ALL OF ME: About This Book
Famous rock stars don't fall for girls like me. With a voice to die for, the perfect bad-boy swagger, and a dirty mouth—I never should've fallen for Kai Jenner. But I did… right before I left him.
She left. Screaming fans and willing groupies can't get enough of me, and the one woman I want to stick around past the concert after-party f*cking leaves. I never should've said those three words to her. But I did… and I'm going to f*cking say them again—when I find her.
ALL OF ME is a standalone novella in the Rock Me series and is available here.
The crowd’s getting impatient. There are murmurs and rumblings demanding the headline act get their asses on stage. With every mumble, the tension in my stomach intensifies, twisting me full of knots.
Why did I let Steph talk me into this?
Unlike the hard-core fans who’ve been counting down the hours until Heathen’s live show, the tension I’m feeling isn’t from excitement.
I’m going to be sick.
I step back. The person behind me tries to push forward, desperate for my spot. Can’t say I blame them. I’m directly in front of the stage.
“Here, let me help.” My friend grabs my arm and shoves me back in place. “Asshole,” she mutters at the opportunist.
“Thanks.” I try to appear genuine, but I’m pretty sure my expression comes off as manic.
Blessedly, Steph’s too distracted by what’s happening on stage to notice. “You’re welcome.”
I don’t want to hurt her feelings by saying I’d rather be anywhere else, but it’s getting harder and harder to remain quiet. What she doesn’t understand is in a matter of minutes, he is going to be in front of me. Kai Jenner is going to walk on stage, pick up his guitar, and sing.
I need to get out of here.
But before I can move, Steph throws an arm over my shoulder. She flashes her trademark megawatt grin. Her dimples show and everything. “Are you enjoying your birthday present?”
I swallow and nod. “Uh-huh. Sure am. It’s great.”
Jumping up and down like a cheerleader on crack, she shrieks. “I knew you would! As soon as I heard that Heathen was playing in Seattle, I had to get you a ticket. You might like hiding behind your librarian outfits, but I know better.” Leaning in, she whispers, “You’re a rock-music-loving deviant at heart.”
I try to laugh.
“I know we don’t usually hang in the same circles,” she continues, oblivious to my internal freak-out, “but it’s time we change that.”
“You’re assuming I have a circle.”
Steph grins. “It’s small, but there.” She nudges me. “We’ve been roomies for a year. I love spending time with you at home. So I figured, why not? You know?”
I’m guessing now isn’t the time to tell her this is a bad idea. The worst in the history of ever. In less than five minutes, there’s going to be carnage and ugly tears. All because she’s a kind person who wanted to do something special for my birthday.
“Besides,” Steph winks, “Kai’s delicious and talented. Who wouldn’t want to ogle the fuck out of him?”
Me. That’s who.
Even the name spoken aloud is enough to quadruple the mayhem in my stomach. My head is screaming to abort mission. My feet are on board with the idea, but whenever I take the tiniest of steps, Steph pushes me back in place.
“I’ve got you, Tilly.” She gives me a tight hug.
I love the girl, I do. After a year of friendship, we had the perfect system. We coexisted in the same apartment without being an active participant in each other’s lives. Now all hell is about to break loose. Namely, I’m moments away from living out my worst nightmare.
It’s my own fault. I never told her the secret behind my move to Seattle. I also didn’t burn the concert ticket she gave me. I stupidly smiled like I meant it and gave her a massive hug in thanks. My conscience is biting me in the ass.
The house lights dim, casting the venue in almost complete darkness. The soft red wash from the overhead lighting does little to combat the sweltering haze caused by thousands of perspiring bodies.
With her eyes trained on the stage, Steph lets go of me. Her voice combines with others as they holler in anticipation. “We love you, Heathen!”
I pull on the neck of my daffodil-yellow button-up sweater. Sadly, rather than cool me down, the movement attracts more heat. It sticks to my skin, reiterating the fact that an escape through the closest window is in order. “I need some fresh air,” I tell her. “Won’t be long.”
She fervently shakes her head. “That’s a hard no. You won’t make it back in time. We’ve already stood out front, bought some drinks, gone to the toilet, bought more drinks. Girl, we’ve spent more time outside than we have inside. You’re staying.”
And here I thought I was so subtle in my avoidance.
“We’ve got prime real estate, you can’t give it up. Kai motherfucking Jenner is going to be standing within spitting distance of us.” She grips my shoulders, expression grave. “Spitting distance, Tilly.”
“You say it like it’s a good thing.”
Rolling her eyes, she lets go of my shoulders and hip checks me. “Trust me, it’s a good thing. Who knows? Maybe his spit has unicorn qualities and impregnates me? I’d have his babies in a heartbeat.”
“My previous comment still stands.”
Throwing her head back, Steph laughs. She grabs my hand, pulling me closer to the raised stage.
Damn, I thought she wouldn’t notice I’d shifted away again.
Quirking an eyebrow, she looks to our hands. “Why are you shaking?”
I aim for a nonchalant shrug. “Excited.” It’s difficult to swallow. “You know how it is.”
Despite the darkness, I can sense Steph’s gaze still on me. Or, more specifically, on my outfit. She’d never be a bitch about what I’m wearing but there’s a definite girl-have-I-taught-you-nothing-about-how-to-appeal-to-the-opposite-sex? sigh that escapes her glossy lips.
Steph shakes her head at my patent leather pumps, black pencil skirt, and wool-knit sweater. “Tilly, that outfit has no place at a gig.”
Feigning nonchalance, I shrug. “I came straight from work.”
“The Coffee Bean’s uniform policy doesn’t include pearls, Grandma.”
Okay, so the pearls were overkill.
“Or matching earrings.”
Yep, definitely overkill. But in my defense, I was desperate. Not that I can explain any of this to Steph.
With a trembling hand, I push some wayward curls behind one ear. At least, I try to. Seems I forgot I put my hair up in a bun earlier. Not the messy kind, the OCD kind. The kind where each strand is tamed into submission.
I want to leave.
I need to leave.
To hell with my roommate and her birthday gift, I’m getting out of here. I turn to go.
But before I can escape, the background music quietens, everyone presses forward, and we’re crammed against the stage.
“I can’t breathe.” My choked cry dies in the roar of the crowd as their first glimpse of him sends fans into a screaming frenzy.
He steals my breath.
Steph’s mouth drops open. “Oh. My. God.” She grips my hand painfully. “Omigodomigodomigod.”
My heart stops.