Never fall in love with.., p.1
Never Fall in Love with a Rockstar, page 1
Never Fall in Love with a Rockstar
Rachel Higginson
Contents
Also by Rachel Higginson
Follow Rachel
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Afterword
Untitled
Acknowledgments
About the Author
The Opposite of You
Copyright@ Rachel Higginson 2019
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This publication is protected under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state and local laws, and all rights are reserved, including resale rights: you are not allowed to give, copy, scan, distribute or sell this book to anyone else.
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Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if we use one of these terms.
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Any people or places are strictly fictional and not based on anything else, fictional or non-fictional.
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This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
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Copy Editing by Amy Donnelly of Alchemy and Words
Cover Design by Caedus Design Co.
Created with Vellum
Also by Rachel Higginson
The Five Stages of Falling in Love
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Every Wrong Reason
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Trailer Park Heart
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Bet on Us (Bet on Love Series)
Bet on Me (Bet on Love Series)
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Constant (The Confidence Game Duet)
Consequence (The Confidence Game Duet)
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The Opposite of You (Opposites Attract Series)
The Difference Between Us (Opposites Attract Series)
The Problem with Him (Opposites Attract Series)
The Something About Her (Opposites Attract Series)
Follow Rachel
Keep up with Rachel on her Newsletter
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Connect with Rachel on her Facebook Page
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To Jenni,
I know this isn’t an audiobook,
I hope you still like it.
Or at least the cover
Since you’ll never read it.
1
My fingers flew over the keys. Up and down. Black and white. Sharp and natural and sharp, sharp, sharp. The damper pedal lifted with my momentum. I pressed down again, elongating the notes, pulling the best of the melody out of the song and letting it hang in the air, notes dancing and twirling and singing the emotional symphony. Beethoven had never sounded so good.
I took a breath, closing my eyes at the final, heart-stopping crescendo, and then, I lifted my fingers and let the song resonate through the vaulted ceilings in perfect harmony.
When the notes died and the song drifted from the building, I couldn’t help but wait for applause. Receiving adulation was ingrained in my nature. My entire life I’d played to crowds much bigger than this one. And so, I sat there, my breath trapped in my chest, my eyes closed in anticipation and… nothing.
There was no eruption of cheering and wild clapping. There was no demand for an encore. There was no stadium filled with rabid fans, blissed out after the best show of their lives.
There was only one person clapping for this performance and it was Maya from the MAC makeup counter. And she only did it because she knew it made me happy. I grinned at her from over my shoulder. She clapped louder, jumping up and down in a pure attempt at feeding my ego. A cluster of teenage girls moved between us, laughing and chatting, eyes glued on all the pretty things around them. I turned away, ducking my head and focusing on the gorgeous grand piano that filled the center of the glistening lobby.
Nobody recognized me these days, but better safe than sorry.
When the shoppers had moved on, I gathered my music and slipped it inside a folder. Maya was still slow clapping by the time I reached the counter littered with lipstick tubes.
“Woman, you were on fire today,” she cheered. “I was seriously moved by that last piece. Tears, Clover. Actual tears.” She pointed at the corner of her eye where her electric blue eyeliner was smudged.
“Moonlight Sonata.” I took a steadying breath, banishing the lingering emotions that clung to the edges of me. It was one of my favorites too. And I rarely played it. But today I’d been in the mood for melancholy and memories. And that song, above all others, despite what the tabloids and bloggers said once upon a time, weighed the heaviest from my past. “It’s a good one.”
She leaned forward on her elbows. “You’re stupid good, you know that?”
I tilted my head, letting my long, fiery red curls fall over my shoulder and partially hide my face. “What you really mean is I’m good for Macy’s standards, right?” I looked behind me as Walter arrived and started to setup for his three-hour block of play. Macy’s hired us for elegant entertainment. We were the background music for the evening and weekend shoppers at the high-end department store. There was a rotating total of six pianists and each of us were happy for the work. It was a relatively easy way to make a hundred bucks.
This was all part of my new normal. Trying to live and eat and sleep off the grind of regular employment.
Once upon a time, I used my piano-playing skills to make lots and lots of money. Not that I put in less hours. But it seemed easier to make money as a headline band dropping platinum albums.
It seemed easier, I realized. But it hadn’t been.
I breathed deeply of this normal life I lived now and smiled at the simplicity of it. Sorrow and heartache tugged at the corners of my thoughts, desperate to get my attention and claim some space in this adjusted life of mine, but I refused to give them room.
They were banished, along with everything else that used to be.
“Girl, I mean you’re good period. Stop playin’.”
“Well, you’re really sweet. Thank you.”
She winked at me. “You’re welcome.”
“What is all this?” I asked, picking up a random tube of lipstick and turning it over. Russian Red. “Wow, this is aggressive.”
“Restocking,” she sighed. “It’s a pain in the ass. But also, better than giving tweens makeovers all day.”
“What about former tweens? Do you have time for one of those?”
She laughed her deep, throaty laugh that always made me smile. Maya and I had gotten to know each other slowly over the last few years, after I’d first started playing at Macy’s. She’d been one of my most favorite parts of slowing down and finding normal.
She was a real friend. And a real person. There was nothing shallow about her actually. She jumped right into deep friendship and demanded raw honesty. There were still parts of my life I kept a secret from her, but that wasn’t because I didn’t want to tell her the whole sordid history of how I’d ended up in Kansas City, Missouri. It was for her safety. And mine. And to honor all those pesky nondisclosures I’d signed.
Her big brown eyes widened. “Oh, my gosh, is tonight the night? The big night?”
I nibbled my bottom lip and nodded. “Yes.” My stomach flipped with anticipation for the surprise that waited for me just hours from now.
She leaned forward, bouncing on her toes with shared excitement. “What do you think it is? Oh, my gosh, what if he proposes?”
I lifted a shoulder and felt my stomach drop to my toes. Equal parts dread and hope spiraled through me, chasing each other, racing to see which emotion would win. “I have no idea what it is. He’s so excited though. He can barely contain himself. Yesterday, he had outfits spread out on his bed like he was deciding which one to wear.”
“Clover! This is it.”
I shrugged again. “It could honestly be anything, but a proposal, Maya? For real, that would be crazy.”
“Would you say yes?”
I took too long to think about my answer. Maya wanted an easy, breezy yes. She wanted to know that my relationship with Adam Shepherd was a whirlwind romance that had totally and completely swept me off my feet. She wanted a real-life romantic comedy and epic love story wrapped in one. She wanted me to be happy. And it was so sweet of her. But it was also unrealistic.
I’d already had all of that. And it had ended in the worst kind of tragedy.
Her question was supposed to have an easy answer. Even if I wasn’t ready for the proposal now, I was suppo
Meet a normal guy. Fall in love with a normal guy. Marry a normal guy. Live a very normal happily ever after.
Every girl’s dream. Except mine.
“We’ve only been dating for six months,” I told her, laughing, playing it off, shining light on her absolutely ridiculous idea. “He hasn’t even told me he loves me yet.” A sick feeling rolled through my stomach, my body wholly rejecting the idea of saying those words to anyone.
She blinked, her fake lashes fanning over high cheek bones. “Oh.” Maya was a romantic to her bones. She wanted everyone to fall in love. If a man so much as knelt to tie his shoe in front of the makeup counter, she assumed it was some elaborate proposal stunt. “Well, maybe tonight’s the night for I love yous!”
My heart thrummed with the idea, bossing my nerves back in line. This was an easier question to answer, although she hadn’t asked it. Would I tell Adam I loved him if he said the words first? Yes. Yes, I would.
At least, I hoped I would.
Sometimes my mouth had a mind of its own.
I batted my lashes at her. “Better make me look pretty just in case.”
She grinned and grabbed Russian Red. “The good news is, if he doesn’t love you yet, he will after I’m done with you!”
I dropped my messenger bag full of sheet music at my feet and jumped up onto one of the high back stools, waiting patiently for Maya to make me gorgeous. The woman was a magician when it came to makeup. Seriously, she could make anyone look beautiful.
Not that she had to try very hard on herself. She was truly one of the most stunning women I had ever seen. Her dark skin was absolute perfection. Her wild afro so perfectly fitting with her larger than life personality. And her curves the kind that every woman wanted, dreamed of, spent hours in the gym to get. On her? They were just natural. She was one of MAC’s bestsellers consistently because everybody wanted to look like her.
Hell, most women wanted to be her.
Also, because she could transform anyone from blah to banging with a few mystical strokes of her brushes.
Thirty minutes later, I barely recognized myself in the small, circle mirror on the counter. She’d given me smoky eyes and highlighted cheekbones and dang if that Russian Red didn’t look amazing on my lips next to my natural red hair.
“No way,” I whispered as she grinned over my shoulder. She’d highlight the dusting of freckles over my nose and under my eyes and given me perfectly porcelain skin that seemed to have no blemishes. Although, I knew that was a lie. I looked better than I ever had.
Even when I’d had an actual makeup team.
“You’re going home with this lipstick,” she ordered. “You need to own it and treasure it and wear it every damn day.”
“It makes my hair look so red,” I groaned. My hair and I had been at odds since I could remember. There was a time I did anything to hide my crimson curls. I straightened, tied it back and hid it under stocking caps and finally, when the PR team got involved, I colored it in crazy vibrant colors like neon pink or bold purple. I loved the fun tones, even if I looked like a Barbie.
But I’d given all that up five years ago and went back to my natural shade. The curls were easier than trying to straighten this mess every day. And eventually my new hair stylist had found the perfect red to match my roots. I didn’t even get it dyed anymore. This was just me. Clover Callaway, completely natural. Completely ordinary. Completely anonymous.
Nobody expected the red curls. They were my new signature. And I was slowly learning to love them.
Just like I was slowly learning to love this life.
“You’re welcome,” Maya repeated, laughing. “Tell you what, if I had your hair, I would rock the shit out of it.”
Now that I believed. “M, if I had your hair, I would never worry about my hair again.”
She bugged her eyes out at me. “You think this is easy? You have no idea how long this takes me every day.”
“Same,” I sighed.
Shaking her head, she murmured, “I guess the grass isn’t always greener.”
“Isn’t that the truth.”
An older woman and a thirty-something, younger version of her stepped up to the counter, pointing out eye shadows. “That’s my cue,” Maya whispered, totaling up the lipstick with her employee discount.
I gave her my credit card. Honestly, whenever she picked out makeup for me, I blindly handed over all my money. Maya knew best. “Thanks for this.”
She grinned at me. “Good luck! I want all the details tomorrow.”
To be honest, I wasn’t expecting anything as grand as I love yous. Adam and I had met at one of my other jobs—local photographer. He had been a groomsman in a wedding I helped shoot. We’d hit it off when he’d gotten socked in the face with a wayward basketball.
The groomsmen and groom, while waiting for the bride and her attendants to get ready, had been messing around in the church’s gym. My photographer partner and best friend extraordinaire, River, and I had been shooting fun photos of the pickup game in their tuxes when Adam had gotten distracted and taken a ball to the face. Blood had gushed everywhere, spurting out his quickly swelling nose all over his tux.
His excuse? He’d been staring at me and hadn’t seen it coming. I’d rushed to his aid and helped nurse his poor nose back to semi-normal so he wouldn’t look like a cartoon for the wedding pictures.
He’d asked me out before the night was over and now, we were dating.
Adam was one of those guys that always made things easy. He was laid-back, responsible and very sweet. The last six months had been a surprisingly easy succession of romantic dates and constant butterflies. And tonight, he’d planned something epic for our six-month anniversary.
I had never celebrated relationship anniversaries with anyone before, so my expectations were low. But I was also ridiculously excited. It made me feel special. I loved the idea of cherishing small milestones with the simmering anticipation for more to come.
And it just fit Adam in every way. Of course, he would make a sweet thing out of our six-month. Of course, he would make me feel prized. Of course, he would make this about us. And not about himself.
I left Macy’s in my cool blue Mini Cooper, my favorite of all the cars in all the world and drove directly to his house. We lived across town from each other, so I didn’t have time to go all the way home after my shift before I was expected at Adam’s house in Kansas City suburbia.
He was twenty-nine with a stable job as an IT guy at a tech company. Which seemed redundant to me. But he assured me even tech companies have tech problems.
His house was bigger than what he needed as a single guy. Basically, it seemed like a twenty-bedroom mansion that required a butler, a chef and a gardener.
When he’d first moved in, he’d shared it with three roommates. They’d all gotten married in the meantime and moved out, so over the last two years he’d been slowly remodeling and updating. Making it his.
I didn’t know why I found that attractive, but I did. It showed how stable he was. How reliable. How… invested he was in his life.
And for those reasons, I loved his house. Even if it was too big for him. It was this symbol of responsible adulthood and trustworthiness.
His house was a two story with the master bedroom on the main floor and three bedrooms and an adorable terrace that looked out over his sprawling backyard. He’d let me plant a flower garden on the terrace last spring complete with pallet planters he’d built for me and hanging pots. It had become one of my favorite places in KC.
