ENDLESS: A Less Than Zero Rockstar Romance: Book 1: Ty & Zoey

of his rough stubble, he sighed in his sleep and pulled me in even closer. I held him tightly too, resting my head on his lithe but defined chest and gripped his hip, careful not to rouse him. I wished I could gaze into the pools of his deep-blue eyes one more time.
If only I didn’t have to leave him.
I was moving to Bellingham to embark upon my new normal, living with a roommate in a dorm and working toward my college degree in social services. Ty’s band departed for their first tour in a few hours, traveling cross-country in a small van for six months. Letting him sleep was important. It would be grueling enough spending long hours in such cramped quarters without the added weight of heartbreak. The least I could do was let him get some rest now.
So I laid for as long as I could against my love and listened to his heartbeat. My mind was a hamster wheel. Second-guessing. Third-guessing. Then—resolved. I had been asked by possibly the most influential person in his life to do something for Ty. For his future. As much as I didn’t want to, leaving him now was the right thing for me to do. But it didn’t make it any less devastating.
When my tears wet his chest, I knew it was time to go or I’d wake him. My heart seized in agony at the thought of never seeing him again. I wasn’t sure how I’d survive. Yet, I knew that I had to set him completely free, without any ties to me, so he could embrace his shot at fame.
Maybe someday Ty would understand why I left him.
Maybe someday he’d forgive me.

Chapter 1
ZOEY
Five Months Previous
“C’mon!” Alex pleaded with me. “We’re going to be late!”
“I can’t help it if I need extra time, you look amazing in a paper sack,” I whined to my best friend since diaper-hood.
Even though my family had moved from Ballard to a big, renovated craftsman in the Wallingford neighborhood when I was eight, Alex and I spent time together most weekends and nearly every day during the summer. Our neighborhoods were close enough that we retained our sisterly bond, which was so tight we could finish each other’s sentences. Now, with only a few weeks to go until graduation from our respective high schools, all we did was obsess over music and boys, sometimes not in that order.
Which meant on a Saturday night, as per our usual routine, we got ready at my house to go out for the evening.
“You look gorgeous, you always do.” Alex surveyed my outfit, her hands on her hips. Tall and thin with supermodel beauty, my BFF looked fantastic in her simple getup of a black, V-neck fitted T-shirt, baggy boyfriend jeans with a beat-up brown belt holding them up, hoop earrings, a distressed, black motorcycle jacket, and black motorcycle boots. Her blonde hair styled with fringy bangs was effortlessly tussled as though she’d spent hours on it, when really all she did was run her fingers through it a few times.
I sighed, studying my image in the full-length mirror. As a short and slightly voluptuous girl, I tried to accentuate my curvy assets. Tonight, I wore a casual outfit of skinny black jeans with shredded knees, my favorite black, flat, suede knee-high boots, and a vintage Van Halen T-shirt with the sides and back cut out in a crisscross pattern, which gave a glimpse, but not full view, of my D-cup boobs.
“Well, this is as good as it’s going to get.” I shook out my long, thick blonde hair streaked in beachy waves, and turned to check out how my butt looked. I loved my curves, and thanks to the Kardashians normalizing a bit of tits and ass, I could hold my own even if I couldn’t be bothered to paint on a perfect Instagram contour.
“Thank God, the Uber is here.” Alex swooshed out of the room and bounded down the stairs, with me following close behind.
We had been waiting all week for tonight’s show at The Mission, an iconic Seattle all-ages venue, which launched the grunge era over two decades ago. My parents had met there at a Limelight show, so they were surprisingly cool about my acute love of live music. The club, which lacked in charm, still featured an awesome lineup of up-and-coming bands and we loved nothing more than to experience live music up close and personal.
Even better, we were finally going to see Less Than Zero, a throw-back rock band that made actual real music and didn’t rely on auto-tune or fancy production. We’d been obsessed with their YouTube channel and Instagram account because of all their hot pictures and crazy video snippets. Their music was amazing, driven by screaming guitar riffs, anthemic lyrics, and groovy beats. It also didn’t hurt that all the guys in the band were tasty, tasty snacks.
“Are you staying over tonight, Alex?” my dad called out as we bounded past him in the living room.
“No, Mr. Pearson.” Alex stopped to address him. “Mom and I have plans early tomorrow morning.”
Alex’s mom and dad were divorced, and she lived with her hilarious mother who had a successful mail-order pie business. If her sense of humor wasn’t reason enough to hang out at her house, we were guinea pigs for her kitchen experiments, which turned out some delicious food. Her dad, a developer who had remarried, lived on Bainbridge Island, a suburb across Puget Sound.
“Alex, how many times do I need to tell you to call me Mike,” Dad chastised good-naturedly. “Are you off to The Mission, then?”
“Yep!” I bopped over to give him a kiss on the forehead. “I’ll be home by midnight.”
“How are you getting home?”
“Jeez, Dad. Stop interrogating me like a lawyer. You know I’ll take an Uber.” I rolled my eyes. For God’s sake, I was a dedicated 4.3 GPA student, it was annoying that he didn’t think I could figure out a ride