Founded on Goodbye by Kat Singleton
“Are you sure you’re allowed to do this?” I ask Nash, my eyes flicking over to a scowling Matt.
He’s standing in front of the car, arms crossed over his chest, a disapproving stare directed at Nash’s back.
Both Nash and I stand just outside the rear of the car, the door of the SUV still hanging open, my purse on the seat I’ve just vacated. The discarded clown wig sits on the floorboards, the artificial strands of hair reaching in every direction.
Nash throws a dirty look over his shoulder, taking a step to the left to block my view of Matt. Dirt swirls in the air around us as a Jeep full of teenagers blows past us. “I’m allowed to do whatever the hell I want,” he says.
Matt huffs loudly, causing Sebastian to snicker. Nash shakes his head and reaches into the car, pulling out a black ballcap with a bright red stitched rose on the front.
“Do you have a thing for roses or something?” I ask, my finger tapping the rose tattoo taking up his hand. Both of his hands have the same tattoo spanning nearly all the skin there.
His lips pull up in a cocky smile as he as he places the hat atop my head, adjusting it till he sees fit. He pulls the brim down, obstructing my view of the world so I can only see him. Nash’s eyes briefly drop to my lips before he meets my eyes once again.
Leaning in close, so close that his temple rests against the brim of the hat he’s just put on me, he opens his mouth to speak. “Looks like it, Rose.”
The emphasis on his nickname for me has me involuntarily pulling in a deep breath. I feel the double entendre in his words all the way to my core. Even though all I’d meant was that it’s apparent he likes roses—between the roses on his hands and the roses all over his fan merchandise. I hadn’t meant…me.
“I’m starting to like ‘em more and more.” His teasing smile is confident.
We stand under the beating sun for one, two, three—I don’t know how many seconds—locked in a stare with each other.
This man.
I’m falling into the trap of his charisma, fast. I feel like one of those girls that scream his name each night on tour. I can’t look away from him. He’s pulling me in and I’m not quick enough to stop the rollercoaster of emotions soaring through me.
All I know is I’m standing in front of him, in the middle of a random festival parking lot, the sun scorching hot on my back, and all I can think about is how I want to know every single detail of Nash Pierce.
I want to know what you can’t discover from the tabloids.
I want to see that heart he guards so tightly.
I want to run away from the look he’s giving me right now. I want to run and find a time machine so I can tell Monica there’s no way I’d ever agree to any plan that includes breaking his beautiful heart.
His fingers move from where they’d been resting on the brim of the hat. He slides his hand down the side of my face, caressing my cheek softly. His eyes stay pinned on mine. I’m scared he can read every single one of my thoughts.
You’ll hate me one day, I chant in my head, hoping he can’t see my panic from the obtrusive thought.
His thumb brushes my cheek before he slides his hand around to the back of my neck. I’m too aware of Sebastian and Matt, standing only a few feet away, nothing but Nash’s back shielding us from their view.
Nash’s hand is warm on the back of my neck, and just before I give in to the feelings brewing inside me, I brace my hands against his stomach. My fingers twist around the fabric of his shirt. “Nash,” I say his name, a beg on my lips, breaking our eye contact. “We should get going.”
His head falls forward, our foreheads now resting against the other’s. He sighs, applying more pressure on my neck for a moment before stepping away.
My arms fall to my side. I find both Matt and Sebastian pretending to be in a deep conversation by the hood of the car. I try to eavesdrop when Nash’s voice breaks my attention.
“Here,” he says loudly, his hand holding out my purse.
“Thanks,” I say, taking it. I give him a timid smile, hoping he isn’t too disappointed that I’d just stopped whatever was about to happen between the two of us.
Nash reaches back into the SUV, pulling a large pair of sunglasses on his face. He’s now hidden under that beanie and a pair of wayfarer sunglasses. He looks like he could be stepping onto the set of a Ray Bans commercial. “Do you have a pair?” he asks, his pointer finger aimed toward his own.
I nod, unzipping my purse and pulling out mine. “Is this how we hide? No clown wigs?” I tease, hoping to ease some of this tension between us.
His lips twitch as he pulls his beanie down further. He looks sexy as hell. I’m not sure I’d recognize him if I didn’t know it was him under the beanie and sunglasses.
Nash grabs the top of the SUV door, slamming it loudly and stepping closer to me. His feet kick up dirt as he steps closer to me. “Ready?” he asks, holding his hand out, a silent invitation.
I take it, not wanting to ruin the vibe for the day. Even if I’m still cautious about what I could allow to happen between us, I still crave this quality time with him. I want to see him just being Nash, and today seems like the perfect opportunity to do so.
The two of us stop near Matt and Sebastian. Sebastian has a grin on his face, one I’m quickly learning almost never leaves his face. Matt on the other hand, looks like he desperately wishes he could force Nash back into the car.
“Nash,” Matt begins, his hands tucked into the pockets of his dark jeans.
“Don’t start with me, Matt. Please,” Nash asks of him. A moment of eye contact passes between them, some sort of silent understanding, and then Nash pulls me along with him.
“Monica is going to kill me,” Matt notes, following hot on our heels.
“She’ll kill us all,” Sebastian jokes.
Nash stops abruptly. My hand falls from his grip as he quickly closes the distance between him and the two men. “The two of you need to pull your panties out of your ass and let me live a little. Shit, I just want to go to a festival with a girl without a ton of people following me around. Is that so much to ask? Really?” His chest rises and falls in frustration as he stares down both Matt and Sebastian.
Sebastian is the first one to raise his white flag. He lifts his arms in surrender. “We’re just trying to do our job, boss.”
Nash barely seems to register what Sebastian has said, he’s too busy staring at Matt. The four of us stand silently in the middle of the desert, waiting for someone to make a move.
People mill around us from all directions, making their way exactly where we’re trying to.
“You aren’t a normal guy anymore, Nash,” Matt says softly. “If anyone catches wind that you’re here, there’ll be a crazy mob of fans within five minutes. It’s just me and Bash here,” he nods to Sebastian, adding, “and it’s up to us to keep the two of you safe, because you decided you didn’t want anyone else to know about this little excursion. I’m not going to apologize for wanting to keep you safe. You just better stay incognito.”
It looks like Matt wants to say something else, but after thinking on it, his jaw snaps shut. He turns around and starts to walk toward the large mass of people lining up at the front gates.
As the four of us head in that direction, I peek over at Nash. Most of his face is hidden behind the beanie and sunglasses, but the tight clench of his jaw is still visible. Between the tic of his jaw and the way he’s gripping my hand, I assume he’s still on edge about it all.
I use my hand that isn’t holding his to reach across and wrap around his bicep. I let my body drift even closer to his, leaning my head against his shoulder as our steps fall in line together.
By the time we make it through the gates, the tension with Matt seems forgotten. Both Matt and Sebastian have backed off a bit, giving us the illusion it’s just the two of us here at the festival.
“Want something to drink?” Nash asks as we walk past a vendor selling drinks out of a retro looking bus. The back half of it has a large window cut into it. There are tiki lights framing the window and inside works a girl with bright green hair. She bends over the counter, handing a guy two large beer cans.
“I’m good,” I tell Nash, looking up at him. “But if you want something…” I lift my hand and point toward the booth, silently letting him know he can get whatever he wants.
He swivels his head from me to the booth, then back at me. I would bet underneath the sunglasses his eyebrows are furrowed in concentration. “I actually don’t want anything,” he mumbles, more to himself than me.
I stop in front of the booth, having to speak loudly over the booming speakers, the voice of the artist on stage spilling loudly from them. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m fucking sure. Christ, what is wrong with people treating me like a child today? I already got patronized from Matt, I didn’t think I’d get it from you, too.” His T-shirt bunches around his biceps as he crosses his arms over his chest, my hand he was holding now laying limply at my side.
“Woah,” I begin, throwing my hands up defensively. “I didn’t mean anything wrong by that. I just figured you may actually want a drink and were being nice denying one because I didn’t want one.” I awkwardly look down at my shoes, noticing the soles of them turning from white to brown from the dust on the ground.
“What, because I can’t go an afternoon without a drink?” Nash pulls the sunglasses off his face, pinching his nose and rubbing his cheeks. He must register it was the wrong move at the same time I do, because a few seconds later he quickly whips the sunglasses back to cover his face, muttering “shit” in the process. The two of us scan the people around us, wondering if anyone recognized him in that short time.
I make eye contact with the girl with the green hair working the liquor booth. She stares intently at the both of us for a few moments too long, making me second-guess if Nash went unrecognized with that mishap. The customer at her booth must say something to get her attention, because she blinks a few times and looks away from us, toward them.
I look around us one more time before looking back at him. I find him already facing me, waiting for an answer. Sighing, I run my hands over the pleats of my skirt. “I didn’t mean it that way, it’s just—”
“It’s just you think I’m an alcoholic?” A girl with a cup that’s half her size bumps into Nash. She barely glances his way as she haphazardly throws an apology over her shoulder and continues on.
My hands find my hips. “Stop putting words in my mouth. It isn’t a secret you like to drink. We’ve talked about it. I was just trying to be nice. Don’t be a dick.”
His lips pull into an apologetic smile. “You’re right, I was a dick. I’m just on edge, I guess.”
I close the distance, bumping his shoulder with mine, trying to resume normalcy. “Let’s go watch someone play.”
He nods, taking my hand once again and pulling me toward the sound of music and screaming fans. Keeping up with his long stride, I take one last glance over my shoulder. There’s a pit in my stomach when I see the woman working the alcohol booth with her eyes pinned on us, and worse, her phone in our direction.
I try to shake the worry off, hoping she didn’t recognize Nash like I think she may have. I want to enjoy the day with him, and I don’t want to worry him about that if I could be wrong. Pushing the anxiety to the back of my head, I become fully immersed in the day with Nash.
* * *
Before I know it, the sun has fully set, and the day has flown by.
Tugging on Nash’s hand, I guide us through a throng of spectators. My hand is clammy in his, the other wrapped tight around the base of cotton candy on a stick. Flashing lights illuminate the people around us sporadically. Finally finding an open area on the far-left side of the stage, I stop, turning to face Nash.
The person on stage talks to the crowd while the stage crew moves things around behind him. The large screen behind the band has a large, artistic sugar skull on the banner. By the song they start to play, it seems like some kind of indie band. Nash’s finger absentmindedly taps to the beat against the top of my hand.
Watching the mirage of colors from the stage lights illuminate his face, I realize I want to relive this day over and over. It’s been everything I could have wanted in a date and more. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks.
Today was a date.A date I enjoyed more than any other date I’ve previously been on. And the small feelings I was harboring for Nash this morning have multiplied tenfold.
Every time his blue-green gaze falls on me, I feel it all the way down my body. I’ve learned so many insignificant things about him that now they’ve piled up and transformed into something very significant. Something that feels a whole hell of a lot like developing feelings—real, deep feelings that lead to falling.
I try to shake the gnawing feeling of that—and what it could mean for me, him, and the impossibility of an us.
Nash is the perfect distraction from my intrusive thoughts. I’m snacking on the cotton candy when his hands lock around my waist. Pulling me in close, he fuses our bodies together.
“How is it?” he asks, eyeing the pink and blue swirls of sugar in my hand.
“Delicious,” I say, pulling at a chunk of the cotton candy. Raising my hand, I hold the treat in front of his lips, a silent offering.
He responds instantly, his lips parting. He maintains direct eye contact as he leans forward.
I place the cotton candy on his waiting tongue, tingles running down my spine when the wetness of his mouth rubs against my knuckles. The look on his face as he swallows makes it seem like maybe it wasn’t an accident at all.
My sticky fingers rub together at my side as Nash reaches in and grabs his own piece of the cotton candy. I stay zoned in on his every move as he guides the pastel strings my way. My mouth opens with zero hesitation, letting him place it directly on my tongue. I close my mouth, letting it disintegrate on my tongue as Nash watches in fascination.
“Nora?” he says, his voice raised to cover the crowd around us that’s singing along to the music.
“Yes?”
“Ask me to tell you something random.” His eyes dart down to my lips before making eye contact once again.
I can’t help but pause, wondering where this is leading. Unable to resist, I do just that, waiting on pins and needles for his response.
He wastes no time answering me. One second, I’m still living in my own fantasyland where Nash and I are just friends and my own personal feelings haven’t gotten involved. In this moment, I’m still able to pretend I’m not falling for Nash, ignoring the fact that one day I’ll have to break both our hearts by breaking his.
I’m no longer toeing the line between my heart and my head. My heart has taken the lead and said, to hell with the wreckage guaranteed tohappen.
Because in the next moment, the lips that serenade countless fans every night are uttering the words that ignite fireworks in my stomach.
“I’m going to kiss the hell out of you, Rose,” he tells me.
And I let him.
His lips, that sing the sweetest melodies, are on mine. And as our lips finally collide, the last thought in my mind before I lose myself in him is wondering how I’ve waited so long to feel his lips on mine.