Lilac: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance

He kissed me.

Houston Morrow was kissing me.

Moments are meant to be a seamless transition from one to the next. The cause and the effect. Designed to make sense.

So…how did we go from his arrogant reminder that I was beneath him to…kissing?

And why didn’t I pull away?

A good time would have been when I felt his hands slip around my hips until they reached my ass. The shorts I wore to bed didn’t leave much for his imagination. I’d put all my cards on the table, and he was calling my bluff.

Groaning his pleasure at the way I filled his hands, he lifted me. My legs ended up wrapped around his trim waist. His lips never left mine.

I was the air he needed to breathe, and he was mine.

Houston moved us to the small table where Rich and I had plotted adventures together just minutes ago. Still, I didn’t fight him when he set me down on top of it. I spread my legs to make room for him, and he rewarded me by pressing his cock against the thin layer keeping him from being inside of me.

All he’d done was kiss me.

His tongue slipped between my lips, and I moaned at the taste of him mixing with the cherries that signaled my arousal. It only intensified when his hand slowly wandered underneath my shirt. It was rough and warm against my soft skin.

I wanted him to ruin me.

No question I’d let him tear me apart and piece me back together however he wanted me. I wanted to be the precious thing he took for himself and never let go. I was willing to give him anything if he never stopped touching me in return.

He groaned right then as if he could read my thoughts and shoved his hand underneath my bra. The sensation of his warm palm engulfing my breast and his thumb teasing my nipple made an unintelligible sound slip from my lips. It didn’t matter how long it had been. I’d never been touched like this.

“You want to come for me?”

“Yes.”

I needed that so much. I’d known no greater thrill than coming apart in front of an avid audience—somehow to watch and appreciate my slow descent from sanity.

It wasn’t until Nate Farrow—not my first, second, or last, but the boy who let the guilt eat him alive—that I learned the wildness in my heart, this mania I was a slave to, was truly and irrevocably a sickness.

Dirty whore.

I still believed him as if it had been yesterday.

The pungent scent of olives was heavy in the air as shame gripped me by the throat. Even though I knew it wasn’t real, I scrambled away just as Houston was about to kiss me. I didn’t stop backing away until I was pressed against the black shade covering the window.

“What just happened?” The confused dip of his brows would have been adorable if I weren’t shaking like a leaf in a tornado. “Get your ass back over here, Fawn.”

I shook my head, feeling my throat clog when I tried to speak. “You shouldn’t have kissed me.”

“You shouldn’t have asked me to.”

I hadn’t, but we both know I wanted him to. Denying it when it had been obvious would only make me feel pathetic on top of everything else.

“You don’t understand, Houston. When Calvin died, you didn’t get your new start. You just traded one addict for another.”

The disgust on his face at my confession was ten times more mortifying than years-old shame.

“You’re on drugs?” he spat.

I vehemently shook my head. “Not that kind of addiction.”

In my opinion, I had it worse. At least with drugs, I could have been cured. Instead, all I had to cope was to bury a relentless demon.

“Goddamn it,” Houston swore through gritted teeth, “tell me and stop beating around the bush!”

“Sex,” I told him with a gasp. I couldn’t quite catch my breath after that. “I’m addicted to sex, Houston.”

I didn’t get a response because a noise had stolen Houston’s attention. I followed his glower to the door behind him, where Loren and Rich stood looking like a train was barreling toward them.

When I imagined all the ways they might discover my secret, this had been so far from it.

I never made it to the museum.

Houston had stormed from the bus, and the person I’d made plans with had trouble making eye contact with me ever since.

My only ally was Loren.

It was business as usual as far as he was concerned. I didn’t allow that small favor to give me hope. There was a chance that he was still drunk or too hungover to process how hard I’d fucked them.

The hours until the show seemed to tick by agonizingly slow. Houston never reappeared during that time, and I didn’t see him until the very last moment.

I could feel his gaze as I walked onto the stage, looking amazing but feeling like shit.

Tonight, I wore a black floor-length sheath with slits so high the stylist paired my dress with a bodysuit so that I didn’t accidentally flash my vagina. God, who I wasn’t sure I believed in, must have decided I’d had enough for today.

That was until the show started.

Yellow and red formed shapes around me as we played, but I didn’t listen to the notes through my eyes. Not this time. I was caught up in the words. I dissected each one, and not for the first time, I wondered about the girl in the song. Tonight, it felt like that girl was me even though I knew it was impossible.

She’s got claws that scratch me deep

She digs for feelings I never invited

Caught within her cold embrace

I’m falling, stalling, all over again

Just head over heels for her crocodile tears

Why don’t you just shut up

Why can’t you just get up

Why won’t you stop pulling me down (Die)

Bleeding myself dry to give you everything

Then you tell me it’s not enough, you want it all

How could I have loved such a heartless bitch

I’m not who I am anymore

Why don’t you just shut up

Why can’t you just get up

Why won’t you stop pulling me down (Die)

Hypnotized by your graceless lies

A fool for what’s in cold, dead eyes

You will never be more than a bad memory

So run, run, just keep running away from me

Of course, Houston sang as if it was his pain, but all that proved was how talented he was. It was hard enough to imagine that Houston had a heart. I couldn’t fathom him letting it be broken.

I looked to Bound’s bassist—the link between the rhythm and the melody, and the most vulnerable of the trio. I’m sure anyone would have assumed that role belonged to Rich, but no. Only someone having trouble burying their pain would feel the need to deceive. Loren’s behavior was as much for him as it was for everyone else. He was precisely the type to get his heart broken and then write a diss track.

I admired his perfect smile and the sweat dripping down his exposed abs and wondered who could willingly give him up or hurt him. Tonight, he hadn’t bothered with a shirt. All he’d worn were black jeans and matching suspenders hanging down by his hips, boots, and that medallion I hadn’t gotten around to asking him about.

His brows that had been dipped with concentration cleared as he turned his head the slightest bit and caught me drooling. I turned away before he could react. It was just in time to switch from rhythm to lead and deliver a solo that brought the house down.

Once the show ended, we were rushed from the stadium. The three of them piled into a separate Suburban, though, and I frowned at that before shrugging it off. It wasn’t exactly news that I was the odd man out, but they didn’t have to be so blatant about it.

I didn’t let it ruin the rush I felt from another successful show, and by the time the short drive was over, I’d successfully cast them from my mind. Texting back and forth with Griff and Maeko helped. They were sending me clips and shots of the show that had already surfaced online as if I hadn’t been there. Sweat beaded my brow, and my heart began pounding at the last photo they’d sent.

Someone, somehow, had captured a picture of Loren and me staring at one another.

I wasn’t aware before now how much could be said in one look. And it wasn’t one of those grainy, faraway shots either.

Nope.

It was a close-up with crystal fucking clarity.

You’d think I’d been caught with my hand down his pants with how quickly I clicked out of the photo. I shoved my phone in my bag just as I reached Bound’s tour bus, only to stop dead in my tracks.

Everything I owned was packed and waiting for me on the curb.

Instead of rushing for them, I stared blankly at my bags. My mind and body were unable to react. I didn’t know where to begin. Houston had been furious, but I didn’t think he’d be this upset. Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to think rationally rather than emotionally.

One, they couldn’t finish the tour without me.

Two, it was impossible that they’d found a replacement in a matter of hours when the reason I was standing here was that they were too damn picky.

I wouldn’t figure out what bug was up their ass this time by guessing, so I turned away from the bus to go find them when one of the roadies found me instead.

“Oh, shit. H-hey, Braxton,” he said, looking alarmed. “I’m really sorry about this. I was supposed to have this done before you got back, but—”

“It’s fine,” I reassured before he could finish. “What’s going on? Where are you taking my stuff?”

The roadie’s blue eyes widened even further at my question. I think his name was either Alan or Alex. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been around long enough to be sure. He was cute even with his greasy blond hair that clearly hadn’t been washed in a while.

“You didn’t know? I was told to move your things to the second bus.” Suddenly realizing this was our first conversation, he stuck out his hand. “I’m Alex.”

“Braxton,” I offered while shaking his hand.

“Yeah, I know,” he teased with the beginnings of a blush blooming on his cheeks. “Everyone knows who you are.”

“Oh, yeah?” I tried my best to sound excited. Any other time I would have been.

“Yeah, you’re pretty awesome.”

I could tell he wanted to say more but was trying to play it cool. Perhaps he sensed that I wasn’t in the mood to be praised after being discarded like yesterday’s trash. Either way, I was grateful. My guard only worked when my back was against the wall. Alex, on the other hand, was nice. I was afraid I’d end up crying on his shoulder if he said too much. I bet he wouldn’t find me so awesome then.

“Thanks,” I said, giving him a smile that felt real. “Do you know why I’m being moved? Sorry, no one told me.”

“Houston thought you’d be more comfortable on another bus.” Thankfully, Alex didn’t pry. Spilling my guts is what got me in this position, so I wasn’t about to do it again. “Should I wait until he’s back or…?” Alex let the question hang in the air.

“No. It’s fine. I guess he just forgot to tell me,” I lied. That pedantic, priggish pile of pig shit hadn’t forgotten a damn thing, and neither would I. For now, I breathed in and out through my nose, forcing my anger to wait its turn.

Nodding, Alex lifted my bags from the ground. When I tried to help, he waved me off. “This way.”

I followed him to the bus parked behind Bound’s bus. When I boarded, I expected to see it occupied and maybe a little crowded. Instead, it was a ghost town.

“Where is everyone?” I questioned while looking around and waiting for someone to appear.

“They were all split up and moved around. This baby’s all yours.”

This time around, it was hard not to react.

Was separating themselves from me really that dire? They’d actually vacated an entire bus so that they wouldn’t have to share a space with me anymore.

I had privacy now, but I wasn’t grateful for it. I was angry enough to scream and afraid of how alone I’d be by the end of the tour. There would be nothing to distract me from my thoughts and the fear of what was happening hundreds and soon to be thousands of miles away.

No company is better than bad company.

Still, I felt terrible for the crew, who were probably feeling cramped before Bound decided to kick me off their island. There was a vast difference between Bound’s bus and this one. The most noticeable was the twelve narrow bunks compared to the band’s spacious four. This bus also didn’t have the slide-out feature that doubled the interior’s size when the bus wasn’t in motion. Everything here was standard with a straight out of the factory design, not that I cared. I’d be more than comfortable here with no one to share the space. My problem was the real reason I’d been moved, and it wasn’t for my comfort.

I’d been exiled.

I could feel the invisible branding of a familiar scarlet letter on my chest even now.

“Is this okay?” Alex asked after I’d been silent for too long. “If not, I can let Houston or Xavier know.” His expression didn’t match his offer, though. Alex looked like he’d rather swallow rusty nails than play the messenger. The crew was happy and well-treated by the guys, but it didn’t change the fact that they were intimidating. It was a natural thing for them.

“This is fine. I’m just worried everyone will think I’m a diva or something.” Thanks for that, Houston. “If they want to come back, I really don’t mind sharing.”

“They don’t think that. Houston made it clear he wanted you to have the privacy.”

I bet he did. He managed to cast me aside while looking like the gallant hero. I hated him even more than before.

“I see.”

Smiling, Alex made for the exit. “If you need anything, I’ll be around!” he shouted before disappearing into the dark. The drivers were set up in hotels for the night, so I was utterly alone until morning.

Sinking onto the worn couch, I tried not to replay the events from this morning, but it was impossible to deny a moment to relive Houston’s kiss. If I chose to see it, the silver lining was that I no longer had any secrets.

The problem was that they still had all of theirs.