Controlled Chaos (Love & Lyrics #1)

by Nikki Ash

“So you’re really going to let it happen, huh?” Declan asks, taking a sip of his beer. “You’re going to let her go off to college with that asshole without telling her how you feel?” I flip the hood of my jacket up and tug on the strings, tightening it to cover my head. “She’s in love,” I say dryly, then take a swig of my beer, chugging it down in the hopes of getting drunk enough to believe the words I’m spewing. “I missed my chance, and I’m not about to be that guy.” Draining the last of my beer, I drop the empty bottle onto the table and stand so I can grab another one.

“For the past three years, every time that girl looks at you, it’s as if you both are the only two people in the room.” I love my best friend, but the guy is such a fucking hopeless romantic, which is ironic since his parents are the least loving people I’ve ever met in my life. “Then why is she with him?”

Braxton says. Using the neck of his guitar

Gage says, walking over to the drums and having a seat.

Declan agrees, picking up his bass guitar

Most kids my age don’t give a shit what their parents think, but most kids’ parents aren’t Easton Blackwood, president of Blackwood Records.

I already miss my home.” She sighs, and a fresh set of tears well up in her eyes. “I don’t really feel like documenting anything right now.” “What do you feel like doing?” “Honestly, I just feel like wallowing,” she says with a watery laugh. “Wallowing?” I repeat. I know the word, but you usually don’t hear teenagers saying it. “It’s what my mom says I do when I’m upset.” She looks out at the road in front of us. “I just want to sit here and wallow.” “Here.” I pull one earbud out and hand it to her. “I have the perfect wallowing music.”

“You have quite the playlist,” she points out, her smile remaining. “I love music.” I shrug. “All of it.” “Even country?” “Country, pop, rap, rock… If the lyrics say something worth hearing, I’ll listen.”

“And this is my little sister, Bailey. She’s a freshman.” “His much cooler sister,” Bailey adds with a side-eye.

Even though my dad is a famous musician, and my family is hella rich, we’ve gone to a public school our entire lives. My parents want us to stay humble, and that’s fine by me. Had I been forced to attend private school, I never would’ve met my boys.

When I give her a questioning look, she simply shrugs and says, “Don’t want to be the weird new girl with a camera around her neck.” I nudge her hip lightly. “There’s nothing weird about you, Shutterbug.” She smiles at the nickname. It’s not original by any means, but it fits her.

Kaylee and Tori walk in. They’re cool chicks, so I nod for them to come over and introduce them to Layla. The girls hit it off right away

“She’s hot as hell,” Gage says, sitting next to me and dropping his tray of shitty food on the table. “Fuck yeah, she is,” Declan agrees, sitting next to Braxton and across from me. “But not as hot as your sister.” I look up and glare at him. “Don’t talk about my sister.” I point my finger at him. Fucking dick has been obsessed with my older sister, Kendall, since he met her. She’s seven years older than us and doesn’t even know he exists. “And she’s off-limits.” “No shit. She’s dating that actor…” “Not her… though she’s definitely off-limits as well, even if she wasn’t dating that dumbass. I’m talking about Layla. She’s off-limits.” Braxton’s brows hit his forehead. “You laying claim on her?” “She has a boyfriend back in Michigan. But even if she didn’t, it’s not happening.” There’s no way I’m letting my asshole friends anywhere near her. They would use her up and spit her out just like they do the rest of the girls at this school.

“Aw, that’s cute,” Layla coos. “I have one too. I keep it under my bed…” She scrunches her face up in an adorable way, making her twin dimples pop out. “But I probably shouldn’t have said that out loud, huh?” “Good to know,” Braxton says, “in case I’m ever in your room.” He shoots her a wink, and I kick him in the shin, making him groan in pain. “This isn’t a journal like that. It’s where I jot down my ideas for songs.” “You write songs?” Her voice perks up, and she moves closer to sneak a peek.

Layla only texts me SOS when it’s an emergency—it’s our thing. When one of us needs the other to bail us out, or when we’re having a bad day and need to talk, we text SOS.

I’ve learned over the past year from getting to know Layla that when she gives you her heart, she’s all in. She’s loyal to a fault and probably the most forgiving person I’ve ever met. She’s also the best person I know.

“More specifically, the single life.” Her hands land on her hips, and she nods once quickly for emphasis. “I’ve spent the past two years locked down by a boy who didn’t deserve me. I spent too many hours giving him my time when I should’ve been focusing on me. So this year is all about me. And to start it off, guess what I’m doing?” Her eyes light up in excitement while my heart deflates. When I don’t answer quick enough, Braxton does for me. “What’re you doing?” “I’m trying out for cheerleading!” Kaylee and Tori cheer—since they’re both on the squad and have been begging Layla to join—at the same time the guys snort out a laugh. “This is going to be so much fun!” Kaylee squeals, running over to Layla and hugging her. “Guys are overrated. I say we make this year about girl power!” “I’m in!” Tori agrees. So much for telling her how I feel.

But when Braxton and I sat down in the sixth grade and decided to start a band, I knew I wanted my lyrics to be less heavy and a bit more soulful. Braxton agreed. And when we met Declan—who is a hopeless romantic—and a year later, Gage—who didn’t give a fuck what we sang as long as he could beat the shit out of the drums—they were both on board with the vibe we wanted to create.

This year is going to be my year. I can feel it. Braxton mentioned he and Kaylee started dating this summer, and so did Gage and Tori.

About thirty minutes later, everyone piles into my studio. Declan is the first to enter, and he’s alone, followed by Braxton, who has his arm around Kaylee, Gage, who’s holding hands with Tori, and Layla, who’s… What in the actual fuck? She’s holding hands with some asshole I’ve never seen before.

Declan: Not good. Kaylee cheated on Brax, and I can’t find him.

Gage found Tori dead. Find Brax and get to my house ASAP. He needs us.

A link comes through, and I click on it, waiting for it to open so I can see what the next blow tonight will be. When it loads, I find a picture of Layla and David with smiling faces, but that’s not what has my attention. Because also in the picture is her hand, with a diamond ring on her left finger. The caption reads: He asked, and I said yes! And just like that, my entire world is blown apart.

mentally roll my eyes at his sexist remark, not bothering to comment on it. We’ve had this argument too many times lately. With my passion for videography, Felix has grown up watching various music videos, and along the way, he found his love of dance—and for his age, he’s actually really freaking good. When I mentioned him taking dance lessons, David nearly flipped his shit and refused to allow it. Since then, I’ve made it a point not to have Felix dance when David is around. That way, he can’t make Felix feel bad about it.

“Well, you don’t really have a say,” he snaps. “My job pays the bills, so I decide where we live, and New York is not where I want to live.” And here we go again… “And I’d gladly work, but you keep giving me shit about it.” “Because you belong at home taking care of our son. How about being a little more appreciative that you’re able to be home? My mom’s been home since I was born, and she appreciates it. Stop acting spoiled.”

My best friend. Well, my ex-best friend. We haven’t spoken in years, not since that night when everything changed. When Tori took her life, Kaylee cheated on Braxton, and David asked me to marry him. Braxton and Kaylee broke up. We buried Tori. And then the guys left for LA, never looking back. None of us even bothered to walk across the stage—our diplomas were mailed to us.

Before he walks out, he turns back to me, eyeing me one last time. “Do you think that dress is appropriate for a mom to wear?” My jaw drops—literally drops. “You just said I looked beautiful.” “And you do. When you’re at home or with your husband. I’m just not sure about the kind of message it will send if you’re wearing it to a concert, surrounded by drunken men.” “It’s a charity event, and I don’t care if I show up naked. Nothing I wear should send any message to any man, drunk or not. Have a great night at work,” I sneer, turning my back on him, done with this asinine conversation.

Camden thanks everyone for being here, and once the crowd has calmed a bit, he explains that them being here is helping a cause close to their heart. My chest tightens at his words as he speaks about it, though he doesn’t specifically say Tori’s name. It’s been years since I’ve allowed myself to think about her. What happened was so tragic, and it was hard to deal with as a teenager. The night she died, everything changed for all of us. We were young and heartbroken, and we just didn’t know how to handle adult shit. Hell, five years later, I might be older, but I still don’t think I would be able to handle the seriousness of what went down. Gage starts the song by counting off on his drums, and I press record, focusing on him. His face is stoic, but I know him well enough to know he was affected by Camden's speech and is hiding his emotions. He looks darker and edgier than he did the last time I saw him five years ago. He’s never been carefree, not with everything he’s been through in his life, but before, he still had a lightness to him. Now, it’s as if it’s been snuffed out. Declan joins in with the bass a few seconds later, smirking playfully at the crowd. Like Camden and Gage, he’s now less boy and more man. Braxton adds his guitar, his eyes meeting Declan’s for a moment before he gives the crowd his attention. He smirks as well, but it’s more devilish. While the band has been good at keeping themselves away from any negative publicity, Braxton’s been caught quite a fe...

Camden’s shirt comes off at some point, and sweat glistens on his skin. He chucks it to the side, making fans freak out over who’s going to snag it. I’ve seen plenty of pictures of him shirtless, but none of them compare to seeing him in person. He’s all man, rippled and hard everywhere, yet still so damn beautiful.

“I think… I drank too much,” I groan to myself. “No shit,” Kaylee says, making me jump up and screech. I push up onto my elbows and glance around, noting that I’m lying in bed with Kaylee, and it’s not my bed. “Where am I?” “My place.” She quirks a brow. “Don’t you remember?” I drop back down and grab a pillow to cover my face, willing the throbbing in my head to go away while I try to recall last night. I remember the charity concert, Camden singing the love, er, heartbreak song about me, getting drunk at the bar, going to a tattoo shop… “Oh, shit!” I pop back up, and the room swirls around me. It takes a second for everything to become clear, and once it does, I jump out of bed and run into the en suite bathroom, tugging the sleeve of my shirt down as I go to expose my collarbone. “I got a tattoo?” I gasp. “Oh, my God! I got a freaking tattoo.”

“I’m married,” I argue, refusing to acknowledge that what she’s saying might be true. Not that it matters because the fact is, I am married, and while Camden and I used to be best friends, we’re not even acquaintances anymore. “I love my husband.” But as I say those words, a sadness creeps into my chest. Because while it’s true, I do love David—he’s the father of my son, and I’ve given him every part of me for the past six years—if I’m honest with myself, I don’t think I’ve been in love with him for quite some time. I keep holding out hope that he’s going to change, that we’re going to fix the broken in our marriage so we don’t have to tear our family apart, but the truth is, I’m not sure if that’s possible.

I imagined seeing Camden again one day, but I never thought our reunion would go like this. Like he didn’t just up and leave, and we didn’t spend five years apart without saying a single word to each other. Like he didn’t become a huge rock star, and I didn’t go to college, get pregnant, and then get married.

“Thank fuck this tour is over. I need a few months without walking in on you fucking your way across the globe.” I shove Gage awake. “And you need to lay off the drugs.”

I’m so proud of you. Of whom you’ve become. But that song… it made me sad for you. I remember when your parents got together. Your mom found out she was pregnant with you, and she was so scared but strong. She had a wall built thirty feet high, but your dad busted it down piece by piece. And once he did… well, their love was a beautiful sight to behold.” She takes her hand in mine and gently squeezes. “That boy… David… he hurt her, and I imagine her wall will be really high, but I have no doubt you’ll be able to knock it down.” She winks playfully. “And once you do, I bet your love will be just as beautiful.”

Layla squeezes my hand. “She is. I can’t say I completely understand because my dad and I were never that close. He worked far too much and wasn’t around enough. But it still hurt when he died. Every morning on his way into the office, he would call me to say hi. The first day he didn’t call, it was hard. My heart hurt, and I cried. The next day, though, I was ready for the heartbreak. Each day got easier, my heart healing more and more. It still hurts, and I miss him, but it’s bearable now.” She looks at me, her brown eyes shining. “It won’t be today or tomorrow or the next day, but eventually, your heart will heal.” When she squeezes my hand again, I look down at our hands, remembering the last conversation Nanna and I had. I’ve never been the type of person to believe in fate. But right now, while I would give anything to have Nanna back, I’m wondering if maybe, as her last gift to me, she brought Layla and me together. Because had she not passed away, I’d still be across the country instead of sitting right here holding hands with the only woman I’ve ever loved. “I think you’re right,” I tell Layla. “I think my heart will eventually heal.”

“My life, my priorities, doesn’t meld with that of a rock star’s.” She looks at me, and I feel the double meaning in her words: our lives, even though she knows I’m here for her, knows I’m in love with her, would never work because we’re two different people. She’s a mom, and I’m a musician. Well, fuck that.

“Is that…?” I step closer, taking in the black ink etched into her skin between her collarbone and shoulder. It’s a camera, similar to the one she used to carry with her everywhere she went. Only instead of it being put together, the lens is broken, and pieces of it ascend up and over her shoulder. “Holy shit,” I breathe when I see the single word that’s scribbled across the front of the camera, where the brand name should go. “You got a tattoo of the song I wrote about you.”

“We’ll talk about your tattoo later… when we’re alone. What I want to discuss right now is the job offer.” Her eyes go wide, confused as to why I’m changing the subject. What she doesn’t understand is that I plan to have my chance with her, but it won’t be until she’s ready—and based on that tattoo, it’s clear she has some kind of feelings for me—but her lame excuse of being drunk tells me she’s not ready to pursue those feelings yet. So I’ll wait until she’s ready. Because I’m a patient guy. “The job pays six figures and requires light travel. It would start as a ninety-day trial period, and once the ninety days are up, if both sides are happy, we’ll sign a one-year contract.” “Six figures?” she chokes out. “But I have Felix…” “We know you have a son and that he’ll always come first. You don’t think my parents know a thing or two about raising kids while working in the music industry? You’ve got this, Shutterbug, and we all have your back.”

Ever since I heard that song and learned how he felt about me, I can’t stop thinking about him. I was always attracted to Camden, but the truth is, I never knew he felt that way about me. He and the other guys always had girls surrounding them. It comes with the territory of making beautiful music. I always assumed he just saw me as the girl with a camera attached to her face, tagging along. But now that I know he wanted more, I can’t help but wonder how different things could’ve been had he told me… until I think about the fact that I wouldn’t have Felix. Then I have to tell myself that everything happens for a reason. While the teenage Camden was sweet and sexy, albeit a little cocky, the older version of Camden is gorgeous, slightly harder, and a hell of a lot more confident. He left for LA trying to find his place in this chaotic world and found it in his music.

“Nice. Now, what time are we leaving, Pretty Boy?” Declan asks, calling Camden by his nickname the guys dubbed him years ago because he doesn’t look like your typical rocker. He’s, well, pretty. With gorgeous emerald eyes, soft, wavy hair, a natural tan that women would kill for, and a face that looks way too innocent and sweet to be singing the crude words he sings on a nightly basis, Camden is the face of Raging Chaos. He’s also, without a doubt, the prettiest of the four guys, who are in contrast rough and dark and exactly what you’d imagine a bad boy rock star to look like—covered in tattoos with piercings in various places. Camden, on the other hand, has no tattoos or piercings… as far as I know.

When I stepped out of Bailey’s room, dressed in one of her strapless mini dresses, I could feel Camden’s heated stare. My tattoo was on full display, and if the way his eyes seared into me was anything to go by, he was thinking about when he saw it peeking out from under my towel the other day—when I lied and told him it was a drunken mistake.

“When we spoke in the hospital, she mentioned you got divorced,” he admits. “We were supposed to come up with a plan of attack.” “For what?” “To break down your wall and get you to fall in love with me.” Holy shit… He’s not holding back at all. “Why didn’t you ever tell me how you felt?” “Isn’t that the million-dollar question…?” He rests one hand against the wall next to my head, and the other goes back to my face, dusting several strands of sweaty hair out of my eyes. “It never felt like the right time. You were either taken or on an anti-boyfriend kick.” He playfully rolls his eyes, making me laugh. “And then, before you were about to leave for college, I was going to. I was gonna throw it all on the table… And then all that shit went down at the party, and you posted that David proposed, and I… fuck, I just felt like maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Gage and Brax needed me, so I left.” “Without even saying goodbye.” “It was too damn hard. You needed to focus on your future, and I needed to be with my band.”

“This is my second chance,” he says, shocking me. “I let you go once, but I can’t do it again without telling you how I feel. I’m in love with you.

“You don’t need to know anything right now except that I’ll be waiting for you to be ready, and once you are, I want my chance with you.”

“I’m Camden Rocco Blackwood, lead singer of Raging Chaos. It’s nice to meet you.” I snort out a laugh at his introduction and accept his hand. “I’m Layla Isabella Kessler. Can I have your autograph?” I flip my hair playfully, making him laugh. “Oh, Shutterbug, you can have way more than that.” “Oh, yeah?” I play along. “Like what?” “Me,” he says, using my hand to tug me toward him. “You can have me.”

And if I couldn’t keep them satisfied and only wanting me, how the hell would I ever keep a man like Camden satisfied? He’s a rock star, for God’s sake. He has beautiful women throwing themselves at him every damn day. What do I possibly have to offer him that he can’t get from all those other women?”

“If I had you, I know I’d never look outside. Them fucking blinds would stay closed.” He smirks, and I find myself laughing. “You’re beautiful and smart and sexy as fuck, and if I’m ever lucky enough to get you inside my four walls, I will prove to you every damn day that you’re all I see… all I want. That there’s nothing worth looking outside for.

After bringing the food in, Layla and I spend the next couple of hours chowing down and watching some Horny Housewives in England show. That’s not what it’s called, but the show is about some British folks who spend their days trying to hook up with each other.

I edge down and lay my head on his chest, wrapping my arms around him. “I hope one day Brax and Gage find the real because the fake really sucks.”