than paying me a simple compliment. It’s true about the guys at school. They’re always commenting on my ass, my breasts, all the things they want to do to me at parties, but I’m not interested in them. I’m interested in one guy, who is currently talking with my dad about his classic car.
“You need us to pay them a visit?” I roll my eyes at Baz’s offer.
“You’re rock stars, not the mafia.”
Besides, I can handle myself. Shrugging out from under Baz’s arm, I make my way back into the house. It’s not like Freddie has looked in my direction—not once.
Mom’s too busy fawning over her golden boy to notice me slipping a bottle of wine from the counter. There’s a party tonight, and it’s bring your own booze. Since there’s no way my parents would help me—a seventeen-year-old—get alcohol, I have to improvise. I slip it into my bag by the front door, and turn to find Freddie leaning against the wall, watching me.
“Creep much?”
My sarcasm hides the blush building having him so close.
“I was curious. I didn’t expect to see you stealing alcohol from your parents. I thought you were a good girl, baby Coleman.”
Snorting, I ask, “Why would you think that?”
I don’t know how I’m keeping my cool. I’ve crushed on him for what feels like forever, and here I am, talking to him like he’s not the only guy I want to jump on.
Everything about him, from his beautiful face, to the way he usually styles his hair—shaved around the sides and sweeping long on top—I can’t get enough of him.
“I don’t think too hard either way. Be safe.”
He pushes away from the wall and strolls back into the kitchen. I’m left standing in the hallway, already replaying our brief few moments alone together. I wasn’t expecting a one-on-one with him, so this is a bonus.
I walk back into the kitchen where the guys are digging into the spread Mom’s been preparing all day. Between shovelling food into their mouths and sipping beers Dad passes around, talk soon turns to the women throwing themselves at the guys, and by the sounds of their chatter—my crush plummeting to Hell—they’re all taking advantage of getting their dicks wet.
I’m out. I can’t hear this.
To survive my crush, I make myself believe Freddie’s an angel while they’re on the road during their tours.
With a quick goodbye, I make it as far as the front door before Damon catches up to me.
“We come back for Christmas, and you rush out to party on Christmas Eve? Haven’t you missed us?”
Of course I have, but one more than most. I just can’t bear to hear their dirty stories.
“Don’t be so dramatic, big brother. I won’t be home late.”
Grabbing my bag, I go to open the front door, but he’s there, blocking my way.
“Whose party is it”? he demands to know.
“Roman Polazzi. Why? You got a problem with that?”
“Do I need to have a problem with it?”
I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Damon, get out of my way. I’ll be home by midnight.”
He relents and steps aside. I wouldn’t put it past him to lock me in, so I make a quick escape before he pulls anymore of his big brother crap.
I’m so drunk, I barely remember falling out of Paris’s car and stumbling across the front lawn. The party was lit, and I may have drunk a bit more than usual.
On my fourth attempt, I manage to slide the key into the lock and open the door. I fall through, my knees hitting the floor, but I don’t feel any pain. A giggle escapes me, and I slam my hand over my mouth. Even in my drunken haze, I know not to wake my parents.
The next thing I know, I’m flying through the air, and when I see why, my eyes struggle to focus.
“Looks like you had a good time,” Freddie says.
“Yep,” I chirp happily.
In the next blink, he’s laying me gently on my bed and stepping away.
“Don’t you dare tell your dad I was in your room.”
Before I can blink, he’s gone. Perhaps I fell asleep? I don’t know, but I curse myself for drinking so much.
I drift off, wishing I was older. And, more importantly, the focus of Freddie Tucker’s world.
12
Freddie
I wake up to my alarm, the first time in years I’ve had to set one and I jump straight in the shower. Today is a new day and I’m more than ready to set shit in motion. I wash