Real Ugly (Hard Rock Roots #1)

Chapter Twenty-Six: Turner Campbell

My emotions are so fucking raw right now that I can't seem to stay in control of myself. I just keep doing shit without thinking it through. My body is pulsing and vibrating, being plucked by the dirty hands of fate. As soon as I get offstage, I start to pace, running my fingers through my hair and doing my best not to think about Travis's hat. It was a prank. Had to be. None of the guys will admit to it, but obviously somebody's trying to fuck with us. I think of Naomi's foster sister, but have no clue how she'd have even known what type of hat Travis wore. I mean, the cap couldn't have been one of the ones he'd actually worn, but it was the same style – black with a white brim, eagle with outstretched wings on the back. I mean, if it's a coincidence, it's an eerie one.

I brush Milo off, not really in the mood to hear him bitch, and watch as Naomi is outfitted with a backup guitar. She starts the next song off with a shaking voice but quickly pulls up her strength and pushes through the skull of the crowd, bending them to her will, marking that whole place with her power and her voice.

I want her so bad right now that it hurts. Literally. My dick is smashed up inside my pants, grinding against the denim, and my hands are clenched so tight that my knuckles are straining against my skin. I stalk back and forth and wait, keeping my eyes off of her sweaty body.

I confessed my love to her.

I cannot even believe that shit. I blame it on the conversation I had with Ronnie, the shock of finding the baseball cap. She didn't exactly react positively to the news, but then, onstage, she was all the fuck over me.

I grab a white towel and throw it around my neck, using the end to wipe the sweat from my forehead and end up stealing a beer from one of the roadies, finishing it in one gulp. No wonder I've never bothered to fall in love before. It sucks. Love sucks. It sucks big, fat, hairy fucking dick. My bandmates watch me pace like a tiger in a cage, but everybody keeps their mouths shut tight. Good thing, too, because I'm wound up so tight that anything could set me off.

Testosterone and adrenaline mix in my blood, creating this toxic concoction that has me on edge through Amatory Riot's entire set. It's so bad that I can't even look at them play. All I can do is stand there and close my eyes, let my head fall back and my hands shake. Naomi's voice is crazy fucking good, so much better than Skinny Chick's. I wonder briefly where that bitch is anyway, but figure it isn't all that important.

As soon as Naomi walks offstage, I go after her.

"Don't touch me," she whispers, voice low and gravelly. She's growling at me for fuck's sake, and it's hot. All eyes are on us as we move towards the back door like a storm cloud, bouncing energy off of one another's skin. I'm so hypersensitive right now that I'm having a really, really hard time forming logical thoughts in my brain. I can see every bead of sweat on her skin, her dilated pupils, her taut nipples. "Stay away from me." Naomi pauses with her fingers on the handle of the door, and it's almost like I can hear the entire room taking a breath, holding it, waiting to see what's going to happen between us. "I don't love you."

"You will." Maybe that's the wrong thing to say, but it comes out of my mouth anyway. I'm not used to not getting my way. I might be overcompensating for my shitty childhood, but that's just the way it is. I want, no I need, Naomi to respect me. Somehow, her opinion is the only one that's important right now. But of course she doesn't love me, not yet. "You hate me. I get it. I can wait."

"Goddamn it, Turner!" she shouts, punching the door so hard that her knuckles come back bloody. She turns on me and her eyes are wild, not just wet but soaked, drenched. They don't even look brown now, just orange, bright as the fucking sun. "You're right. I do." She points at me with one of her silver painted fingernails. "You're a cocky, arrogant, self-serving, smug, selfish piece of shit. You don't love me. You just think you do. You're interested in me because you can't have me." She throws her arm out to indicate the rest of the room. "You could have almost any girl here or out there or anywhere, anyone that's single and available and a lot that aren't. You like me because I'm a challenge, but as soon as the challenge is over and you've won, you'll get bored and you'll wander." Naomi sucks in a massive breath and steps close to me, brushing the toes of my shoes with hers. "To love something or someone, you have to be willing to give up everything else you care about to make things right for them, even if the decision is hard or it sucks or it makes you so miserable you want to tear your teeth out of your fucking skull." She looks me straight in the eye and holds me there with that piercing gaze. "You're not there yet, Turner. You're just not, and that's pretty obvious, even to me, and I'm no fucking expert." Naomi touches her fingers to the bleeding heart tattoo on her chest. "Life is real, and it's ugly, and it hurts. I've only ever loved three things in my life, and none of them worked out for me."