The Rockstar Who Loves Me

Song 18 ♫ If You Kiss Me

When I opened my eyes, I was in the back of a van beside Tae Yang. I sprung forward but the seatbelt restrained me.

"Easy there," he said, his hands up as if he were trying to tame a wild beast.

On the driver's and passenger's seat were two men so massive, they seemed to shrink the space around them. The one on the passenger's side turned to me and offered a water bottle. No words.

Eyes wide, I turned to Tae Yang. "Are we being kidnapped?"

"Uh, no." He shook his head. "But we're not far from the club, we can still turn back if you want."

That cleared up some of the haze in my head and I recalled the exchange at the bar, where he'd asked me if I'd wanted to head back home with Leyna or him and I said—

I groaned and let my head drop forward. My hair came forward like a cascade, hopefully obscuring my face. "I want to die."

Burly guy one, behind the wheel, turned his head back for a split second. "Please, not all over the upholstery. It's leather."

Burly guy two tossed the water bottle on my lap. "We have antacid here somewhere."

A pair of hands guided me back to rest against the seat and pushed my hair away. Tae Yang's face appeared before me. His forehead was wrinkled. "Why did you drink so much?"

I sighed, burrowing my cheek against the palm of his hand. "I needed to drown my sorrows."

"Did it work?" he asked.

No.

Yes? It had magicked him out of thin air. I was considerably less sad next to him, than with his presence only in my mind.

A boulder rolled within my stomach and I sat up ramrod straight to keep it down. The water bottle in my lap was sealed shut, and I broke the seal to take a big gulp.

"Antacid is not a bad idea," I said, and burly guy two handed over a pack of medicine. In the motion, I glanced out the window and recognized the street. Leyna must have given them my address. "Whoa, whoa. Stop the car."

"Are you gonna puke?" the driver asked, his voice five octaves higher than normal.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "I just can't go home like this."

The van was pulling into my neighborhood, and the thought of Mom seeing me in this state made me break into a cold sweat. I popped some more medicine as a terrible picture popped into my head, of Mom wielding her chancla at her thirty-something-year-old daughter.

I swallowed thick and whispered. "Mom will kill me."

Amid all my suffering, Tae Yang had to bite his lips hard not to laugh.

"Turn around, Mickey," he said. "Let's go to my place instead. I'll drive her home when she feels better."

The driver, Mickey, asked, "Are you sure?"

The passenger must be Steve, who turned around. "We blocked any pics at the club but if anyone sees you taking her into the house—"

Tae Yang waved a hand. "We'll figure it out."

In unison and with the same amount of irony, both men said, "Okay..."

Battling with the seatbelt, Tae Yang removed his hoodie and put it on my lap. "You should take a nap, I'll wake you up when we arrive."

The hoodie was thick and impregnated with his warmth. When I pulled it up to cover my arms, I caught his scent on the fabric and I closed my eyes. I didn't even respond, but I did obey his suggestion in a second.