Page 18 of Hard Rock Deceit

Flattered was only one out of a thousand emotions that swirled in my stomach when it came toAugust.

"Cassie's a fan," Damon drawled with a devilish look in his eyes. "Aren'tyou?"

"I like your music," I said. "I've never been to one of your concerts beforetoday."

"We fucking rock on stage, right?" Cameron said, no humilitywhatsoever.

"You guys areprettygood."

"Pretty good?" the bassist groaned. "You're killing me with faintpraise."

"I've never been to a rock show before. I have nothing to compareitto."

Cameron sat up straight. "So we popped your concertcherry,huh?"

I flushed. Cameronlaughed.

"Speaking of cherries, what do you thinking of our new opening band, Cherry Lips?" Ianasked.

"They're good," August said simply. "Talented."

"Which is August-speak for beyond awesome," Cameron explainedtome.

I thought back to what he'd said about my photos of tonight's concert. Maybe good wasn't as bad as he'd made it sound. I wondered what high standards I'd have to meet to be deemedgreatinAugust'seyes.

We hit another bump, bigger this time. A small, sickly sound escaped my lips. I put my hand on my belly to quell thequeasiness.

"Is the ride always this rough?" Iasked.

"Why don't you go lie down for a bit?" August suggested. "You can take the bedroom at the back. No one reallyusesit."

Nodding, I stood up gingerly. This way maybe I could put off more questions from them. At leastfornow.

"You said you mostly stay in hotels, right?" I asked. "I don't think I'd like to try sleeping onthisbus."

"If it was up to August, we'd stay in hotels every night." Damon laughed. "The music execs all thinks he's high maintenance anddemanding."

"Sleeping on a tour bus every night has a negative effect on your health," August said plainly. "We need to stay in top shape to give our fans one hundred percent. They understood once I explained ittothem."

"Someday, someone's going to tell you no and you won't be able to handle it," Damon told him. He handed me a small waste basket. "In case you start throwing up. Don't want puke all overthebus."

Flushing, I took it from him. It was thoughtful, in a snarky sortofway.

Making my way to the back, I passed the bunkbeds. The sheets were crisp andsmooth.

It seemed August had a lot of sway in the music industry. I wondered how he'd managed that. Maybe being a genius drummer, composer, and music producer all in one afforded him more leewaythanmost.

Opening a sliding door at the back, I found a small bedroom with a queen bed. Considering the rest of the luxurious bus, I'd half expected to find a king-sized mattress with black silk sheets, decadent and over the top. Instead, the bedspread was a simple light bluecotton.

The bed was soft when I laid down on it. Staring at the ceiling, on my back, with nothing else to occupy my mind, my thoughts drifted back to August'swords.

He'd guessed so much about me. It was uncanny. I couldn't have been that transparent. I had no idea how he'd guessed half the things hetoldme.

August even guessed what happened with my firstboyfriend.

Jake was a good guy. Always smiling, upbeat. He didn't mind I sometimes held back, confused or overwhelmed by his attentions. He dived into our relationship, holding nothing back, giving everything. He told me how much he liked meeveryday.

I tried to feel the same. I wanted to feelthesame.