The Problem With Crazy (7 page)

W
HEN
I saw my boyfriend sign another girl’s chest, it was too much. Instead of marching up and confronting him, embarrassing him in front of his newfound fans, I ran to the bathroom, shut myself in a cubicle and concentrated on breathing.

Which was I more upset about, the boobs or his smile?

This really wasn’t a big deal, was it?

But why did he look so happy?

Even as I heard the sentence in my mind I knew it sounded lame. What sort of a rock star wouldn’t sign boobs? It was bad marketing for him to refuse that kind of attention. And it wasn’t like he kissed her, or anything.

The delicate notes of the start of a Coal song filtered into the bathroom, mixed together with the sound of faucets and flushing.

Keep it together, Kate.

I pulled up my pants and pulled myself together, running downstairs to the sold out main room where thousands of girls were now pulsing to Coal’s beat. It was easy to fall into their music, and I found myself swaying, hypnotised by the talented lead singer, Lee Collins, the first singer I’d ever had a celebrity crush on. I tried to ignore the sick feeling twisting my stomach into knots and watched the rest of the gig with Stacey and her new friend who, by the final song, were shamelessly making out on the dance floor.

Dave found me leaning against a wall next to the overly affectionate couple when the music stopped, and I was so glad to be getting out of there I’d all but forgotten the incident earlier. This was our night.
The
night.

As soon as his hands wrapped around my waist and his lips pressed against my cheek, I shivered, desire flashing through me.

“Can we get out of here?” I whispered in his ear. Dave snapped his head around to my face and kissed me on the lips, hard and passionate, tasting of beer and sweat and success.

“You bet,” he said into my mouth. He grabbed my hand and led me to the backstage door so he could get his guitar, flashing his pass to let me through security.

Backstage was nothing like I’d expected—no red carpet, no chandeliers. Instead, it was stark white light in a messy room with carpet that needed a serious cleaning. A table of untouched food was set up in one corner and an empty cooler in the other. The back wall was covered in graffiti, signatures of bands that’d played at the venue before. I stared at the wall, trying to see what the famous people wrote, how different it was from standard high school graffiti.

Killing Time 4 EVA
was scrawled in a script font level with my shoulders. An arrow was pointing to it just underneath, where someone had scribbled
Suck a dick
.

Apparently, high school graffiti and rock star graffiti were pretty much one and the same.

“Nice job, man.”

My eyes widened.

That voice.

Was it … Lee from Coal?

“Thanks, dude.” Dave walked behind me, and I spun around, almost falling over in my enthusiasm.

There he was: Lee Collins. He was tall, much taller than Dave, with icy blue eyes and a rough jaw of darkened stubble. His hair was a little too long, and he exuded this animal magnetism that made my heart get all
thump-thump.

“We’ve got a really good fan base at the moment,” Dave was saying, which was good as it meant I could keep staring and ignore the fact I could barely feel my knees. I was completely star-struck. Lee-freaking-Collins!

“Yeah, seems that way.” Lee smiled this slow, sexy smile, and I swallowed.

“We’ve just gone from strength to strength. It won’t be long before you’re opening for us, bro.” Dave gave Lee a light punch on the arm.

Oh, God.

Ground, please open up and swallow me.

What had Dave just
said
?

You just didn’t joke about someone like
Coal
being your opening act. They’d won a Grammy, for crying out loud.

“Kate.”

I glanced at Dave, feeling his elbow give me a sharp jab to the ribs. I widened my eyes at him. Why was he being so rude in front of Lee, who was—

Oh. Whose hand was outstretched in my general direction.

Like, waiting-to-shake-my-hand outstretched.

“Hi,” I said. I think. At that point, I could have also died, I’m not really sure because I was touching Lee Collins’s hand. My knees went weak. It was lucky he was holding my hand, because if he wasn’t, I was sure it would be shaking.

“I’m Kate.” His eyes were so blue, so deep, I felt I could stare at them forever.

“He knows. I just introduced you.” Dave threw an arm around my shoulder.

“Hi … again?” I tried.
Well, this could be less awkward.

“All right man. We’ll see you on the road.” Dave grabbed his guitar case and ushered me down the hall, back into the throngs of people outside the venue.

“Maybe don’t act so obviously in love with him when we’re on tour,” Dave muttered as the blast of fresh air hit my face.

“I was just—it was Lee from Coal, Dave,” I said. “I’m not in love with him. It was just the initial celebrity thing. You know I’ll be cool.”

“Good.”

We found Stacey and said our goodbyes, and I waved when one of her brothers came to pick her up. Dave signed a few more autographs, and then we walked two blocks down the street, and entered through the sliding doors of a much cleaner, brighter hotel, with white marble floors and sprawling timber ceilings.

I heard a few hushed voices pointing Dave out and felt some glances in our direction but Dave seemed oblivious, only giving a slight nod to the hotel clerk as we walked past the check-in desk and entered the lift.

“You’ve already checked in?” I asked, once the metal doors closed behind us.

“Of course,” Dave replied. He flashed me a tired smile. Any tension he’d felt earlier seemed to have disappeared. My own anger at the boob signing, the star-struck moment meeting Lee—they were gone. Tonight was about us, after all. “What a night, huh?”

“Totally,” I agreed.

The doors opened and we walked in silence down a corridor until Dave produced a key and stuck it in a lock, pulling it out and holding the door open for me as I walked in.

The room was beautiful. A huge king-sized bed with a white quilt lay before me, the lights of the city sparkling out the window like little twinkling stars fourteen storeys below. A bottle of champagne was chilling in a bucket at the end of the bed, and pink rose petals had been strewn everywhere, like a scene from a movie.

“They wouldn’t light the candles for me, in case it burnt the place down while we were on stage.” Dave propped his guitar against the wall then pulled a lighter out of his pocket, darting around the room to illuminate the wicks of the clusters of red candles on the bedside tables.

“It’s—it’s beautiful.” I breathed out, slowly. It was amazing. Dave had done all this—for me?

“You’re beautiful.” He placed the lighter down, and came over to me once more, his hands cupping my face gently between them. His green eyes glittered darkly in the dimmed light. “I’m so excited for our tour.”

He ducked his head, stepped into me. I brought my lips to his, and we kissed. His tongue darted inside my mouth and I felt him, warm and wet. His kisses were lazy, lolling around, but his body pressed against mine with urgency till we couldn’t get any closer. I tried to focus, to get excited by it all, and moved my hands to his waist, raising them up his body over the damp stickiness of his shirt, feeling the muscles in his back, the tone of his sides.

Dave moved his mouth to my neck, and I inhaled sharply as he sucked against it. Soon, his hands were roaming all over me, up my back and around to the sides of my ribs.

We stepped toward the bed, him moving backwards but never letting the gap between our bodies widen, always covering my mouth with his, as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste.

We reached the bed, and he sunk down onto it, pulling me with him. I lowered myself over his body and concentrated on keeping my weight on my hands, trying not to squash him.

After a few minutes, Dave tried to swap our positions so he was on top. He fell to the side a little, his hand getting stuck behind my back. I giggled, and he held a single finger to my lips, a slight frown on his face. Apparently, this was not a laughing moment.

Seconds later, it was back on. I felt him kissing my neck, sucking and pulling at it, biting my ear. It was wet, and he really was sticky after sweating it out onstage. I found myself staring at the small round lights on the ceiling, wondering if this was how it was supposed to feel, and when exactly I was supposed to take my clothes off. Would he do it, or would I? Would there be an interim time where we were both in underwear?

And
ow!
I was fairly certain he wasn’t supposed to grab my nipple so hard
through my shirt
that I wanted to yelp.

I scrunched my eyes shut and tried to get lost in the moment again. No one’s first time was great; Stacey had warned me.

We rolled onto our sides, and Dave’s hands worked their way down the edges of my top and lifted it up. They explored my stomach, tickling their way over my ribs, until they reached my chest, kneading through my bra and cupping my breasts.

Dave’s earlier boob autographing flashed through my mind.

I tried to ignore it, focussing instead on the present.

“Oh, Kate,” Dave groaned in my ear. His hands were trying to get inside my bra now, one fiddling with the clasp, the other trying to access from underneath.

What exactly had he written on her chest, anyway? Do you address the autograph “Dear Tits” or use the girl’s name?

And why am I thinking about this now?

I pushed Dave away, managing to get a tiny bit of distance between our top halves, our legs still firmly intertwined.

“Okay?” he asked. He was already leaning back in, desperate to close the gap between us again.

“Dave, wait.” I placed my hand on his chest. He stopped, a slight frown marring his otherwise ghostly white forehead.

“Wait?” A dangerous edge serrated his voice.

“I just need to ask you something, that’s all,” I said, chewing on my lip. How on earth was I going to phrase this one?

“If it’s about protection, I brought—”

“No, no, it’s not that. It’s just—” I paused. My pulse started to race again, and not with lust. “—just that I saw you signing some girl’s boobs earlier, and I was wondering were you attracted to her, or will you do that at all the shows this summer, and—”

“You’re stopping this right now because you saw me signing some girl’s boobs?” Dave’s words dripped with disdain. He untangled his legs from mine, shifted his arm away from my body. His actions hurt more than his words ever could. “You saw me doing my job, interacting with a fan, after which you all but threw yourself at Lee Collins, and—”

“I did not throw myself at him.” My jaw dropped. “I’ve just never met someone famous before.”

“You looked like you wanted to fuck him.”

“I’m sorry.” I curled my legs up under me. “I didn’t want to—it was just that celebrity thing. It won’t happen again.”

“But still, you’re going to persist, and act like me signing Tara’s boobs is a big deal?” He raised his eyebrows.

Tara.

He’d remembered her name.

“It’s not a big deal,” I said. “I was just wondering, you know?”

“What does it matter whose boobs I sign or touch during the shows if it’s you I’m sleeping with at night?” Dave sat up, fire in his eyes.

“Whoa, calm down, babe. It was just … a …” I leaned forward and hooked my hand around Dave’s neck, pulling him closer to me. It wasn’t that big a deal.

We kissed, and I threw myself into it. I pressed my body against his, I thought only sexy thoughts, and I sucked in my stomach and tried like hell to look hot. When I reached for the hem of his shirt, though, Dave grabbed my hand, roughly pushing it down over his crotch. He squeezed my wrist so tight it hurt.

“Ow!” I pulled back, snatching my hand away.

“What now?” His face was unreadable.

“You hurt me.” I gave a half smile and shook my head. He was being so
weird
today. What the hell was wrong with—

“I don’t think I can get past this.”

I blinked.
What?

“I am so into you, Kate. I’ve stayed with you for two whole years, even though you’ve held onto your virginity like it was your last card in a high-stakes poker game, and you’re trying to stop me now? When I’ve done all this, even after everything with your dad the other day?” Dave gestured to the room around him. I took it in; the flower petals, the champagne, the sweet scent from the candles that had melded with the rose’s perfume.

“I appreciate what you’ve done.” My voice wobbled. “And I’m not the one stopping here. I’m ready; I told you.”

Dave slowly exhaled and bent over, resting his head in his hands between his knees.

“You know, this isn’t easy on me.” He didn’t even look at me. His eyes were fixed firmly on his big, black boots.