Who I'm Becoming Page 9

  “Miranda, right?” he asked the girl across the table.

  “Yes.” She nodded.

  “It was great meeting you. I’m glad to know you enjoy our music.”

  “I do!” She clasped her hands. I rolled my eyes. “FireNine has been my favorite band ever since you guys made your debut song Break or Fight. My girlfriends love it, too. Listen to it almost every day.”

  Montana smiled at her genuinely. I took a sip of my scotch, feeling like a complete idiot. From what I could see, she was just an eager fangirl that was excited about meeting one of the band members. She didn’t seem interested in the sexual kind of way.

  “Well, anyway, it was great meeting you,” she said, standing to her feet. “I can’t believe I actually met you. I hope to meet the rest of the band one day!”

  Montana nodded. “Come backstage after one of our shows, and I’m sure you will. We love meeting new people.”

  She bobbed her head up and down. “I’ll try. Thanks!” She waved at him and then trotted off, meeting a few girls in the corner that squealed like pigs as they looked back at him.

  I pressed my lips and sat in the chair she was just in, avoiding his eyes.

  “That was unnecessary,” I heard him say a notch lower than the music.

  I didn’t say anything—well, not about her or the situation anyway. “Let’s go dance,” I insisted.

  “No… Lauren. What the fuck, man?” Montana lifted his hands in the air, his eyebrows thin. He was really upset. “You come over here and spill my drink all over the fucking table. You spazzed on me at the park only an hour or so ago. The fuck is up with you?”

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “I just need to cut loose.”

  He swallowed hard, jerking his gaze away. I’d never seen him so annoyed. It was obvious he wasn’t trying to remain annoyed for the rest of the night because he picked up his scotch, downed it, and then stood up. “I’ve gotta go… take a leak or something. I’ll be back.”

  He walked away before I could respond, and I lowered my drink, watching as he disappeared in the crowd. Okay… now he was acting careless? Or maybe I was just being a bitch? I was confusing him. I was deflecting all of his questions. Why? Because I was trying not to care.

  You’re getting on his nerves, that’s what you’re doing.

  “Just stop,” I muttered to myself. “Stop overreacting, and please stop being a bitch. This isn’t you. You’re pushing him away.” Just as I muttered that to myself, I took a quick look to my right and spotted him standing at the bar. But, of course, he wasn’t just standing. He was talking to someone… a girl. The same one that was just sitting at the table.

  Take a leak my ass!

  My hands locked around my glass as I watched him lean in and whisper something in her ear. She giggled and then nodded, which caused anger to boil inside me. My bottom lip trembled violently, but I refused to shed tears. If this was the game he wanted to play… so be it. I could play it just as well.

  Downing the rest of my drink and slamming it on the table, I stood up and shoved my chair in, making my way towards the dance floor. I pushed through, passing by the gyrating bodies and flailing arms. It was hot and sweaty, but that was nothing new. I loved the thickness. I loved to feel somewhat suffocated as I danced. I was suffocating myself with wildness—with excitement.

  I found a space big enough for myself and started dancing on my own. I made sure I was being sexy about it. I wanted to be a magnet to the hounds of the club. I wanted them to sniff me out and come for me like a shark would blood. My short club dress only enhanced the message.

  It didn’t take long for someone to step behind me. His hands ran across my bare shoulders and I glanced behind me. It was pretty dark, but he had a pretty smile, and his ears were pierced. From this angle, he looked hot and he smelled nice. The way he touched me also proved he’d done this a million times before. That was good. It meant he knew how to dance.

  The song changed to a faster paced one by Sean Paul. I buried my ass into his groin, and he groaned into my ear, clutching my hips. I smiled as I threw my head back, throwing my arms in the air. Sweat trickled down my forehead and the nape of my neck. “You’re good at this,” the guy murmured in my ear. As he spoke, the tempo of the song picked up even more, and he danced with me in rhythm. The more my hips shook, the more he clung to me, working his pelvis in rapid, sensual circles.

  The song was just about to come to an end when a hand locked around my wrist. I whipped my head up, meeting icy eyes. The guy behind me held on a little tighter. I turned, bringing both of them into my view. Montana looked from me to the guy’s hands on my waist. “You can get your hands off her,” he said, his voice just as arctic as his glare.

  The guy scoffed, hugging my hips tighter. “Get the fuck out of here, man. We’re dancing.”

  Montana released my arm, stepping closer to the guy. “Get. Your. Fucking. Hands. Off,” he growled, nostrils flared.

  “Okay… Stop.” I pulled out of the guy’s hands, and he looked down at me with a frown. “I’ll find you in a sec,” I told him, but I was lying. The plan had worked. His job was done.

  The guy looked Montana over, but Montana didn’t back down. He waited until the guy turned around and drifted through the thick crowd. Once he disappeared, he turned in my direction, his anger still apparent.

  “The fuck are you doing, Lauren?” he asked. His voice had changed. It didn’t sound like it belonged to him. It was deeper… darker.

  I folded my arms. I refused to go down as the defendant. “Dancing. What does it look like?”

  “Shit, looks to me like you don’t need me out here to have fun.” He stepped back, his eyes running up and down the length of my body. Was he… was he judging me?

  “Oh, don’t start that bullshit with me,” I snapped. “Don’t even try to play innocent!”

  “I am innocent!” he barked. “You don’t see me out here dancing with any bitches do you?”

  A few people stopped dancing to look at us. I swallowed hard, looking from them to the floor. I was embarrassed but most of all, hurt. I turned quickly, waving my hand in the air and dismissing the subject as I stormed through the crowd. I had to get the hell out of there. All of this was wrong. Him talking to that girl, whispering shit in her ear that he probably had whispered to me, was wrong. Me dancing with some stranger like he was my boyfriend was wrong. We were both in the wrong, and it was obvious what needed to be done.

  I burst out the club doors, rushing down the sidewalk, past the long line of people waiting to get in. Montana exploded through the door right behind me, only a few steps away as I drifted down the sidewalk. A few girls in line realized who he was and shouted at him, screaming his name to the top of their lungs. Some even reached for him, but he stepped out of the way, keeping his eyes on me each time I looked over my shoulder.

  “Lauren!” Montana called after me. I didn’t dare stop. I just wanted to get to the hotel. Far away from him…this. “Lauren, wait up!”

  I finally stopped, but only to flag down a cab. The engine of a stationary cab roared, the lights lit up, and it slowly started my way. I walked towards the yellow car, ready to hop in and leave. I yanked the door open and shouted the name of the hotel right away. Before I could climb in, Montana grabbed my arm and stopped me.

  I snatched my arm away, glaring up at him. “What!?” I barked. “What the fuck do you want, Montana?”

  He blinked quick and hard, his face somewhat defeated. “I’m trying to talk to you.”

  “Fuck that,” I muttered and started to climb in again.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” he said rapidly, holding his hands up in a plea. “Just tell me what I did wrong.”

  I paused, looking at him as if he had two heads. “Are you seriously asking that question?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know what I did that was so wrong!”

  “Hmm… let’s see. You saying you were going to the restroom but instead ending up at the bar and talking to one of your �
��fans’,” I snapped. “Whispering in her ear like you always do mine… nothing wrong there?”

  His eyes expanded, his lips parting. “That’s why you danced with that guy?”

  “Yes!” I snapped. “That’s why I danced with that guy!”

  “You’re fucking kidding, right?” he asked, laughing dryly. “I mean, you’ve gotta be.”

  I shook my head and scoffed, jumping into the cab. Montana hurried for the door, swinging it open before the driver could pull off.

  “Hey!” the man shouted, looking over his shoulder angrily.

  “It’ll be quick!” Montana barked before looking at me. “You were dancing all over that guy, Lauren. I wasn’t dancing with her. I wasn’t even fucking flirting with her. What you saw was me interacting with a fan. Trust me, there are a lot of bitches I could’ve flirted with in there, but I didn’t because I was there with you. She asked me what the band was working on next and if she could get a hint, and I told her. She couldn’t hear me over the music, so I said it in her ear. Same thing any other person in that fucking club would’ve done.”

  I crossed my arms, refusing to give into what I assumed were lies.

  “Lauren…” His voice was defeated. He grabbed my hands, and I looked down at them, feeling tears building at the rims of my eyes. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I have no reason to fucking lie. If I was flirting with her, I wouldn’t be out here now telling you this shit. I wouldn’t be trying to rest my case because I wouldn’t give a fuck. But I do. I give a fuck!”

  My bottom lip trembled. Silence filled the small car. I could still feel Montana’s eyes on me, and with the warmth of his hands, I couldn’t handle it. I knew what this was turning into. I knew it’d grown into something way more than either of us could handle. Montana probably couldn’t see it just yet, but it was bright and clear to me. This had become more… too much more.

  “Montana,” I whispered, looking up to meet his eyes. His were hopeful, which only pained me on the inside for what I was about to say him. “I think this is it. This is enough.”

  His hopeful eyes transformed to confused ones. His lips parted as if he was about to speak, but he clamped his mouth shut for a second. Then, he said, “I… I don’t get what you mean…”

  “I mean… this is it,” I said as strongly as I could. “I had fun, but I think it’s time it ended.”

  “But… it hasn’t even been a week yet. Why do you wanna stop now?” he asked. He squeezed my hands tighter. I looked away. I wasn’t sure what else to say to him. How was I supposed to explain to him that we’d gotten too serious? How was supposed to explain to him that this was all a mistake from the beginning? As it turned out, I didn’t have to speak because Montana slowly released my hands and stepped back. I looked at him just as he lowered his gaze. “Whatever you want, Lauren.” He stepped back again and stood up straight, shutting the door behind him. I stared out the window, watching as he turned his back to the cab and walked away. He didn’t look back once, and I don’t know why, but it killed me. I wanted to see his face at least one more time before the night was over.

  Tears stung my eyes as the driver pulled off and caused the distance between us to grow. Before I could stop them, they’d already fallen, but I held back on my sniffles. No tears, I scolded myself. This was just for fun. Why cry over it? Why become weak over it?

  When I made it up to my hotel room, I kept asking myself that question. Why cry over something that was only supposed to be a fling? Why cry over another man? I showered, trying to wash the feelings away, but when I reached for the towel, I realized why I wanted to cry. Montana was a good guy. He was sweet, charming, and provided more fun than I ever thought possible while in Cali. I didn’t think we’d hit it off so well, but we did. We connected in a way. Though the sex was out of this world, it didn’t top the bond we created. The constant, mind-blowing intimacy was a mere bonus compared to whatever we created.

  I knew from the start that Montana was exciting, and although he could be an animal when it came to women, he was a big softy on the inside when it came down to his true feelings. I could attest to it. Hell, I witnessed it that night as he finally let me go. He didn’t want to, but he did… for me. For my sake.

  I groaned as I sank on the edge of the bed, burying my face into my hands. Throughout the night, all I could think about was going up to his room and apologizing, but then some part of me would object, telling me there was no need for an apology.

  Hours passed.

  At the club, I assumed he was flirting. I let my emotions and insecurities get the best of me, as always. I was the one in the wrong. I was the one that needed to apologize, and that was exactly what I was going to do.

  After tossing on a tank top, a pair of sweats, and some flip-flops, I grabbed my room key and hurried out. I rushed for the elevator, pressing the button. To my surprise, it opened rather quickly, and I pressed the button for the top floor. When I reached his floor, I hurried for his door and pounded on it.

  “Montana,” I called through the door.

  No response.

  “Montana,” I called again. “Please… let me in. I’m… I’m sorry for my behavior tonight. Can we talk?”

  Still quiet. I pressed my ear to the door, hoping I’d hear him snoring—hoping to hear anything. I didn’t want to think the worst… but I think it’d already happened.

  After banging on his door for another two minutes without a response, I figured he had yet to return to the hotel, so I went back to my room and sent him a text. I waited as long as I could, but exhaustion over powered me, and I fell asleep to dreams laced with doubt and contrition.

  The next morning, I awoke, startled by the memory of the previous night’s events. I sprang up quickly and checked my phone.

  Nothing.

  Climbing out of bed, I went for the bathroom and gave my teeth and hair a quick brush. I had to see him. I had to make things right.

  I made it up to the top floor but as I neared his door, my throat seemed to close in on itself. His door was wide open, and sitting in the doorway was a cart full of janitorial items. I stepped around them, and a woman appeared by the bed in a housekeeping uniform.

  She heard me round the corner and smiled, pausing on fixing the sheets of the bed. I took a look around, but didn’t see any of his things here. No… God, no.

  “Can I help you?” she asked, breaking me out of a blank stare.

  “Uh… actually yes,” I said. “Is the person that was staying in this room still here?”

  “Oh… no. I was told to clean the entire room which means the guest must’ve checked out this morning or sometime last night.”

  “Really?” I breathed. My chest ached.

  She nodded, smiling. “Yes.”

  I nodded, backing away slowly. “Okay. Thank you.” I turned before she could spot my tears and pushed past her cart. I retreated to the elevator, biting back on my emotions as the doors opened to reveal several occupants who were stepping out as I walked in.

  When I finally reached my room, I slammed the door behind me and paced the floor with blazing tears burning eyes. I couldn’t cry… I didn’t want to… I refused… well, that’s what I was telling myself anyway.

  As I replayed last night over and over again, the tears came full force. I didn’t break down, per se, but it did cause me to buckle a bit.

  He left without saying goodbye, and it was my fault. As much as I wanted to be angry with him, I couldn’t because he did the same thing I would’ve done. He respected my wishes. I told him I’d had enough. He left because I pushed him away… actually, I forced him away. I pretty much kicked him to the curb. I hurt his feelings. There were times I’d see him again, but I knew it wouldn’t be the same. There would be tension.

  Wow. I couldn’t believe myself. No wonder I wasn’t happy. A girl as selfish and uncertain as myself didn’t deserve to be.

  MONTANA

  Twelve

  I’d never been awake this early. As I craned my neck to check
the time on the alarm clock, I saw it was nearing six in the morning. I sighed, placing the back of my head back on the pillow. So much shit had been running through my mind—shit that I’d been trying desperately hard to stop thinking about.

  It’d been two weeks. Two long, drawn out, gloomy weeks. The fact that I knew why I’d been so down in the dumps was what killed me. I’d never in my whole fucking life felt this way because of a girl. Ever. I was usually the one that played it cool, kept things simple, and went on my merry way. I never expected to feel so wound up and tight. I never thought I’d feel this way in my life… so hurt by the judgment of a woman.

  But she wasn’t just any woman. She was Lauren, and I didn’t know what it was about her but something made me feel things—things I couldn’t quite explain. Things I feared confronting.

  8 months ago…

  It was New Year’s Eve.

  I loved everything about this day. All the lights. All the fireworks. The cool weather. To top it off, FireNine had just jumped on board for a tour featuring all the hottest bands of the year. It started the month after, but we were excited. This tour was proof that we’d made it. If no one believed in us before, they’d better had now. We were performing with bands that we looked up to as kids. We were performing with bands that inspired some of our hit songs. We were proud as hell, and a toast had to be made.

  All of FireNine and the family were gathered in a penthouse Ben booked for a mini celebration. It was 11:57 PM, and I grabbed an uncorked bottle of champagne, holding it in the air while yelling, “Everyone! I need your fucking attention!” Dropping the F-bomb was pretty unnecessary, but I was shit faced and knew sooner or later I was going to end up passing out on that glossy marble floor.

  “Montana,” Ben hissed. “Get your butt down from that table. If you break it, I am not paying for it. You are.” He grabbed my arm and helped me down. I laughed, heading for the bar and picking up the corkscrew.