What’s more cliché than falling for a guy in a band?
A no-strings fling is all it was meant to be for Gracyn George. Sun, sand, sex, and then move on. That was before he strummed his way into her life. Each note leaving a tingle in her spine, their lasting melodies burned into her memory.
What’s more cliché than pining for the one who got away?
Gavin Keller has sacrificed far too much to chase after the girl who snuck out in the middle of the night and left him wondering, What if …
No matter how high his star rises or how many sold-out shows he plays, he ends each concert scanning the audience for her.
What was supposed to be temporary becomes a longing neither is willing to let go. After months of trying to move on, can they sync the tunes in their hearts?
Gracyn’s gone. She fucking left me in the middle of the night, buck-ass naked and in her bed.
I waited more than an hour for her to come back from wherever she’d scampered off to, almost certain that she’d just gone out to grab us some breakfast. Took a shower and threw on my clothes from last night. Well, my board shorts because my favorite fucking shirt was gone, too.
The sun blazes down on my bare shoulders as I walk back to my shitty motel. It’s petty and stupid, but I’m too pissed off to put on a different T-shirt. It’s the principle.
My fist connects with Ian’s door with three solid thumps. The last thing I want to do is walk in on him getting ass when my chick had taken her fill and bailed on me. No fucking way I feel like dealing with his shit over this. I don’t want to hear it.
“Dude, you good?” I call as I hit the door again.
“S’open,” Nate yells. “Hey, didn’t think we’d see you today. She leaves tomorrow, right? That chick you’ve been hanging with all week,” he asks, looking away from the movie he’s watching, head propped up against the headboard of his bed.
“Fuck, man. Forgot we swapped rooms. I’ll—”
Ian looks up from his laptop and leans back, the colorful tats shifting as he folds his arms across his chest. “Jesus, what did she do? Steal your clothes and skip town?” The disgusted look on his face probably mirrors my own.
The door closes behind me as I cross the room and sit my ass down on the edge of the empty bed. I dig through Ian’s pack for a T-shirt. I pull on the first one I find, not caring if it’s clean, and flop back, staring at the water stains blooming across the ceiling by the bathroom. Hopefully, it’s the shower leaking in the room above us and not the shitter.
What the fuck happened? Why did she leave like that?
“Gavin? Seriously, man, what happened?” Nate’s sitting on the edge of his bed, features twisted in concern.
“I don’t know. I woke up, and she was gone.”
“Gone? Or out for a minute?”
“Gone. Left. Bags packed, including my fucking shirt. Just gone.” No matter how many times I go over it in my mind, it doesn’t congeal into anything that makes sense.
“Shit, man. That sucks balls,” Ian mumbles as he goes back to tapping at his keyboard. “What’re you gonna do? You text her yet?”
I run my hands through my hair, gathering it in my fists, and blow out a frustrated breath. “I don’t have her number.”
“Wait, what? You spent all fucking week with her. How do you not have her number?”
I roll my head to the side, so he can see just how fucking miserable I am. “I spent all fucking week with her. I didn’t really need it … until now.” Jesus, this is the worst. “What time are we playing tonight?”
“Ten, down on the beach. So … nothing? You got nothing? No way to find her?” Nate asks.
“Fuck. No, not really. Just a general idea of where she goes to school, and … no, I don’t even have a last name. I mean, I’m sure I could try to stalk the shit out of her, but she bolted, man.”
“Yeah … I guess she just wasn’t that into you, man. Fucked the rocker on spring break and went back to her Ivy League boyfriend.” As soon as the words leave his mouth, Ian cringes, gritting his teeth and sucking a breath through them. “Sorry, shit. I didn’t mean …”
“Whatever.” I pull out my phone, hoping there’s a message, but this day is nothing but all kinds of disappointments. I pop my earbuds in and pull up my post-show playlist. I crank some old school ’70s disco to clear my mind. And hopefully drift off to sleep.
Karin is a New York Girl living in a Midwest world. A connoisseur of great words, fine bourbon, and strong coffee, she’s married to the love of her life who is also her best friend. The mother of two grown men, she is proud to say that they can cook, open car doors for the ladies, and clean up after themselves (you’re welcome, world). Even though her boys no longer live at home, the three dogs she’s rescued have taken up their empty space.