Soundtrack- Ross Copperman, Holding on & Letting go.
(Dedicated to my beautiful Rosha in this chapter)

🌟🌟🌟

*Warning* - Mature Language.
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Rohan's POV

Everybody wants to be a rock star.

It’s the closest thing to being a god, but what people often forget is that God has a hectic job.
God creates. Twenty-four-fucking-seven. Is worshipped.
God is expected to answer, to deliver, to reassure.
And when God is sent to earth to deal with humans? Well, God is bound to disappoint.

I came out with an Album about 3 years ago called 'Guns and Sex' and well, all the songs were very much unappreciative and hated. You could imagine. I truly hate myself for that album, I was wrecked and tired and produced shitty music that time. The wedding break in between was definitely needed, it helped my brain work a bit better after. But I've never wrote a album since, I think putting out awesome singles is more my thing. And people love it, but the hate is always there.

See, when you’re a rock star, your fans feed you expectations.
And you almost always swallow them down greedily and ask for seconds.
Because you want to believe you’re a genius, whose lyrics are immortal, whose tunes run chills down people’s spines. You want to be unforgettable, irresistible, and unique.

You don’t want to believe there’s nothing more after this—because there isn’t, you might be a hotshot millionaire motherfucker with a different model in your bed every night—but at the end of the day, you’re human.
So, terribly human. A human who is expected to be much more than a human. Which was how I’d gotten here. To where I was today. The very laughable cliché I’d taken the piss out of when I was young.

I put on my leather jacket, ready to go down to the restaurant lobby for breakfast. My phone starts vibrating in my back pocket, so I shove my hand to get it out. I don’t even bother, glancing at the caller ID because there’s only one person who has my number, and he’ll be calling me from a burner phone anyway.
My handler, My bestfriend, My Manager… Aman.

“What’s up?” I ask as I connect the call.
“Just checking in,” he says cordially.

“Case has been set for 9th September. Your next single. What's the name of the song?”

9th September, that’s a little over four months away. Hopefully then, I get my life back.

"Why are you so curious? Everyone will know the name, on the launch.” I say as my eyes drift past the back of my gallery to the Ocean that’s as smooth as glass today. Snow falling on the grass at the sideview.

“C'mon mate, stop letting me organise all these singles launch. Just write an album for fuck sake.” Aman said. Poor guy, I haven't even started on the 9th September song. I don't even know what I'm gonna do.

"Sure I'll write an album, how about we call it 'The return of Guns & Sex?" I heard his laughter on the other end of the line before he muttered a quiet 'asshole', probably rolling his eyes at me too.

“You good?” Aman asks, and I know what he’s really asking. My thoughts go to the TV, I thought about the news I was watching earlier. Alexis... motherfucking Alexis, out there, ruining my name. I couldn't even care anymore though. She's someone I just want out of my life. Right now, I'm as ready as I’d ever be if someone came after me.

“I’m locked and loaded,” I assure him, because I do know he worries. My refusal to take a career break did move all my agents, lawyers and managers. They thought I was weak and needed time and peace for whatever that was going on. They really didn't know me. Didn't know that I was fine as fuck. Ready to do whatever.

Aman huffs out a breath. “You know how it goes. Everyone’s saying you need to talk back to Alexis and say something. Or even write some sort of a song relating to her... replying back to her.”

"The fuck you think I'm Taylor Swift to write breakup songs?" I retorted back. Hell was taking over Aman, he was way influenced by everyone out in the media, never listening to his actual client.

"You know I didn't mean it that way, brother." Aman chastises. My frustration boils over, which doesn’t take much nowadays, and I growl back at him. “Give me a few more months, Aman, then I'll  come out of hiding. With great songs. A highlight of a career. Who cares what everyone is saying!"

“Take it easy,” Aman says in his attempt at a soothing voice. “Things don't work like that. There’s a process, and we have to go through it.”

“Don't let her continue it,” I say in a low voice bristling "I wasted one year of my life on her, I don't want to be giving any attention to her."

"It’s out of my hands and you damn well know it,” Aman retorts back, losing patience as well since I’m being a dick. “Besides… you’re in a good place, Rohan. After your leg injury and everything circling the media. You'll be back, you know. So think of this as a much-needed vacation. How about you enjoy a bit? It’s beautiful there, in Paris right?"

Yeah, it’s fucking beautiful all right. Beautiful ocean, beautiful winter weather, and a goddamn beautiful girl who never misses an opportunity to give me a cheery look and a breathtaking smile if we happen to make eye contact at the lobby. I never smile or look back as that would encourage her, and I don’t need any complications in my life.

I certainly don’t need any more of her lies, and awful apologies that had to be tossed. Gave so much to her, only to have her lose my trust. I get what Aisha did. I am an asshole motherfucker who cares about himself only, but it still pisses me off. I'm pissed off at myself, that I'll never be able to trust her again. Unless she owns up. Which I don't even want to know how she'll own up, especially after 2 days ago.
Fucking hell, just thinking about it makes me hard.

Not even God knows what Aisha is upto.

“I’ll check back with you in a few weeks,” Aman says, jarring me out of my thoughts. “Sooner if anything else happens.”

“Yeah, man. Talk to you later.”

After I pocket my phone, I head back around to the front of my door. When I open it, I stop dead in my tracks. She's crossing me. Opposite me. Standing infront of me, her hand in the air like she was about to knock but immediately dropped down after the door opens. Aisha. And fucking hell, good is understatement of what she looks today.

Thank mother of gods she out of that slutty hotel uniform. Not that it bothers me. I love a good girl in short clothes showing bare skin. But with Aisha is different. She hangs out on the reception desk, and of course being who she is, clearly unnotices the fact that every guy eye fucks her whilst walking past. Wishing they had their hands on her.

She's not innocent. She's just too dumb to notice that. And I'm too smart to know that she dosen't care about guys. The only guy she cares about is me.

I'm the one she looks at when I walk past. I'm the one she smiles at. I'm the one who brightens her honey doe eyes with excitement. But as I said, I don't look at her for too long. Cause I know If I do, there won't be any computer or files on the reception desk. It'll be her, naked, with me ontop.

Christ, I need a grip.

Surely a big one after she told me she loves me. Love? Ha. No.
Just no honey. I gave Love too many chances. I fought hard for Love. Now I've given up hope. Even Love has too. Aisha's good, she's needs someone good. And I'm a bastard.

Right now though, This motherfucking gorgeous girl, who, as day by day gets even more beautiful than I was able to discern from a distance. She’s got golden-brown hair that hangs in loose curls till her  shoulders. While she’s dressed sort of primly in a flowered dress of pinks and yellows along with a white cardigan, it’s offset by the fact she’s wearing a pair of beaten-up gray Chucks without any laces.

I get all of that in a cursory glance, because I’m trained to absorb details quickly, and then I turn my back on her as I go back inside the room. I hope she takes that as a hint and goes back to where she came from.

But knowing Aisha, she won't. This girl has fire in her I've never seen in any other girl. As said knowing, she walks right into the room.

Just stop women. Don't bring those lips near me again. She tasted like lemons, fucking fine ass lemons. Lemons aren't sweet. But she was. And a mixture of cherry, which comes from her lip gloss.
Fuck ew? Since when did I starting noticing a girl's lip gloss anyway...

Determined to ignore her, I stalk to where my laptop and instrument cords are and start to take them off the plugs. My shoulders lock tight when I hear her say right behind me, “Hey.”

I grit my teeth for a brief moment before unclenching them to mutter a return, “Hey” without even looking at her.

I hear a scraping sound behind me and immediately look over my shoulder to see her pushing all the cords closer to me, like she was considering to help.

I curse under my breath and practically stomp around the bed to get my bag. As soon as I pick it up, the bag just falls out of hands, I dropped it in frustration, like a bitch.

When I turn around, she’s right there, giving me a big smile that does nothing to diminish the fullness of her lips. “Need some help?”

“I’m good,” I mutter as I pick the bag again and throw it over to the otherside of the bed, where the cords and plugs were.

I start to brush past her, but she steps into my path and I come up short.
“Rohan!,” she says cheerfully, and fuck… she almost emanates goddamn sunshine she’s so perky and radiant. “Actually… I came over to get my basket back from you.”

“Basket?” I ask dumbly.

“Basket,” she affirms with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “The one you got yesterday with homemade muffins. I’m sure you remember.”

She sent those? I thought they were from the hotel staff. But anyways, hell yeah, I remember them. The miniature assault weapons. One bite and I threw them. Fucking disguising as.

“So I’d like to get it back if you don’t mind,” she prods me gently. “And then, I don’t know… maybe you could ask me out to dinner or something?”

My entire body jerks. Smooth. Real smooth Aisha. I blink at her several times, trying to figure out if I just heard what I thought I did. “I’m sorry… what?”

“Well, you know,” she says as she clasps her hands in front of her and looks at me sweetly. “I made you homemade treats yesterday, and I thought you could thank me by taking me out to dinner. Or just coffee would be fine, too.”

“I’m not following,” I say, my mind actually reeling with the thought that she’s essentially asking me out by goading me into asking her out.

Aisha grins at me. “Go ahead, make my day." 
I just blink at her.
“Sudden Impact, 1983” she says as she waits for me to recognize the movie line.

I ignore her attempt to win me over with her personality and cute-as-fuck quote of a very appropriate movie line by moving past her to heading back to the other side of the bed, “Sorry. Not going to take you out to dinner. Or coffee.”

If I thought that would put her off, I was sorely mistaken. She falls into step beside me as I walk there, and Christ… I can smell her perfume. The scent totally fits her. It smells like Paris, fruits… salt air and sweet coconut oil. I don't even know. Whatever it is. It makes me want devour her in so many ways.
Ugh.
Get a grip Rohan.

“Well, I thought you might say that,” she says slyly, and I don’t dare look at her. Instead, I started to bunch up the wires and start plopping it into my bag. She does the same, by helping. “So I’m inviting you to dinner at my place tonight. I’m making a Indian dish. Butter chicken."

“No thanks,” I mutter even as my stomach gives a slight grumble. I haven’t had a decent Indian meal since I’ve come here because I can’t cook worth a fuck and I’ve not really ventured out much.

“Dinner’s at seven,” she says firmly.

I turn to her and glare. “I said… no thanks.”
She beams that smile at me, and I note how white her teeth are and her lips a delicate shade of pink. That cherry lip gloss, I can still feel the taste of her lips from two days ago. Wonder if there's still that lemon taste though,
Fuck… when did I start wondering or even caring about those things?

Aisha steps into me, her smile still wide and dazzling. She leans up on her tiptoes
and whispers, “So it's not gonna be easy. It's going to be really hard; we're gonna have to work at this everyday, but I want to do that because I want you,"

I smirked, my eyes soften a bit.

"The Notebook, 2004."

I burst into laughter. Goddamn it, she’s cute. That makes her seriously dangerous to a man like me.
'I want you.' That sounded good coming out of her mouth.

Taking a step back—for her preservation or mine, I’m not sure—I ask, “What’s up with the movie quotes?”

She shrugs. "I love movies. Some I love so much that I watch them over and over again, so I tend to memorize lines.”

Filmy girl, huh. She's probably seen the notebook 62 times then.

“Well, Sweetheart,” I drawl as I narrow my eyes and give her my fiercest glare. “We have a problem. I’m not coming to dinner. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got a fuck of a lot to do today and I’d like to get back to work.”

“Sure,” she says sweetly with a nod of her head. “But dinner’s at seven. Hope to see you then.”

I growl low in my throat but don’t respond to her. Instead, I toss the plugs into the bag, all of them very quickly and pick the bag to put it back at the corner of the room again. Her footsteps cascade in my ears and I sit on the bed, taking a deep breath when I’m assured she’s gone.

This girl is going to be the end of me.

💫💫💫

A soft knock at my door has me tensing up, and I close the book I’m reading. The prior caretaker had a pretty good collection of classics that he left here, and I’ve been reading them in the evenings, after I return home from my meetings.
Tonight, I’m doing a re-read of 'Call of the Wild' because it was my favorite in high school.

Setting the book down on the cushion beside me, I glance at the clock on the wall that sits adjacent to the fireplace.
Eight-thirty.

Leaning forward, I reach under the couch and grab my Knife, but I don’t make a move from my seat. I listen and wait.
Steady with the knife, I've been attacked by a fan before, it wasn't great. And who knows their might be a seriel killer out there...

After a few minutes, with not another knock sounding, I push off the couch and go to my front door. I always leave the porch light on. As I pull the curtain away, I don’t see anyone.

I unlock the deadbolt and pull the door open, leaning out slightly to look left and right.

No one.

What the fuck, this is like some CSI crime show.

As I start to shut the door, I notice something on the stoop.
A basket, covered with a red-and-white checked linen cloth.
Bending over, I pick it up and flip the cloth back. Inside is a plastic-wrap covered plate filled with what looks like rice and chicken, potatoes, and carrots, on the side.

I turn my head to look if Aisha's somewhere around the area but she's not.
With a sigh, I back into my room. Taking the basket with me, of course. I’m not about to pass up a home-cooked meal, though I can only hope she cooks better than she bakes.

💫💫💫

A day past quickly, and that overly dramatically decorated basket is still sitting ontop of my table, clearly very distracting. I sit on my table to eat, and it's there. I open my laptop to work and it's there. Now where the fuck do I put it?, there's only one table. And fuck, I feel that basket stare into my soul.

Why can't she come here with a cheery ass smile, say a few more movie quotes, collect the basket and go. And why the fuck was I waiting for her? Fuck me. All I now is I'll be leaving to Italy in 2 days. Then back to London. And if she dosen't come and collect it, I'm not taking that shit with me. Nor I'm gonna meet her.

Aisha wants to claim me. I don't.

A knock on the door makes me still. It's 9pm at night. Oh would you look at that. Speak of the devil.
I don't grab the knife, I hurry this time. Putting away my book, I rush towards the door, yanking it open and---

And... oh, whatta dissapointment. Rather much have Aisha then her.

"You..." My face dropped, I glance at her stern face, my eyes searching. No smile, No twinkle in eyes, No long brown curly hair. Well, not mine then. "Ugh.. You." I repeated, frowning.

She crossed her arms over her chest, "Yes well, I'm not so exitced to see you either, asshole!" She spoke.

I smirked, "I remember you. But I think I also forget about you too soon--"

She raised her hand, "Accepted." She said, cutting me off.

"I don't even remember your name," I cringed, leaning down towards her "What was it again? Nina, Lina, Rina?"

She pushed me back with a jerk "Idiot," she muttered "It's Tina!" My lips shaped in a 'o' as I remembered her, she's Aisha's friend also the girl who helped me a long time ago but well, I forgot about that.

"Oh right... right," I stared at her, and fuck off man. Just to look at her I have to raise my head. She's too tall for her own good.

"Listen to me--" She started,

"No thanks," I muttered, trying to close the door but she stepped in the way.

Her set her eyes hard at me, "Aisha's upset," She says.
I let out laugh "Why? Did you not eat her muffins?"

"She's been laying in bed all day, crying."

My laughter died immediately "What is she doing?" I asked. Tina opened her mouth to say something but I cut her off,

"If she's crying because I didn't came to that stupid dinner of hers then tell her to get to life!"

"Rohan," She snapped, "I'm sure it's not that... and god, freaking hear me out first!" Tina ordered, shaking her head at me.

I mean, what worst would be happening to her.

"It's her mom's death anniversary."

I froze, well fuck this is bad.

"Well, what do you want to me to do about that?" That came off as rude, I wasn't intending though. I just talk in a very asshole like tone.

Her face dropped, she gave me look of disbelief "Look," Tina sighed "I have a party to attend--"

I snorted "Really?" Shaking my head, "Great friend you are.."

"Well if you're any better, then go take care of her, make her laugh!" She fumed, throwing her hands in a dramatic way.

"You think I have all the time in the world?" Who does she think I am...

Her eyes drifted past me to room before she looked up at me again "If you have time to read that stupid book then I pretty sure you have the time to meet Aisha and say a few nice things,"

"Nice?" I chuckled. "Yeah, No. I don't do Nice."

"Trust me, everyone knows that--"

"You know what?" I retorted, cutting her off "Just go, I'll give Aisha a call." I attempted to shut the door again, but that girl stepped in my way, again. Bitch.

"No you won't," Her hand digged into her purse, as she pulled out some stuff, I wasn't paying attention to. Tina reached out for my hand, "Address," She plopped down a piece of paper, "and Keys." She said, placing the keys on my hands too.

Oh fuck off, I'm not going to nice talk a girl now.

"Bye." Her fucking hair hit my face as she turned around and walked off.

"Piece of shit." I muttered, looking down at the paper and keys... you won't go Rohan, you won't go, you don't fucking care remember?

I closed my eyes and sighed, running my hand over my hair in frustration... I stepped back and yanked my coat out of the hanger post and walked out the door.

Fuck, Fine. Just one last time. That's it.

💫💫💫

Who knew Rohan Nanda would be standing outside a small door inside a shitty apartment building, trying to comfort a girl.

In, turn, and unlock.

I stepped inside, the door making a creaking sound as I shut it behind. The lights were off, should I turn them on? No leave it.

I walked into her apartment. It was very small. The kitchen was right next to the door and as you go in there was the bed, two single beds on the corner, inbetween were two bedside tables.

I glance at Aisha, she was laying down, her back facing me. Covered in a grey quilt, I could hear her cry. Sob. Sniff.

"Aisha, look at me." I say, bending down to her level, gripping onto the edge of the table.

"What are you doing here?" She cried, her voice so low and soft, almost as if it was a whisper.

"Turn around." I said, ignoring her question.

"Your not gonna order me today," She sniffed, shuffling a bit, "I'm allowed to do whatever I want today."

She was probably right. I wasn't an orphan, but I might aswell be, with parents like mine.

As much as she tried to hold it in, it didn't work, she turned around and I looked at her. The beads of water  falling down one after another, without a sign of stopping.

I felt sorry for her. It looked like her mum had been a decent human being. Just like her.

Not giving her a chance to resist, I leaned closer and immediately wrapped my arms around her body, holding her like breakable china. She wasn't as boney as I'd thought she'd be. In my mind, she felt like hugging a sack of marbles, but when I did, in reality, she was soft everywhere.

It made me tighten my arms around her, so she couldn't slip away. My chin rested ontop of her head, her nose buried in my neck. She cried and I patted her back in smooth up and down motion.

She was warm and silky. Delicious, really. I wanted to take her like a drug. All at once, in one glup. I wanted to overdose on her like cocaine, and crack, and anytype of drug out there. Her voice was down and melted. The muffled sobs wracked against my chest as I held her close.

And I knew. I just knew.
Aisha, like drugs was a temporary fix. I had two days, and once these two days were up, I'll leave her and run back to my dysfunctional-yet loving people, fans and music.

She's one tough cookie.
I'm her prince. Her broken prince.  She'll fight me, hate me and love me, all at once.
I wouldn't blame her.
Hell, I wouldn't even stop her.

Because deep down I knew a bastard like me couldn't keep her.

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END OF CHAPTER

Yay! There you go.
How was it? COMMENT and let me know.

Did you guys like Rohan's POV? Tell me if you want more. I'm not planning on more, but I will, if yous want. It's good to change it sometimes.

Anyways, I'm just SO exitced for everything. If I estimate correctly, we just have 2-3 months till this book ends. I'm aiming for April 💜 but I have so many great things planned, I can't wait to share it. I'm gonna love it. You guys are gonna love it too!

Make sure to smash a VOTE if you want more and can't wait! COMMENT, let me know your thoughts.

I'll be back soon, with a fabulous next chapter. Until then,
Goodbye 💕