A big thanks to MeteorOnAMoonlessNight for the beta work on this one!
She's about to come out with a KILLER new fic that's just going to blow your minds :)
Thanks for your kind words!
Chapter 3 — Bella
This can't be happening. This is not how it's supposed to be. I'm supposed to be living at my best friend's father's house, living life, studying, earning my room there by doing chores around the beautiful estate. Instead, I'm sitting in my room trying to find an excuse not to go downstairs for breakfast. I already showered, washed my hair and got dressed in distressed shorts and a T-shirt that make me more mobile for moving our stuff all morning, and I'm running out of things to do. It's only a matter of moments before Alice barges into my room, pulling me off the bed. My best friend isn't a particularly patient person, and she wants to move out of the apartment quicker than we can actually walk.
I'm really grateful that I can stay here, even more grateful that I can live here for free. But there's a catch. I have to share a house with a fucking rockstar. I don't know how I ever missed the fact that Alice's dad is Ed Masen from Chicago Panic. I guess I really should pay less attention to lyrics and more to the men that sing them. I'm bad with faces, even worse with names. Only the songs stick out in my memory like a sore thumb. Why didn't she ever take me to a concert? Why doesn't Alice talk about her dad like he's the genius that he is? Is she ashamed to be his daughter? Is that Jean's fault?
"Ugh," I groan, falling back onto the mattress. The bed is so comfortable I fell asleep right away, waking up in the same spot this morning. This house is heaven. Why does he have to be so fucking gorgeous, though? And why did he look at me like that last night, as if he liked what he saw? As if there was tension between us.
I walk downstairs, phone still on airplane mode because I want to focus, not be glued to social media, not look up Ed Masen and his biography on Wikipedia. The house sounds quiet enough, with the exception of the ever-present music that wafts through a door on the main floor of the house. I wander past it and look at the many photographs on the wall leading to the kitchen. There are a few of Alice as a baby, as a kid, and even one of her at high school graduation. The ones with her dad in them are the eldest, and I can tell Ed lived a whole different life before this one. His skin in the pictures is free of the tattoos that now cover them, hair neatly combed to the side whereas now it's wild and longer. I notice Jean is cropped out of most of them, the green eyes from both Alice and Ed staring back at me like they're standing right here—they're that vibrant.
The other pictures are clearly party pictures. Ed, and his bandmates
Emmett and Jasper, are in various stages of undress, surrounded by bottles, booze, and… breasts. I shake my head, snickering. I wonder what kinds of trouble those guys got into over the years. They might still be in their thirties, but I bet they've partied enough to last them a lifetime. It's funny, now that I look at it, how different Alice is from her father. She's all about wild patterns and colors, pop music, luxury hotels, and spa getaways. I bet it's a far cry from the metalheads, mosh pits, and shredded tank tops I see in these photographs. I wonder if Alice missed growing up with her dad, if she'd have grown into something else, something other than a brand-hogging, materialistic law student. Then again, Alice is pretty wild sometimes, and she's also the life of the party when we go out, so she probably got that from her father.
If only she wasn't clinging to Tyler like it's her lifeline. He's a terrible boyfriend, totally changing her. Alice was like me before she was a thing with Tyler, her Ivy League, polo-shirt-wearing, country-club cardholder of a dickface. I miss the Alice from before, realizing she did take after her reckless father before her mother pressured her into going out with him.
"Yeah, that's epic, dude. We should really use that in the song, it'll work great with the heavy bass we've got for it." It's a voice I don't recognize, but the door where the music came from is closed so I don't think eavesdropping on the conversation going on in there is very polite.
The kitchen is empty, cluttered with car keys and an empty paper bag from Starbucks.
"Ali? You in here?" There's no response, no noise but my own footsteps and the slight whirring of the fridge.
I look at my phone; 10:07. Alice wanted to leave around 9. It's weird that she hasn't barged into my room by now. It's weird she's not here stomping her foot already wearing her jacket, even. When I disable the airplane mode on my phone, I realize I should've done it earlier this morning. There are a few texts from her, missed calls, and another, last text telling me Tyler is picking her up to go grab our stuff from the old apartment. I groan and text her I'm sorry and that I overslept. She gets back to me, telling me they'll be here in the next few hours. Great.
I feel weird looking through the kitchen cabinets, but I do it anyway since my need for coffee overpowers the need to be the perfect houseguest. Just when I find the cups for the coffee maker, the voices get louder, and heavy footsteps make their way to the kitchen as laughter follows.
"Oh, hi." It's a man I've never seen before, big and impressive with dark curls and a tight V-neck encasing a muscled torso. When I look closer, I have seen him before, and I remember his name, too. He's Chicago Panic's drummer.
"Hi, good morning. You must be Emmett," I say. He looks at Ed, who's typing furiously on his phone, looking like heaven and hell in a long sleeve T-shirt that shows off his physique.
"One and only," he replies. He's got a dimpled smile and tons of blackwork tattoos on his exposed, tanned arms. "You must be the friend, right?" He eyes me curiously, gaze gliding over my shorts, over my legs, and back to my shirt. I feel exposed even though I'm fully dressed. "Ed told me about you; hasn't lied, either." Emmett winks.
I feel a blush creep onto my cheeks, and I curse myself for it. He's just being friendly.
"Yeah," Ed chimes in. "Told you she was polite." He mutters something under his breath, and Emmett bites his lip.
"Totally, man. Really fucking polite."
"You doing okay?" Ed asks me. I nod, pointing at the coffee machine.
"Do you guys want coffee?"
"You should keep her," Emmett says, smirking.
"That's Em's 'yes' to coffee, Bell. Don't mind him, he lost his manners on the day he was born."
I laugh.
"So, you want any?" I ask, only hearing the innuendo after Emmett picks up on it first. He holds up his hands as Ed gives him a dirty look, and sits down at the marble kitchen island.
"Sure, I'd love some," Ed replies.
"Hey, you're twenty-one, right?" Emmett asks, opening the fridge and grabbing a carton of milk. I place three cups of coffee in the middle of the island, noticing that Ed drinks his black as I do.
"Yeah," I reply.
He looks at his bandmate, blue eyes dancing with mischief.
"We're having a party for the team here tomorrow night to celebrate the big man over here being done with writing the lyrics for the new album. You should come," Emmett says. I lift my brow, watching Ed roll his eyes.
"I think Bella has better things to do on a Saturday night, Em."
"Well, Bella might want to spend the evening with a group of really interesting individuals such as myself, you know. Let her answer, dude."
Emmett looks at me again, shooting me a dimpled smile, looking me up and down again. It makes me blush furiously, wishing I'd put on heavier foundation so it wouldn't be this noticeable.
"Are you coming onto me?" I ask the giant bluntly.
His reaction makes me laugh, and Ed slaps him on the back.
"See, you're not that subtle, Em."
"Oh baby," Emmett starts. "I'm only into cougars, so you, little cub, don't have anything to worry about." He winks at me and flashes me the wedding ring I missed earlier. Ed starts laughing.
"Christ, Rose is hardly a cougar, Emmett. She's only two fucking years older than you," he says.
"Yeah, well, my lady's forty. She's living with an entirely different number in the front now. Besides, she thinks it's hot she landed a sexy young stud."
"Oh, my god… It's like you love yourself even more than you love her," I remark, laughing. Ed shakes his head, licks his lips. It's clear he likes my comeback when he lifts up his mug and salutes me.
"Fuck, you're a fun one," Emmett shoots at me.
I smile sweetly.
"Rose would love the shit outta you, Balls."
"Balls?"
"It's your name from now on. Deal with it. Party starts at nine tomorrow, be here," he commands.
"Well, I do live here… might as well come take a look."
"Atta girl!" He holds up one large hand, and I high-five the Chicago Panic drummer.