Damaged But Not Broken (New Adult Rockers) by W.H. Vega Page A

thing. For the one-millionth time, I tell myself to get a grip.
    I knew Blake was engaged to
be married; I knew he had a fiancé.
    What I didn’t know was that his
fiancé was such a bitch.
    Bitch.
    I hate that word, and yet it's the
only word to describe Savannah.
    I had expected some beautiful
southern belle, someone deserving of Blake’s love and affection, and instead I
met a stuck-up, cunty, Nashville rich girl, whose sharpened claws were at the
ready.
    It was obvious Savannah didn’t like
me and that doesn’t bother me one bit.
    Feeling this way is so strange
because I've never found myself in this situation before. When you avoid people
like I do, you don’t find yourself in many awkward social situations, and I had
never really felt such jealousy over a guy before.
    I rest my head against the slightly
cool window and sigh.
    “Honey, what’s wrong?” my dad asks,
finally picking up on my mood.
    “Nothing, Daddy. Just tired.”
    The last thing I want to do is
rehash my uncomfortable conversation with Blake and the bizarre meeting of his
fiancé.
    “You were great tonight, Paige. You
sang your heart out, no wonder you're tired. Everyone loved you and if you’re
up for it, I think I’ll have no problem booking you a few gigs a week.”
    This news should thrill me –
everything was finally starting to happen in Nashville, but instead all I can
do is think about Blake running his hand through his hair, admitting that it's
killing him to be near me because of our mutual attraction.
    “That’s great, Daddy. Really. Sorry
I’m not more excited. I just need to get some rest.”
    “Of course you do. You rest up this
weekend and take it nice and easy. We’ll talk business on Monday.”
    At least my dad has the decency to
give me the weekend to myself so I can mope around like those girls in the
movies, eating ice cream and staying in my pajamas all day.
    We arrive home, and I say goodnight
to my father before heading down the hallway to my part of the house. I set my
guitar down, kick off my clothes and pull on an oversized t-shirt. I quickly
wash my face and brush my teeth.
    Sometimes I like to read at night
but I’m just too beat and emotionally drained tonight.
    Just as I’m climbing into bed and
getting ready to turn the light off on my nightstand, I hear a light tapping on
the French doors that lead out to the pool and patio.
    Fear grips me, and I feel the hairs
on the back of my neck stand up. My heart begins to pound and I can’t move.
    I hear the tapping again, and this
time it’s louder. Wildly, I look around my room and grab my phone because I
can’t think of anything else. I tip toe to the doors, and slowly slide the small
lever that opens the blinds inside the door. I can barely breathe and all I can
picture is Riff or Billy’s face, even though I know that’s impossible since
they are both still in jail.
    I nearly fall to the floor in
relief when I see Blake standing outside my door, still dressed in the same
clothes he was wearing earlier. Once I realize it’s not an intruder, I feel a
flare of anger at Blake showing up unannounced.
    I undo the three locks, two of
which my father had installed at my insistence when I arrived, and throw the
door open.
    “What the hell are you doing here?”
I hiss.
    Blake at least manages to look
embarrassed.
    “Can I please come in?”
    I want to strangle him, but instead
I move aside silently so he can enter.
    He rakes his hand through his hair,
a sign of his internal turmoil. He really looks at me for the first time, and
his eyes widen as they travel higher and higher up my legs.
    Self-consciously I realize that the
shirt barely covers my ass, and if I move just a bit, Blake might get a full
view of my hot pink panties.
    “What?” I ask defensively, “I was
going to bed!”
    Blake nods, swallowing hard.
    “Let me ask you again, Blake. What
the hell are you doing here? What are we, fifteen again? You’re sneaking over
to my dad’s house late at