Missing You, Missing Me (You and Me Series Book 1) Read online

  This only excited the men more. I flipped them my middle finger as I reached the door, but paused when I heard Adrian’s voice again. "We used to be together. Cleo and I. She was good, real good. But I told her, 'Babe, this horse, me, I'm a horse. I can't be tied down at seventeen, you see,' So I had to let her go." I turned around, my anger rising. That was not how it went down.

  "Really Adrian? So, you guys breaking up had nothing to do with you being gay?" Derek said. The room was dead silent waiting for Adrian's drunken response.

  "Well yeah, that too," he laughed and the room roared. I sighed and headed out the door as Adrian tried to explain that he wasn't entirely gay, but bisexual. He liked everyone, and everyone liked him.

  When the cold night air hit me, only then did I remember how cold Chicago could get. I was wearing black shorts and a tight black tank top. I completed the look with white suspenders, fishnet tights, and my black converse. On stage it gets hot, I would be sweating within minutes, but out here it was pretty chilly. I shivered. His voice came out of the darkness causing me to jump.

  “Cold?” I paused and looked around. His voice sounded close. I heard the rustle of his vest before I saw him. My eyes were still adjusting to the dark.

  A moment later I was looking straight into Ethan Andrews deep blue eyes. Now I was never into blue eyes, but man did he make me into them. Even before we had gotten together, I had always found him cute. We played shows together for almost two years before we… I shook my head, pushing the memories away.

  Up close his face was even more gorgeous than I remembered. His nose was perfectly straight, his jaw and chin strong. I noticed that he had pierced his nose and lip. There was a thin, silver hoop over his nostril. Moving lower I paused at his perfect, kissable lips, and that hair. I loved his hair. He took off his black jean jacket and handed it to me. I noticed he had put a black shirt on under it.

  I took it and put it on quickly. It was surprisingly warm. “Thanks. I forgot how windy Chicago is.” He smirked and raised his eyebrow. We stood in uncomfortable silence.

  "You ready for the show?" He asked me. It sounded so forced.

  "Yeah, I guess. Ready to get it started. The waiting is the worst. There's nothing to do," I shrugged and pointed back to the bus that was almost rocking. I groaned, praying that nothing of mine was getting broken. He looked at the bus and extended his hand. I took it. He was already leading me away before he closed his hand on mine.

  My stomach was a wreck. This could go either good or bad. We didn’t walk far. We stopped in front his bands' van, and he dropped my hand. Pulling the keys out he unlocked it and opened the back. He motioned for me to get in. I hesitated, not feeling entirely comfortable with this.

  He sighed, rolling his eyes. "I won't bite. I just want to talk and there's nowhere to go where people won't be eavesdropping," he said. That made sense. I climbed inside.

  The inside of their van looked similar to ours, heavily lived in. They had been playing almost as long as we had. He got in after me and closed the door. I sat down on the first bench, my back on the wall. He sat down next to me but scooted over towards the door. The tension was palpable. Neither of us wanted to be here, but I think we both knew we had to talk. Might as well get it out of the way.

  Along with the shirt he threw on, he was also wearing thick black eyeliner now, which only made him hotter. I pulled my legs up onto the seat and wrapped my arms around them. I would wait for him to speak first. His body was stiff, he glanced at me and realized I wasn’t going to talk.

  "So, how have you been?" he finally asked, his voice heavy with pep and sarcasm.

  "Fine. You?" I said tightly.

  He scoffed. "Just dandy." Silence followed. Honestly, I didn't know where to start. I jumped when he suddenly slapped his palms on his thighs and gave me the fakest smile I have ever seen. "Well, now that we have finally talked we can enjoy the rest of this summer together without everyone asking about it," he said and put his hand on the door handle.

  In a panic I opened my mouth and said, "Wait," He turned back to me, eyebrows raised. "Do you hate me?" I blurted out. It took him by surprise; his jaw tightened again.

  “I don’t know. Kind of. Why? Do you hate me?” He asked, his eyes curious.

  "No. I just, I'm sorry. It was a dick move," I said lamely. His eyes rolled.

  "That's the understatement of the year," he smirked. I glared at him. He relaxed into his seat, stretching his legs. Silence returned.

  “You didn’t want to do this,” I finally said. His hands were resting behind his head. He turned and looked at me.

  “No, no I didn’t.” With a sigh, I shifted my body, putting my legs on the floor. I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting. He sat up straight and turned towards me. He looked irritated.

  “Don’t make me the bad guy. I know you didn’t want to either,” he accused, his eyes turning icy.

  "Because I knew you'd act like this!" I protested.

  "Like what? You dumped me! You broke my heart and left me with this!" His finger jutted to his tattoo. I noticed the muscles in his neck were tense. I flinched. He saw it and calmed himself down. His body was tense and he turned to look forward, refusing to look my way.

  “Did you expect me to forget? I couldn’t move on as fast as you could,” he spat.

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said, crossing my arms. I could feel my eyes beginning to water.

  “You’re right. I have no clue. Because you left. You left me sitting in a hotel broken, alone and with a permanent reminder of you.” I stood up and took a step closer to him.

  “I was scared!” I shouted back at him. He pulled back and looked up at me in surprise. His anger slipped off his face and turned into pain. I sat back down and glared at him.

  "And you think I wasn't? Cleo, I had never felt like that. I was in love with you," he said, no longer yelling. My stomach flipped again. I stared at him, his eyes were torturous. I had to look away. I caused that look on his face. Guilt flooded me.

  "I'm sorry Ethan," I said lamely. He shook his head and turned his back to me.

  "Nothing to be sorry for. I had my chance; you made your choice," he told me. I clenched my jaw to keep my mouth shut. It wasn't what he thought. Not anymore anyway.

  "I don't want to spend the entire summer fighting. We have to share a bus and stage. I screwed you. Big time. I get it. I remember it every single day," I told him, moving my hair to show him my matching tattoo. His eyes flicked briefly to it then back to my face. "We need to be professional. I'm not saying we have to be best friends, but we can't be like this," I motioned to the air between us. I stopped talking, and he nodded.

  "You're right. I just needed to get it out of my system," he said, giving me a half-hearted smile. I smiled back and put my hand on his. He looked down at it as I squeezed it. He squeezed it back.

  "We should probably head out there," he murmured pulling away and opening the door quickly. We stepped out and he locked up before turning back to me. I offered my hand and he took it. We walked back together. His hand was warm and calloused from playing guitar. A spark of memory flashed across my mind. The first time I saw him play.

  Back then he also played the guitar for shows along with vocals. I was backstage waiting for my bands turn on the stage. He happened to turn his head and saw me watching him. He smiled as he sang into his microphone. I was sixteen.

  Memories flooded over me. Fighting, flirting, our first kiss, the first time we…

  “Was it bad? After the magazine cover?” I asked suddenly. He looked down at me and raised an eyebrow. God, he was so cute.

  My mind quickly shot to the painful event right after our break up. It had all started with Polygraph Magazine’s February issue. He had mentioned he was going to be in it and surprise surprise, Ethan had made the cover. He had his face to the side, with my name written very clearly on him. I got a phone call from our manager before I could open to the page where his interview was on. Sam was fu
rious that I hadn’t told him. He wanted to know everything and figure out if we needed to do damage control. I figured if Ethan had said anything bad about me, I probably deserved it. But he hadn’t. I had memorized the words. He only said:

  "She broke my heart, and I'm still working through things. I wish her the best."

  Within hours everyone was calling Sam trying to get information. Some offered large amounts of money for just a statement or photos. It was nuts.

  Since we were signed to the same label, the bigwigs had wanted us to cash in on this, make some music together, do a video or something. But Sam talked them out of it, for the time being. That didn’t stop them from trying. Hence the current tour. But I think everyone thought enough time had passed that we’d be okay seeing each other.

  Ethan squeezed my hand tighter, bringing me back to him. "Yeah, it was. It sucked." My heart sank. I knew the answer but hearing it from his mouth made it real. He dropped my hand, and I felt his body tense next to mine.

  “So, you really married him,” he said solemnly. My eyes started to fill with tears. I nodded.

  “Yeah. I did.”

  The media painted me as a slut who had moved on too quickly. Ethan was the miserable, lovesick fool, while I was the whore who got married to some stranger. People told me that I was a life ruiner and that both men were way out of my league. I received hate mail and photos of me with nasty words painted over my face. It was awful, but I couldn't help but feel like I deserved it.

  "How did he react, by the way? I mean, he still married you, so he must not have been that mad," Ethan asked. I frowned, I didn't like to think about it.

  "He was confused and a little upset. He doesn't often get emotional." I had to give him credit. He took it all pretty well, swearing a few times. Then he asked me if it was over, which I told him it was. Eventually, he calmed down and asked me to get it removed. I said I would, but I kept putting it off. I just wore my hair down most of the time.

  "I told him that I understood if he wanted to break up, but he said he still wanted to marry me. So, we went to one of those 24-hour chapels in Vegas and did it," I said. He raised his eyebrows slightly but then frowned.

  “I remember seeing the picture. What’s his name?” His voice was cold and distant.

  "Christopher," I said, barely above a whisper. The pain returned thinking about the last time I saw him.

  "He sounds like he really loves you," he replied flatly. I didn't say anything else. Maybe, once upon a time. Somewhere along the line things changed. He wasn't the man I thought I had married.

  "So where do we go from here?" He asked.

  "I don't know. Can we be friends?" I asked him, and he turned to look at me. We were almost to the bus.

  "I'd like that," he smiled down at me. That smile was beautiful. My stomach flipped. Why, after all this time, did he still do this to me?

  "I like the hair, by the way. Pink suits you," he added. I tugged self-consciously at my long cotton candy locks.

  "Thanks. I brought enough dye with me to last the entire tour." He laughed and I couldn't help but relax again.

  I dyed my hair a week or so before the tour. I had been moping around Derek's apartment for weeks. They finally got me up and forced me to shower and go outside.

  “Enough of this sad girl shit. This is not the Cleo we remember. You’re in a rock band! Act like it!” Derek said. Adrian and Mark agreed.

  While we were at the drug store picking up black hair dye for Mark and other various toiletries we would need for the tour, Adrian picked up a box of hair dye. He waved it at me playfully. He raised his eyebrows up and down. "What do you say? You wanna go full beauty school dropout?" I thought about it and decided, screw it. Why not? We spent the rest of the afternoon in Derek's bathroom dying my dark head pink. Oddly enough, it did make me feel like the old Cleo.

  I looked back at Ethan who was smiling softly. His shoulders loosened. He was finally relaxing. The bus door swung open and the group of loud men fell out laughing and yelling at each other. Damn them. I guarantee my tequila is gone. Sure enough as I moved aside to let them climb out, Adrian let out a high pitched Mexican grito, "AYE AYE AYE!" and then hurled the empty bottle across the parking lot, shattering it.

  "Oh, come on!" I groaned. I had just gotten that bottle.

  "Show's gonna start soon," Ethan whispered. I looked up at him. He leaned down and kissed me quickly on my neck. Right on his name. I almost leaped out of my skin it was so unexpected. I looked around, and thankfully everyone was too excited and drunk to have seen us. I stood there with my mouth open. He turned back to me and winked. He was grinning ear to ear. I shivered and I wasn't cold. I placed my fingers on the skin his lips had briefly touched. What was that?

  I followed everyone, my arms around myself, inhaling his scent off his vest. Oh, he smelled so good. I realized that it was the same scent from when we dated. It only took a few seconds for me to catch up with them and just a slight push to get Adrian on the ground. I remembered my bottle of tequila. I stepped over him while he pretended to be hurt. "Aw man, help! Guys help!" He called, but my fellow band mates had been through this routine, so they just kept on with their conversation.

  "Where's the little girl?" I demanded as I dropped my body onto him. His eyes widened with realization of what I was doing. It was a long-standing joke. We’ve all been trapped once or twice over the years. I do believe he was the last one to get me, so this was definitely owed to him.

  The air rushed out of him, but he just kept calling for help. "Where's the little girl Adrian?" I asked again as I began to tickle him mercilessly.

  "Oh, come on! No, stop, please!" He struggled to say as he wiggled under me and tried to breathe.

  "What do you owe me, Adrian?" I continued, pausing to hear him. He groaned and mumbled. "What was that? I didn't hear you. Do you know where the little girl is?" His eyes widened, and he shook his head furiously.

  "No, no. I owe you a new bottle. I'll get some tonight, swear!" I smiled and called to the other guys.

  "Hey, have you guys seen the little girl?"

  Mark and Derek with grins, said in unison “No, where is she?” I plunged my hands into Adrian's sides, tickling him until he cried, tears streaming down his cheeks. “There she is!” We all shouted as everyone erupted in laughter.

  I stood up, letting Adrian breathe. He moved slowly but got onto his feet grumbling about losing his buzz while holding his sides. I shook the dirt off of me and smiled at the group. My eyes found Ethan's briefly, but he hurried inside ahead of everyone. The rest of his band followed him into the building.

  We could hear one of the opening bands playing already, so we knew it was almost our time. The wind passed through me making me shiver. I wrapped Ethan's jacket tighter around me catching another whiff of him. I couldn't get enough of it.

  We stopped at the doors. Mark and Derek wanted one more cigarette. It was just the four of us. We made small talk about the tour while they smoked. Adrian asked if I was nervous. I smirked and Derek wrapped an arm around my shoulders.

  "We are going to rock this joint!" Derek shouted, squeezing me tightly. One by one they flicked their cigarettes onto the ground and stomped them out. We all cheered and fist bumped. That was the closest we would get to a sappy moment, and we all knew it, so we went inside before it got weird.

  The last opening band was on stage now. I felt someone behind me. Turning, I saw Ethan grinning at me. “Have you been brushing up on your acting skills?”

  Chapter Two

  Punks Don’t Dance

  When we were signaled to head to the stage, I turned to him. “Let’s get this over with so we can crush you,” I said in a growl. He tried to stay angry, but we both burst into laughter. We gave each other one last look before walking onto the stage together.

  The crowd began to cheer and scream when they saw us. I stalked over to the microphone. I went to grab it when Ethan came up and took it right from my hands. I gasped but then quickly crossed my a
rms, glaring daggers at him. He smirked at me. He was good at this.

  “Hello everyone! We want to play fair at this battle of the bands. We were nominated to come out and flip to see who gets to play last. So, get over here Barbie,” he said to me. I almost lost it, breaking character when he leaned over and pulled on one of my ponytails. I ripped the microphone from his hands. He looked taken back.

  “Alright, alright. Ethan can make his jokes, but let's see if he can really perform,” I looked him up and down slowly, starting from his feet. When I reached his eyes, he was blushing. Ha, I got him back. It took everything in me not to start laughing. He took the mic back and rolled his eyes big enough for them to see.

  “Okay. Let's flip this coin so we can get this party started. Plus someone might need some extra time to practice,” Ethan said and flipped the coin. He pointed the mic at me so I could shout out, “Tails!” It fell to the stage. Of course it was heads, which we both knew it would be. He had a double-sided coin. The crew would be irritated if we changed the schedule every night. It was all for show.

  I glared at his smug face. Finally, we ended our little intro with doing the faceoff pose that was on all the posters. Our fists were in the air as we stared each other down. The crowd went berserk. Hurrying backstage, everyone hooted and congratulated us. The crew moved past us to get the stage set up.

  “That was freaking awesome,” Seth said.

  “Yeah, the crowd is loving this whole thing,” Mark added excitedly.

  “Wait until we start playing,” I told them. They agreed, and the other band wafted away. While we waited for our cue, I sang a few notes. There was a tap on my shoulder.

  “Hmm?” I turned, irritated to see Mark. I was ready to get in front of that crowd. The anticipation was the worst. Once I was on the stage with the mic in my hand it was no big deal. He shrugged and looked towards the stage again.

  “I was just wondering where you got that jacket. It looks familiar,” he smirked. I shot him a look but said nothing.