Page 13 of Bend
It was dumb and cheesy, and just as much fun as I’d had antagonizing him. It also fucking worked. That afternoon, as the train shuttled down the tracks between here and there, Mars caught me in the tiny hall near the observation deck on my way toward the jam session Derrick had texted me was in progress two cars down.
He pushed me up against the short flight of stairs and kissed me until my head spun with breathlessness, and when I twisted around and hauled myself up the ladder to the glass-roofed deck, he followed. The brightness of the sun streaming through the glass ceiling painted the backs of my eyelids red as he unzipped my pants. Then everything went golden and hazy. When he’d sucked every last drop from me and knelt over me, panting with swollen lips and glassy eyes, I returned the favor.
We passed the next five days with every flavor of sex: slow, sensual encounters that made me feel like I was melting, and rough, bone-grinding, bared-teeth fucks that left us shaking with exhaustion.
Maybe it was the train, maybe it was the atmosphere of the tour—this creative free-for-all of collaboration and whimsy.
Like one long song I never wanted to end.
10
Mars
“That’s a rowdy-ass crowd.” Les, Evan, and I peered into the distance from one of the open-sided cars, balmy air flowing over us as we studied the dark mass at the station.
“They’re calling in extra security, but it’s New Orleans—it’s gonna be crazy anyway.” Les shrugged as I clicked through the messages on my phone, making sure I hadn’t missed any updates.
“Still, I don’t want y’all to even show your faces until everything’s been checked out. Don’t need some sort of mob hysteria happening in this setup.” This was the last stop of the tour, and hands down the biggest. It’d been sold out from the start, and even though we were doing it in the wide-open space of the rail yard, not having the control of a standard venue made me nervous. We’d pulled it off in smaller towns, but this was fucking New Orleans. We were also running behind schedule, so the crowd had already been there a few hours drinking and carousing.
Eli’s crew passed by in a rush and I caught him by the arm, holding him back as he arched a brow with an expectant grin. Even that little bit of perfunctory contact sparked through me, and the matched flame in his eyes told me he felt it, too.
“In a bit of a hurry here,” he chided, but there was humor dancing beneath. He’d said the same thing hours earlier, just before he’d yanked me by the collar into his cabin. Maybe it was my imagination that told me I could still smell myself on him.
“Where’re you filming from?” I loosened my grip on him, letting my thumb drag over his sleeve as I dropped my hand back to my side. Eli followed the movement with his eyes, licking his lips, his answer coming after a beat. “The pit, and I figured we better be first off the train to get in position.”
“Be careful. There’s not enough security yet and—” I glanced out the window again as we crawled closer to the station.
He reached up and gave me a quick squeeze to my bicep. “I know how it goes. Don’t worry. I’m Jack Flash, remember?” He slipped me a wink, and I reminded myself he was a grown-ass man, nodding when he said, “See you on the other side?”
I still didn’t like it, though, and the protective instinct that rose up in me as I watched him disappear down the aisle told me I was gonna have more trouble than anticipated letting him go tomorrow when the tour ended.
We’d be staying in New Orleans overnight, and then everyone was heading their separate ways or staying to enjoy the city for a few more days. I had no idea what I’d be doing tomorrow, but tonight? Well, I’d planned to spend it with him. Hopefully in a hotel bed, though at this point, I really didn’t give a shit if it was a broom closet.
I watched him go, then turned back to Les and Evan, addressing Les’s self-satisfied smirk with a “What?”
“So how is he in bed?”
From the corner of my eye, I could see one side of Evan’s mouth tilt up.
“I have no idea,” I said, and just before Les could protest, added, “We’re rarely in one.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Don’t gloat. It’s not your color.”
“It’s definitely his color, and he wears it all the time.” Evan grinned.
“It’s just sex anyway.”
Neither of them looked like they believed me. And hell, maybe I didn’t believe myself, because I was dreading this tour ending, dreading even leaving the tiny sleeping compartment and micro bed I loved to complain about, because now it felt like Eli was all over my life, threaded through my mornings, afternoons, and evenings. His touch permanently imprinted on my skin, the smell of him all over my sheets, my clothes. The idea that we might go our separate ways tomorrow filled me with a sense of hollowness I hadn’t felt in a long time.
* * *
“Goddamn, this is going to be awesome,” Les breathed out, peering out at the crowd from the concealment of equipment backstage. Evan darted a look over to me, and I knew what he was thinking. Rowdy and restless after such a long wait, even added security had barely been able to keep folks contained behind the barriers, and a lot of the extra hands had been relegated to security for the train, which was parked along the stage to one side. I shared his caution. Every show ran a risk of trampling, and every time someone got hurt, regardless of how it happened, Evan took it personally and was guilt-stricken for weeks afterward. And yeah, it was the nature of the beast, but I understood.
Down in the pit, I could just make out Eli and part of his crew, cameras aimed out at the crowd, while in front of them security pushed people back from the barricades.
“It’ll be fine,” I told Evan, and he nodded, shoving his earpiece in as Les squeezed the back of his neck and pulled him in for a quick kiss before they slung their guitars on and took the stage.