Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 81423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81423 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 407(@200wpm)___ 326(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
This was the first time he’d flown somewhere to see me. It was easier to get to Charlottesville to see him before the tour. We’d meet up at our hotel—I used the name Murphy for that now. My real name drew too much attention. It was not only a pseudonym, but made me feel like Law was mine every time I gave it. Murphy’s Law. Somehow, it had become a connection between us, this small thing I could hold on to, that I could say out loud to other people, and it made me feel like we were claiming each other.
But the feeling of that moment never lasted. Eventually, I’d have to leave. I always had to leave.
It had been too long this time. He was this constant ache in my chest, but then I had music. I was making it. How could I begrudge having my dreams come true? And I didn’t. Not really. I’d bought a house for my family. I was planning on putting my siblings through college—Leslie first, she’d just turned eighteen, and then my brother, Martin.
I was writing and playing, which was all I ever wanted, but fuck did I feel alone too. So goddamned alone all the time.
When the driver pulled up in front of the hotel, I lowered my cap on my head and got out. Law had texted me the room number earlier, so I didn’t have to stop by the front desk. I went straight for the elevator and took it up to the fifteenth floor.
When I got to the room, I knocked softly, and then Law was there, pulling it open, and suddenly, I could breathe. That probably sounded ridiculous. I was a hopeless romantic, a sap, too emotional, but that was how I felt.
The second the door closed behind me, he pushed the hat off my head and then his lips were on mine. It was a bruising kiss, want tangled with frustration. But he smelled familiar, apples and words, and tasted familiar, and like every time I was with him, I knew this was where I was supposed to be.
Law pulled away enough to rip my shirt over my head. “Christ, you still dress like you have no money,” he teased, and I chuckled, and then we were kissing again. I couldn’t help it. That was me. I wasn’t used to having money, and even if I were, those things about me would never change. I felt comfortable in old jeans and T-shirts I’d had for years.
“Fuck me,” I begged, wanting him, needing him. Then we were stumbling to the bed and stripping each other from our clothes. We tumbled to the mattress, and Law grabbed the lube. There were fingers and stretching and then he was there, buried deep, and my cock ached, fuck yes, this was what I needed.
We both came a few minutes later, then simply lay there, sweaty, come dripping from my ass. We’d lost the condoms a long time ago. Neither of us was with anyone else.
There was a heaviness in the room that plagued us often now. It was like a weight on my chest, trying to drown my happiness.
“It’s getting harder and harder,” Law said after a few minutes.
“I know…fuck, I’m sorry.” I rubbed a hand over my face. I was going to lose him. I knew that. How could I not? But part of me wanted to curl up beside him and beg him to always be mine.
“Then fuck it. Let’s come out. I don’t give a shit who knows about us.”
I wished it were that easy. There was all this shit—my responsibilities to my family, my mom, whose health could worsen quickly, my career, my music. What if I lost it all? It had happened before, artists who had come out in their rise to the top had their careers cut short and their lives turned into tabloid fodder. Even thinking about it made me break into a sweat.
“You know I can’t. Steve already told me I couldn’t.”
“Steve is your manager, but he still works for you.”
I shook my head, even knowing he was right. This wasn’t the first time we’d had this discussion.
“You saw what went down when there was a rumor about me,” I reminded him.
There was this guy I’d known from church when I was younger—Shawn. We’d been at their house for bible study and then a barbecue. I’d wandered away, because that was what I did. Shawn was into weight lifting, and I’d found one of his magazines. I didn’t know what made me pick it up and look at it. My fingers had danced over the images, and he’d come in and caught me. I’d been practically petting the damn thing, and he’d teased me. I’d played it off, but even back then I’d known he hadn’t believed me. Still, he’d pretended he had.