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Oh, god. The smells. I wave my hand around, struggling not to gag, pulling my shirt up over my nose. “Seriously, y’all?”
“Sorry,” Jay, the drummer, blurts out. “Beer and pizza are the worst.”
“Don’t make me ban pizza,” I quip through my shirt, getting up and heading to the back of the bus where there’s a sitting area that converts into my bedroom at night. I grab a slice of pizza and glare at Jay as I pass him. He shrugs, a smile plastered on his face.
Shoving the curtain closed so the land of smelly men can’t reach me, I pull in a deep breath of fresh air.
My drained body protests as I transform the sitting area into a bed, but rejoices when I lay down. Movement from the bus gliding over the road rocks me to sleep. I barely register the first trill of a text, but when it goes off again, I grab my phone to mute it so it doesn’t wake anyone else. I peek at the time—three a.m.
“Rule eighty-nine on a tour bus, turn your phone on silent at night,” Jay slurs from outside my room.
I peek out the curtain, and even though I’m staring at closed up bunks, I whisper, “Sorry.” I crawl my way back up the bed and touch the face of my phone. It lights with a text from the same unknown number as earlier. Unease rolls through me as I read the text.
Unknown: You need a lesson in gratitude.
The phone slips from my hands onto the bed and I stare at it, becoming instantly awake. Silence, except the hum of the road under the tires surrounds me. I focus on the phone, expecting another text to come through, but it eventually fades to black. My mind races with thoughts of who it could be. Again, Shane comes to mind. I don’t know what happened to him after they fired him and I don’t care. I’m certain the narcissistic ass holds me responsible. Falling back into bed, I sigh loudly and my gaze darts to the curtain, waiting for someone to say something.
The next hour, I toss and turn, my mind not shutting off. I give in and take a Benadryl, having brought them just in case I had trouble sleeping on a bus. It doesn’t take long for my body to become heavy, like it’s sinking into quicksand. I don’t fight the fatigue, rather welcome it.
Chapter Thirteen
Sydney
“I need a new phone,” I mutter to Graham while having our mid-morning call. He’s already at the next city, in a hotel room. I’m lying on my bed. The Benadryl hangover is strong.
“Why?”
He doesn’t need to know about the texts. I already feel like a burden with the Shane situation. I’m nothing but drama these days.
I dramatically sigh into the phone, the lie rolling off my tongue. “My aunt decided now that I’m famous, I’m worthy of her time, I guess.”
He grumbles. “She’s not worth the gum I stepped in today. Which, by the way, took me an hour to get out of my Gucci loafers.” I sip on my Red Bull. I might need two of these. He continues to tell me about how he got the gum out and how inconsiderate people are. Finally, he finishes, redirecting his attention to what started this conversation. “Okay, I’ll have a new phone by the time you guys get to Phoenix.”
“Thank you.” We go over my calendar for the next week. In between concerts, he’s set up more radio station interviews. I groan. “I hate when they talk about my personal life.”
“I’ll reiterate to them they are not to ask if you’re single.”
It won’t stop them. That’s what the people want to hear about. It’s annoying that everyone is so invested in my dating life, then it’s almost inevitable I’m asked out by the time I walk out of the studio. Not without trying to back out a couple times, I agreed to go on a date a few months ago. One of Tristin’s friends, whom she said was perfect for me. He was nice. But it seems nice isn’t my type anymore. That’s all I used to date, the artsy guys, in college. My taste has changed, thanks to Max. I need someone to take control of the date, not ask me five times where I want to eat. After going home that night, I decided I don’t have time to date.
With my new phone in hand, I glance around the locker room, transformed into my dressing room. I imagine the gorgeous football players walking around in their towels after a game. I don’t want to admit how many times Addie and I tried to sneak into the Cowboy’s locker room when we were in high school. Pulling out my phone, I snap a picture and send it to Addie.
Me: I finally did it! Minus the hot naked guys, ha!
Addie: Oh! And I’m missing it.
As I’m typing out a response, another text comes through.
Hulk: If you’re looking for hot sexy men… I can show you the way. Why new phone?
A blush spreads over my cheeks, tingling sensations strike my core. How does he do that? We haven’t talked in four months and any other guy would say that and I’d laugh them off. I wish I could turn off the visceral reaction my body has whenever Max speaks.
Addie: Sorry! Aiden is sleeping on the couch tonight since he can’t keep his eyes off my texts. We’re at Max’s. Lulu wanted to ride the horses this weekend.
Me: LOL. It’s okay. Tell Lulu I said hi.
I hop up on the director’s chair, staring at my reflection in the mirror. A response to Max comes to mind. The thought sends a mischievous grin to my lips. What’s the harm in a little flirting? I light up my phone again, opening Max’s text.
Me: Certain family members decided I was worthy, and I said hot NAKED guys.
