Read Rock Me (New Adult Rockstar Romance) for Free Online

twinkle mischievously. “Are you all ready to go?” Everyone claps, cheers.
     
    “Are you ready?” he repeats. The eager crowd screams. He stomps a black-booted foot on the stage and yells his question one more time.
     
    “Are you ready?!” he bellows. Everyone roars. I roar, my voice joining the throng, as loud as I can, until I feel like one of them. My shell slips off, the fog dissipates. I am clear-headed. I am present. I am here, I am Now.
     
    Garret looks down at the front row, straight at me. Our eyes come together for the briefest of seconds as music erupts from the speakers. The drumbeat explodes, pounds, and I can feel it in every tingling nerve ending. Garret’s eyes close as he throws his head back and howls the first long note of the night, losing himself in the atmosphere, losing himself alongside them and us and me.
     
    ***
     
    I don’t know how long we have stood and screamed and sang and clapped and cheered and simply felt. The whole bar is an orgy of intermingling emotion and Garret is at the center of it. He plays with the electricity that arcs in between every person, toys with us, makes us beg and plead for the highs and weep with the lows. The tension rises and breaks exactly how he wants it to. We are all at his mercy, none more so than me.
     
    The music peaks, wails, and dies. For one split second, in the silence between songs, Garret looks straight at me. His eyes are a piercing green and they are locked on me without any doubt or hesitation. He winks once, quickly--so quickly that I can’t be sure if it was real—then, with a tiny flick of his fingers, throws something small and red towards me.
     
    The neon triangle soars through the thrumming space between us, slicing a slow arc over the heads of the crowd. I raise a hand unthinkingly and snag it. I look down at the pick. Its corners press into my palm, small divots wrinkling the flesh.
     
    The pick is a piece of him, an extension of his touch and his voice and the charges rippling from his skin. He gave it to me. On either side of me, I see jealous eyes peeing from the crowd. A pair of girls whisper to each other and cast malevolent glares in my direction. Envy is spewing from the pursed corners of their lips.
     
    I stroke the plastic where it is warm from Garret’s touch. He gave it to me! I shriek internally. Me! Of all people! My face is flushed with heat and I open and close my mouth fruitlessly, nothing emerging.
     
    The pick feels alive in my grasp. He could have given it to anyone, I say to myself. But he gave it to me. It feels like I am holding onto him. My chest stirs and murmurs. It vibrates and dances and churns with the music, rising and falling and circling the room.
     
    Garret jumps straight up into the air as the drumbeat crashes out from the speakers and the crunching static of the guitar resumes. I watch his sweaty body flex and move.
     
    The pick anchors me and it plunges me deeper at the same time. I am touching it and so I am touching him and he is touching me too. He is grabbing me through it, caressing me, moving me.
     
    Me. He gave it to me.
     
    ***
     
    I stumble out of the bar afterwards, drunk on every thread of the experience. Sarah pulls me around from person to person to person. We are chatting and laughing with everyone. In comparison to my normal state of fogginess, everything looks sharp and clear and colorful. I am humming along the strings of emotion and I feel linked to every person around me. The strongest connection, though, is to Garret, who had disappeared backstage not long after the show ended. Even when he is out of sight, though, I can feel his presence tugging on me.
     
    A mohawked man in a motorcycle jacket invites us to an after party at a bar downtown. “It’s gonna be sick, man,” he tells Sarah and me. “Are y’all down?”
     
    I blurt out, “Is Garret going to be there?”
     
    The man reads my eager expression and laughs. “Oh, definitely. It’s his party,” he