talk about them, and those who didn’t either talked about the ones they wanted to get or unequivocally answered no.

The answer to her question didn’t necessarily matter to me. I mean, obviously, I was curious. But the truth was that I just wanted to get her to open up to me again. And if I kept the entire email string on the fact that I missed her, it was almost certain that we’d get nowhere.

That wasn’t an option for me.

I don’t know why I assumed that Demi would respond to me immediately. Maybe I was secretly hoping that she was sitting around waiting to hear from me.

It had been nearly two full days before Demi responded to me. I’d gone almost a week without talking to her.

I’d never really had a problem with confidence before, but now, that self-assurance was starting to fade.

Damn, this was hard.

But there was one glimmer of hope.

Because even though her response hadn’t come back as quickly as I would have liked, I got something else. A bit of playfulness. And that was enough to put a smile on my face and remind me of one of the reasons this woman had captured my interest.

Still remember me?

-Demi

PS One tattoo.

After reading her response, I came to the conclusion that she was doing this on purpose. Either she wanted to give me more time to miss her, or she genuinely believed she was forgettable.

I hoped it was the former because the latter was just plain sad.

And since I wanted her to know that I hadn’t been joking around, I immediately send her a response.

I thought you forgot about me.

-Cash

PS What and where is it?

After sending it off, I sat back and thought about how I was going to get through the next two days without hearing from her again. I had a show tonight. We were currently in New Mexico. Tomorrow morning, we’d head off to Arizona. We had two shows to play in Phoenix before we took off to Nevada.

Mostly, I was enjoying the tour, but the second half of it was proving to be a lot different from the first half for me. I still enjoyed time with my bandmates when we had an extra day between shows, but I really didn’t find myself interested in going out to party.

And I hadn’t had sex in weeks.

If that wasn’t depressing, I didn’t know what would be.

What I’d learned was that my dick was only functional around Demi or at thoughts of her. The mere thought of putting my cock in someone else did nothing for me. It wasn’t that I hadn’t seen pretty women since we left New Hampshire. I had. It was just that none of them were her, so I never even attempted to go there.

Maybe that was another reason I was hoping I could get Demi to open up to me once more. I couldn’t go the rest of my life never having sex again. Surely, I wouldn’t survive.

Of course, that was merely me joking. The truth was, I didn’t just want her for sex. There was so much more I liked about her.

With all of my pent-up sexual energy, I decided I needed to handle business myself. It was still early, and I was in my bed.

Just as I closed my eyes, envisioned Demi’s beautiful mouth, and reached down to stroke myself, my phone chimed, indicating I’d received an email.

My hand stopped where it was as I reached for the phone with the opposite one.

Holy fuck.

She responded in a matter of minutes.

Nope. And it’s a single word tattooed on the inside of my right wrist. That’s all I’m giving you.

-Demi

She didn’t forget about me. That was promising.

I didn’t hesitate to hit the reply button.

I guess I’ll have to wait to see it in person. How is the new job coming along? Have you booked a lot of bands?

-Cash

This wasn’t exactly how I had hoped things would go, but if this was the only way I could have her, I’d take it.

As I stayed in bed, with my phone in one hand, I returned the other to my cock. I started envisioning Demi’s body in that dress she wore weeks ago when I first showed up at Granite. I was instantly hard at the vision in my mind. I hadn’t stroked more than twice before my phone rang in my hand.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Was she calling me?

I tried to take a calming breath before I answered, “Hello?”

“Cash?”

It was her.

“Demi,” I stated, not needing to ask if it was her.

“Yeah, I’m taking my lunch break right now and thought it’d be easier to talk this way instead of through email.”

I wanted to laugh. That was precisely what I had wanted to do this whole time.

God, the sound of her voice again just felt so good.

Apparently, I was too lost in that and my shock over the fact that she’d called me that I’d taken too long to respond.

“If this is a bad time, I can let you go,” she said.

“No. No, not at all. I’m just… I didn’t expect you to call,” I returned.

“Well, don’t get your hopes up. I called you from the bar, so you still don’t have my phone number,” she teased.

She was definitely teasing because the sound of her voice was light and carefree.

Wow. I hadn’t realized how much I missed that.

“I’ll take whatever you’ll give me, Demi,” I told her. “If all you want is emails and calls from the bar phone, I’ll be happy with that. So, how is it going there?”

There was a brief pause before she answered, “Good. I’m really getting into the swing of things, and we’ve had a ton of interest since My Violent Heart played here. The interest has come not only from bands wanting to play but also a lot of patrons who want to know if and when you guys are coming back to play again.”

“I wish we could come back sooner,” I told her.

And I did. It was just that my reason for going back had nothing to do with music and everything to do with seeing her.

“I’m sure the time will fly by for you,” she declared. “How’s the tour going?”

“It’s good. Having that little break was nice for us, and everyone is stoked to be back doing what we love. Plus, the crowds have been unbelievable, so that’s been a big bonus.”

“I can’t even imagine what it must be like to see you all perform live in a big venue,” Demi shared.

I immediately took advantage of that and insisted, “I can get you tickets to a show. You tell me what venue you want to see us at, and I’ll make it happen. Hell, I’d fly you there.”

Demi huffed. “You’re crazy.”

“Crazy about you.”

“Cash…” She trailed off.

Worried that I might have crossed a line, I backtracked. “I’m just being honest, but I’ll stop if it’s going to make you hang the phone up on me or something,” I said.

“I’m not going to hang up,” she started. “But do I get to ask a question?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that you asked me about tattoos,” she began again. “I feel as though it’s only fair for me to have a chance to ask you something personal.”

I smiled.

She couldn’t see me. Nobody could.

But I was smiling from ear to ear. The fact that Demi wanted to ask me a personal question made my day. Heck, it had made my week. I’d be willing to go so far as to say that this was going to be the best day I’d had since I left New Hampshire.

“Ask away, firecracker. I’m an open book,” I told her.

“Really? Because I feel like you don’t give a lot of information in your interviews,” she stated.

“So, what you’re saying is that you’ve been reading up on me?” I countered.

“What? No. I mean, well, I might have looked at one or two of them,” she admitted.

Yeah.

I knew I hadn’t been wrong. Demi was just as attracted to me as I was to her. The only difference was that I had no problem sharing how I felt, and she was wound up tight. In time, I’d definitely find a way to get to the bottom of that. For now, I’d enjoy this.

“Okay, so what’s the question?” I asked, deciding to let her off the hook.

“Alright. Well, what would you say is your worst trait?” she asked.

“Damn. Do you always like to focus on the negative?” I retorted through my laughter.

There was a brief pause before she answered, “I feel as though it’s always best to know the worst up front.”

I had to wonder what she needed to know the worst for. Did she have plans on finding out the good and realizing she wanted it?

Fuck, I hoped so.

“Hmmm. My worst trait,” I repeated. “I don’t know. I guess maybe that I’m impatient.”

“So, it’s true then?” she questioned me.

“What?”

“You want what you want when you want it,” she clarified. “It’s good to know I wasn’t wrong about that assumption.”

It was no secret that Demi had made assumptions about the kind of guy I was. I didn’t know what they all were, and I certainly hadn’t expected that she’d thought this about me. All I could do now is hope that any of the worst conclusions she’d drawn about me based on whatever she read online or saw in interviews could be proven wrong with time.

“Dare I ask what else you think of me?” I wondered aloud.

“You can, but I don’t think I’m going to share just yet,” she said. “I’d rather wait and see.”

I’d take that, too.

Because if she was willing to wait and see, that meant she planned to communicate regularly with me.

Or, at least, more than we had since I left New Hampshire.

On that thought, I smiled and settled in for more conversation. “Alright. So, what bands have contacted you? Are there any I know?”

“I don’t know. Do you keep abreast of the little guy in the industry? Because I can tell you now that there was nobody as big as My Violent Heart,” she replied.

And just like that, Demi and I fell into a comfortable conversation.

It felt good to have that back, even if I could only see her face in my mind.

Demi

I couldn’t help myself.

I missed Cash.

There was definitely something wrong with me. After witnessing what I did at the Finch Café that morning, seeing his fans come up and talk about being with him the night before, I never expected I’d feel my heart thaw toward him.

But all it took was a handful of emails for me to reconsider.

The truth was, Cash and I weren’t together. Whether he was interested in making that happen or not didn’t matter because I hadn’t agreed.

So, I really had no place to get upset about anything that he did.

Beyond that, it wasn’t as though I’d stuck around long enough to ask about the night he had before we went out to breakfast. Truthfully, I didn’t think I could handle it.

Because even though I’d never admit the truth to him, I liked him. Cash made me feel alive. Yes, he was handsome and sexy and had a great voice, but there was something else there. Something that ran much deeper for me. I just didn’t know exactly what it was.

And since I felt that pull to him, missed him, and adored the fact that he was reaching out to me the way that he was, I caved.

I didn’t think it was the smartest idea. I wasn’t sure I’d survive whatever came of this. But I figured it was like Sam said. This would be the safest way for me to get to know Cash better. I wouldn’t be distracted by the sight and scent of him.

The best part of all was that if Cash was genuinely serious about his interest in me, he’d have to work hard to prove it.

Part of me had wondered if I was caving too quickly. Should I have continued to let things play out via email?

Maybe.

But hearing his voice again for the first time since that morning at breakfast was like music to my ears.

I hated that that’s how it was for me, but I couldn’t change it.

So, I did what I always did. I gave myself what I wanted and needed, and I’d deal with whatever the fallout was later.

For now, Cash had made it so that I didn’t regret anything just yet. Only time would tell if that was going to change.