Page 46 of Rebooting Conor Flynn

That’s why Ashley’s connection to him would help polish her own image. Numbers didn’t lie. Ticket sales for the tour had been building steadily. We’d be walking into a sold-out venue tomorrow night in San Diego.

That’s all that mattered right now. Sold out shows brought me closer to a promotion...and further from a pink slip.

Jade stepped over the little table littered with snack bags and crumbs and plopped onto Conor’s vacated cushion. “You and Conor are like a romcom couple. You knew him from before, right?”

Oh boy. At least Jade had given me an opportunity to set the record straight. “Yeah, we did. I worked for Baker Street, Gordon Cooper’s management company that he formed from the Star Machine show. Baker Street managed Five2Go right from the start.”

“How’d you get that job?” She plumped the pillow behind her as if she were here for the long haul. “I mean, you’re American, right?”

“My dad is a diplomat. Our family moved to England when I was a child. I heard about the job through a school friend at Oxford. Her mother grew up with Gordon, and my friend told me about the position because I was really into music. I still had to apply and interview, so it wasn’t a sure thing. I followed all the new bands and went to all the grungy clubs to see them. I even played guitar and was trying to form a band myself. Wanted to major in music theory, but my parents were dead set against it.”

“Same over here.” Jade raised her hand. “I wanted to major in dance at UCLA, and my parents told me they’d stop paying for school if I didn’t stick with computer science. Can you imagine me studying computers?”

“You seem to be pretty techie with your phone.”

“Completely different.” She clasped her phone to her chest.

“So, did your parents stop paying for college?”

“They didn’t have to.” Jade snapped her fingers. “I dropped out when I landed a gig on one of J-Lo’s shows. And you? Did you ever change your major to music?”

I imitated her snap. “Didn’t need to. I dropped out of Oxford when I got the job with Baker Street—and my first assignment was Five2Go.”

“Girl!” Jade screamed, and we high-fived. “Oh my God. So lucky. I crushed on them hard when I was a kid.”

“It was pretty wild. They’d just come off the Star Machine TV show, but they already had a huge following. We didn’t have any idea how big they’d get.” I stared out the window of the bus as the freeway wound toward the coast, and flashes of the ocean appeared.

Big enough to lay waste to the fledgling relationship between me and Conor.

“But you got to know all the boys.” Jade’s wide, shining eyes encouraged confidences I was not willing to share.

“I mean, I knew them on a surface level—all good guys.” I pressed my lips together, hoping to signal an end to the subject of the boys’ personalities, habits, fears, and dreams. And I knew all of those.

Jade slid a glance my way while tapping on her phone case. “But Conor was your favorite.”

She didn’t even frame it as a question.

I lifted my gaze to the ceiling of the bus. “Oh, I don’t know. I liked all of them equally.”

“Hmm, your father’s not the only diplomat in the family.”

An ear-splitting whistle ripped through the bus, and Jermaine hopped onto a stationary chair to make his announcement. “Quinton’s going to be pulling into the hotel shortly. Clean up after yourselves. Turn off the TVs. You can leave stuff on the bus if you like but take what you need for the show. Quinton will be parking out back behind the structure. If you need anything from the bus text me or Noelle, we have keys, and we can reach Quinton.”

Jermaine’s words acted like a prod, and everyone clicked into action.

I swept up my soda can along with a few others and dropped them into the recycling bin. Then I popped my head into the upper level. “Someone wanna grab my overnight from the end of my bunk?”

“Already got it.” Conor waved his arm in the air.

Why did he have to keep doing things for me? I was the publicist here. I should be doing things for him—like brushing that lock of hair from his eyes, like smoothing his wrinkled T-shirt over his chest, like...

“You wanna take it?”

My gaze flicked up from where it had wandered below his belt. “Take it?”

He held up my carry-on. “The bag? I mean, I can bring it down for you.”

God, no. He didn’t need to be hauling my luggage around, too. I cleared my throat and climbed the rest of the stairs. “It’s not that heavy. Toss it over here.”