Page 55 of Rebooting Conor Flynn

“Um, okay, sure.” I glanced over my shoulder. “Let me just touch base with Jermaine, and I’ll meet you at the car.”

I chatted with Jermaine for five minutes about tomorrow’s logistics and then walked toward the secure parking area. As I passed a black Escalade with tinted windows, a door cracked open. “In here, Noelle.”

I stuffed my bag onto the floor of the car and slid onto the smooth leather seat.

Ashley had retreated to the corner of the back seat, clutching her phone in her lap, her face pale beneath her makeup.

I wrinkled my nose. “Are you alright? You nailed that set.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. Just exhausted.” Her phone dinged, and she stared at it. When she finally swiped her screen to open the text, she fumbled the phone and it fell onto the floor of the car.

“I’ll get it.” I bent forward to retrieve the phone, glancing at the display. Someone had sent Ashley a dark photo, and a text that read, I know about...

Ashley snatched the phone out of my grasp with a trembling hand. “Thanks.”

She turned her face to the window and folded in on herself—a very un-Ashley position.

I got the hint and tipped my head back against the seat, closing my eyes.

That couldn’t have been a picture of me and Conor. Ashley already saw and knew about those. We’d already rehashed the incident last night, and she’d brushed it off.

This was not the same energy. Whatever that picture showed—and whatever the texter knew—rattled Ashley to her core.

And I may have just inherited one more headache.

Chapter 14

CONOR

The following night on the bus to Phoenix, I couldn’t even catch Noelle’s attention—forget about having an actual conversation with her or looking into her eyes or brushing her hair from her face or touching her smooth skin.

I swallowed and adjusted my jeans.

Our conversation at the club in San Diego before the paparazzi ambushed us had been needling me all day and night. Did she forget about the texts I sent from Australia? How did she not see them?

I glanced at the steps to the top deck of the bus one more time before grabbing the game control and shouting, “My turn.”

I didn’t really want to play again, but it beat tracking Noelle’s whereabouts and trying to avoid Ashley, who’d decided to take the bus with us.

Rhys snatched the controller from my hand. “No way, mate. You’re bloody awful at this game. Jade’s better than you at this point.”

Jade stepped over the table and wedged herself between me and Rhys. “Is that supposed to be an insult because I’m pretty sure I kicked your ass last time, drummer boy.”

“Hey, Conor. You wanna check out this song I’m working on?” Ashley, wriggled into a seat at the table across from the gaming area, stretched her arms over her head and arched her back, cat-like.

She decided to nail down the fake dating scheme by joining me on the bus to Phoenix. She probably figured it was a win-win, as the trip took just six hours, and she got to look like the devoted girlfriend in front of the fans when she boarded the bus.

She’d been coy and nauseating all day as we did a radio show live, a couple of interviews, a quick photo shoot. I suppose I should be happy—for Noelle’s sake—that Ashley shrugged off the pap pics from the other night.

Ashley seemed different today—more subdued. Maybe she decided to shelve the attitude and adopt a more likeable persona. Worked for me, just as long as I could shelve her once this tour ended, we sold lots of tickets, and Noelle got her promotion.

But she didn’t have to keep pretending on the bus. I was sure almost everyone on tour knew the relationship was bollocks.

Ashley’s phone buzzed on the table, and she jumped. Her face tensed as she glanced at her screen, and then she tossed the phone onto the seat beside her.

She curled one leg beneath her ass to prop herself up as she craned her neck and surveyed the bus from front to back. When she wasn’t trying to play nice with me, she was grabbing her phone every two seconds.

The vibe on this bus felt like we were on the highway to hell.