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Me: And why are we up at 4?
Hulk: Yes. Yes. No. Are there different ones? You’ll see.
I match his answers with my questions and smile at his casual confusion. Yes, Max, there is. I decide on workout casual and pull out a pair of heather gray leggings with a long black v-neck t-shirt before I take a quick shower. The weather in Albuquerque is fifty-five degrees so I grab my thicker gray cardigan and my favorite slouchy beanie. It’ll also help keep me under the radar of the public eye. Hopefully.
Thirty minutes later, I tread through the dark, quiet bus. When I slide the pocket door open to where Gus sits, Max is leaning against the dashboard, casually with his arms crossed, talking. My pulse picks up as I drink him in. Backward baseball cap, light washed jeans with a gray henley top that shows off his muscular arms underneath. Oh, boy. I squeeze the knit hat in my hands, wondering how I’m supposed to keep my hands off him while we’re out in the public.
His lips part with a devilish grin. Gus turns in his seat. “Well, there she is. Good morning, Sky,” he bellows, brightly.
I lean over to glance out the windshield to the pitch dark sky. “I wouldn’t consider this morning yet.”
He waves me off. “Just like they say, the early bird gets the worm.” Memories of my dad saying that comes to mind. It was his favorite thing to say as I would drag myself into the kitchen before school started. He was always chipper and ready to start his day, but not without having breakfast with me.
“Aww, yes. But as Franklin D. Roosevelt said, ‘I think we consider too much the good luck of the early bird and not enough the bad luck of the early worm’.” He hoots out loud, slapping his jeans. Max laughs, shaking his head as I close the door behind me so they don’t wake everyone else up. My dad had the same response at my researched retort.
When I glance at Max, he winks at me. “So, are you the bird or the worm?”
I bite my lip, not able to keep the dirtiness of that question out of my mind. I will volunteer to be the worm if Max is the bird. Except, there’s no bad luck when Max is doing the eating. My cheeks heat and I clear my throat, glancing down at my Nike shoes.
“We’ll clear that up later,” Max says with humor in his voice, pulling my attention back to him. “We need to go, though.”
“You two have fun. I’ll see you later in the afternoon,” Gus says, opening the door.
I follow Max out of the bus, the crisp air hitting my face full blast. I pull in a breath, surprised by the coldness. Brrr. I put on my hat and tighten my cardigan around my waist.
“It’ll heat as the sun rises,” Max says, pulling me into his chest and kissing my cold lips. When he pulls back, he looks at my hat and tugs at the puff ball at the top. “Cute.”
I huff, fixing the hat on my head. “You’re like a five-year-old sometimes.”
“You weren’t thinking of me being a five-year-old a couple minutes ago.” He flashes a knowing grin and then grabs my hand, leading me to the back of the bus where his black SUV sits. I shake my head as my cheeks warm. No, I wasn’t. I slide into the passenger side after he opens my door, the inside air smells of leather and Max. Noticing a coffee cup in his console, I pick it up only to find it empty.
“We’ll get some,” he says, sensing my disappointment.
As soon as we pull out, I ask, “Are we going to watch the sunrise somewhere?” I glance out my window to the dark mountains where I assume we’re heading.
“You’ll see.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You know I have a concert tonight, right?”
He laughs. “Yes, I’m aware. Don’t worry, I’ll have you to the venue by noon. Graham already enlightened me what he’ll do if I don’t.”
“His bark is worse than his bite,” I snicker. Reaching over, Max grabs my hand and links our fingers. I revel in his warmth, loving how he makes me feel.
“I’m happy to see you.”
“Me too,” I say, staring at his profile. Can a guy drive sexy? Because, with one hand high on the wheel, his body in a relaxed yet confident position, his tattoo peeking out from under his henley, I want to crawl in his lap.
After driving fifteen minutes, when we pull into a VIP parking lot and park, my attention switches to the sea of cars parked and my nerves flip flop from desire to concern. “Um, Max. This is a little more public than I expected.” He knows how hard it is for me to go anywhere without being flocked by fans.
He turns his hat around, low on his forehead, making him appear more youthful. “I have a plan. But you don’t look like Sky without all the makeup and dressed up.” I shouldn’t feel offended by that, but I do. “You look beautiful. You look like Sydney. My Sydney.”
“Do you not like the way I look on stage?”
He drops his head. “You’re the most gorgeous woman on this earth, no matter what you have on.”
I eye him for a beat before saying, “Good answer.”
The sky lightens to a cool blue, the transition from night to day right before the sun comes up. As soon as we’re out of the car, Max holds my hand, not caring who sees and I don’t either.
