How much had he had to drink backstage with a gorgeous lead singer who wanted him?
“Fuck...finally,” John cursed, before he was charging toward the beer tent. Sofia was right behind him when she saw what he’d seen: Aish, sitting on a bench outside the large tent, looking sweaty and miserable as he swayed and gripped a half-empty bottle of water.
Sofia wanted to rush to him, wanted to throw her arms around him and pull his lolling head against her, wanted to start pouring gallons of cold water down his throat. But she didn’t. She slowed as John moved to Aish’s side.
“Fuck, dude, where’ve you been?” John cursed, punching his shoulder.
Aish winced as Sofia stood in front of him. “I couldn’t find you guys,” he groaned.
“You told Sofia you’d go back in fifteen minutes. You told me you were going back.”
“I wanted to.” Aish’s forehead clenched in misery. “But I started feeling shitty and...”
“I told you not to do those shots,” John said.
Aish squinted up at him. “We were doing shots?”
“You,” John said, looming over his best friend. “You were doing shots. You’re lucky she didn’t roofie you.”
Sofia watched these two indolent boys as the American sun beat down on her head and dehydration made her skin feel two times too small and endlessly old. And tired.
“Sofia?” Aish said, focusing on her.
She watched him and said nothing.
“Sofia,” he repeated, more urgent. He lifted the bottle over his head, upended the rest of it, and she realized then that his hair wasn’t sweat soaked. He’d been trying to sober up.
“I’m going to grab more water,” John said quietly before walking away.
Aish gripped the bench to keep from swaying as he looked up at her. “I’m sorry,” he croaked. “I fucked up.”
She dug her fingers into her biceps, squeezed her arms against herself.
“Could you...could you sit down? If I keep looking up, I’m going to hurl.”
She sat as close as she normally did, a stupid force of habit, and instantly smelled the strong scent of patchouli. It was coming off him. Aish—who never wore cologne, who smelled like salt and skin and sun, who had become her favorite scent—now smelled like another woman.
She quickly slid away from him and gripped her knees.
“Sofia...” It came out like a moan.
“What happened?”
“I...fuck... I don’t know. We went backstage and talked to the manager and it went well and then she gave us beers and, I swear, I know I only had one but shit started to go wonky and then...goddammit, I don’t remember doing shots...” There was real misery in his beloved voice. Sofia fought the horrifying inclination to soothe it. “The next thing I remember I was out here looking for you guys.”
“So you don’t know what happened with her?” She stared at the dirt between her sandals. Maybe she’d had too much to drink; she felt like hurling, too.
“Nothing happened with her.”
“You smell like her.”
“Fuck,” he cursed again, sharp and bitter. Like someone else had done this. Like he wasn’t responsible for this nightmarish moment. “She hugged me. She...kinda...was hanging on me when we talked to her manager.”
Then he’d gone back to say goodbye, did shots with her, and “forgot” what he’d been doing for the last hour and a half.
Sofia shot to standing. And found herself just as quickly in Aish’s lap.
“Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t,” he chanted low, pleading, against her neck, nosing under her hair and getting to skin, his long strong arms belting around her waist and holding her against him. “Please, please, don’t, I swear to God, nothing happened, I know it didn’t, my body knows it, it couldn’t have, I love you, I love you too much.”
He was heat and strength and safety plastered up against her, rocking and squeezing her, and she had to bite her lip to keep from sobbing.
“Please, please, I know I fucked up but please, let me fix it, we gotta fix it.” His breath was hot and vibrant against her back, her shoulders. She clenched her eyes shut against the sensation. “Please, Sofia, mi estrella, estrellita, I need you, tell me, tell me what we can do to fix this.”
Her traitorous body was melting into the urgent curve of his. He’d made love to her this way, forcing her to sit still with him deep inside her, his hands free to touch and pleasure her everywhere. She’d come explosively without one thrust, sucking on his fingers as he fondled her clit.
“Tell me,” he’d purred into her ear. “Tell me what you want.”
“I gave him everything,” her mother had sobbed. “And he treats me like trash.”
She tried to get up and he pulled her back.
“Oh god, don’t, Sofia, please.” His voice was broken. “Please, tell me...fuck...fuck, I know...” And he dumped her on the seat next to him, his big body wild as he reached for his back pocket and then came back empty handed to punch at his thigh. “Fuck, I don’t know what happened to my phone.”
Then he was on his knees in front of her, gripping her hands in his huge ones. People walking by snickered and hooted.
But he focused on her like she was the only person in Golden Gate Park. “I’ve been looking for apartments for us in LA.” He looked manic, pale and wide eyed.
“What?”
“Yeah, I bookmarked them and I can show you...come live in LA with me. Then when you go to Bordeaux, I’ll live with you.” His black eyes crackled. “I mean, if you want. I’ll have to fly home a lot...”
“Dude!” John had come back with more water bottles. He glared furiously at Aish. “You told her about the apartment? The manager just said having a girlfriend is a bad idea when you’re starting out.”
“That guy doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Aish said,
