Page 4
FOUR
HALE
Accepting this job felt stupid at first, but money is a bit tight, and I figured why the fuck not. I’m twenty-four, with no job or kids, and definitely no partner to tie me to any one location. What’s wrong with a bit of traveling?
It hit me while I was packing the closest garments that I own to concert attire, that my entire week will revolve around crafting looks for the band, taking pictures and videos of the behind-the-scenes, and ogling them. Fuck me and my fucking panties, I guess.
I do love that my work experience has afforded me this opportunity.
Who knows, if it doesn’t work out for myself and Neon Cherry, maybe I could spark the interest of another band this week.
Being an on-call makeup artist has never been something I’ve considered, but it would also make great content for my own socials.
Though, being stuck on this bus for another 200 miles…
Not a fan. Do I realize that I’ve signed up to be my stepbrother’s groupie?
Yeah. The dude is lowkey an asshole–a fine as fuck asshole, sure–but maybe even more so since his band took a massive record deal.
Colby always swore that they had more freedom staying indie, but the chunk of change snaking into their pockets was too heavy to deny, I think.
Colby and Jackson have undoubtedly been walking on eggshells around me for most of the drive. The three of us being around each other again is strange, but thankfully, I have Sydnee. Even after meeting for the first time today, there’s something about her that I already can’t get enough of.
Like the fact that we’re both into girls, for instance.
My first look at her, she had the worst resting bitch face, but for some reason, I fucking loved it. The look in her eyes said, You belong under my boot , and I agreed with it. Now, sitting across from her at the tiny bus table, I’m even more entranced.
“Scoot over, brat,” Colby says, towering over me.
I roll my eyes and scoot closer to the window, and he roughly plops onto the tiny bench, squishing me to the side of the bus. His eyes are trained on Syd, and I briefly wonder if there’s something there that I’m missing. But really, what band doesn’t have something going on between them all?
Well, except Derek, but we don’t see much of him unless we’re home or he’s on stage.
Derek is the drummer of Neon Cherry and insists on driving separately from the band for every gig.
From what I know, Derek has a young daughter who he had right after high school, so he avoids tour bus shenanigans and motel rooms, trying to keep his record clean.
He keeps her out of the spotlight as much as possible, and having any scandals could potentially put him and his little family under scrutiny.
I respect it, but damn, it must be tiring.
Colby’s slurping brings me out of my train of thought, and I stare at him while he scrapes his spoon against the bowl in an attempt to get the last bit of cereal.
“How much longerrrrr?” I faux whine to Colby.
“Not too much. You need something?” He stands and places his bowl in the sink.
“Not particularly. I just didn’t think about how long this drive would be. Why aren’t we just flying there?”
Syd snorts across from me.
“Colby insists on the authentic experience for his band.” As she rolls her eyes, I look back at Colby, who just shrugs.
“It’s true. Welcome aboard the rockstar train.” He tosses the words over his shoulder as he walks to the back of the bus, leaving Syd and I truly alone for the first time.
“I just want to say, I’m sorry about your breakup. I know you said it was a mutual thing, but it probably sucks all the same.”
“It happens. Besides, I think this week will be exactly what I need.” She smiles at me, and there’s something mischievous in her eyes. I need something to take us out of this moment. The feeling building in my chest is making me unusually nervous.
“Should we get a picture for socials?” I say with a little too much excitement in my tone, most likely making it extremely obvious that I needed a subject change.
“Sure.” The look doesn’t fade as she poses for the camera.
I leave Syd sitting at the table and pull up my phone, squatting slightly to catch the way the sun pours in through the window and casts Syd’s features in the most perfect silhouette.
I caption it, “Harlem, Ohio, on our way to you!” With a few more clicks, I add one of Neon Cherry’s less popular songs to the story and hit share.
You know what they say, exposure is good.
You never know what song will be your number one in this industry; any song can chart at any time these days, when all it takes is a trending audio on social media.
The tension from my conversation with Syd is manifesting in my cheeks, and I can feel the blush creeping in. A cold splash of water on my skin should do the trick, but when I twist the bathroom knob without a second thought, I’m stunned by the sound of running water behind me.
“Woah, woah. I’m in here.” Jackson rips the shower curtain back to assess my intrusion of his space.
He holds the curtain in a way that leaves his muscular torso on display but hides his…
manhood . When the fuck did this fine-ass man step onto this tour bus?
Oh, lord help me. I’m immediately aware of my reddening cheeks.
“Shit, I’m so sorry?—”
“Oh, it’s just you, my angel. Why didn’t you say so? Come on in.” Jackson winks at me and wiggles his eyebrows. I wish I could lie and say the view he’s giving me isn’t deliciously tempting.
“Who did you think I was?” I quiz him, raising an eyebrow, because who would he be startled by at this point?
“Oh, just your asshole brother.”
“ Step brother,” I correct. “And why asshole to you?”
“Oh, calm down, you know what I mean,” he says, avoiding my question.
The shower curtain covering his lower half has drooped while he’s become more relaxed, and the toned V below his abs is drawing me in. My mind is overwhelmed by trying to maintain eye contact, longing for another peek at his abs, and the taunting space below them vying for my attention.
“If you join me, you can stare all you want, baby girl.”
I can’t help but wonder what he would do if I said yes.
“Maybe next time, big boy,” I say as I slip back out of the door.
“Next time it is, then!” Jackson shouts over the sound of the spraying water.
His words cause a tingle down to my toes, and I wonder if I’ll make it through this tour continuing to deny him, even if all I’ll be able to offer him is a hookup.
I’ve barely turned around and placed my back to the thin bathroom door to collect myself when Colby appears out of nowhere.
“What were you doing in the bathroom with Jackson?”
Colby’s voice wipes the smile off my face immediately. I don’t really want to speak to him more than necessary, and the way he towers over me now isn’t helping my wayward thoughts. I can’t let myself get comfortable around them again. I can’t let them back in.
“Nothing. I accidentally walked in on him showering and left.”
He looks at the bathroom door like he can see remnants of something going on.
“It sounded a little more chatty than that. No fucking my bandmates on my tour bus, got it?” His hazel eyes level with mine, looking more green than brown at the moment.
“As if I would listen to you telling me what I’ll be doing with my body. I’m taking a nap. Wake me up when we get there, grumpy ass.”
I crawl into bed, rubbing my temples and desperately trying to ignore the slight ache between my legs, due to Colby’s commanding temperament.