Page 93 of Rebooting Conor Flynn

Maybe I should lean into this whole fuckboy image. Someone had to take over for the happily settled Sam and Jay the recluse.

My phone burned in my pocket.

I hooked a finger at the edge of the curtain surrounding my bunk and tugged it aside, peeking into the bottom bunk. Empty. I hoped Noelle didn’t miss the bus.

As I hoisted my bag into the compartment at the foot of my bed, I heard her tinkling laugh while she chatted with Quinton, and my shoulders relaxed. The phone in my back pocket cooled.

I jogged downstairs, and she smiled when she saw me. That smile made everything right.

I pointed to the stationary table and chairs in the corner by the front door. “I’m going to do a little work down here while everyone’s sleeping off their hangovers. Wanna join me, or do you want to sleep?”

She patted the bag over her shoulder. “I have some work to do. I’ll join you once I stash my overnight.”

“Ashley make it to the airport okay?”

“She and Shanice took a car this morning.”

“Ji-yoon on her way?”

“She’s already there. Poor thing had an early morning interview in Austin, so her manager whisked her from the concert to the airport.”

“I remember those days. They wear on you.” I placed my laptop on the table and dropped into a chair. “I hope someone’s taking care of her, but I doubt it.”

“Maybe you could talk to her, Con. You know better than anyone what she’s facing.” She put her foot on the bottom step and twisted her head over her shoulder. “Imagine how different it could’ve been if Five2Go had someone in their corner—someone who really cared about your mental health and emotional well-being.”

As she climbed the stairs, I murmured, “I never would’ve lost you.”

By the time Noelle made it back to the first level of the bus, Quinton had steered us onto the highway and the long crawl across Texas. And I’d nailed down the first verse of a new song.

Noelle took the seat across from me, flipping open her laptop. “Are we the only ones awake on this bus?”

“I think Quinton is.”

Quinton called back, “Don’t be too sure about that.”

Noelle’s fingers flew across her keyboard, but the buzzing of her phone interrupted her every few minutes.

I tipped my chin toward the phone. “Putting out fires?”

“It’s Dina.”

Knots tightened in my gut. “Is she happy Ashley’s playing the victim of a love triangle, or is she pissed one of the points of that triangle is the tour publicist?”

“A little of both. She just wants me to make it right.”

“Or else?” I had to struggle to keep my eyes from my own phone resting beside my laptop.

“Implied.” She hunched forward. “But those photos aren’t the answer. Posting those would solve one problem but create a whole host of others.”

“The pictures mean we’re not the bad guys. I didn’t cheat, and you didn’t betray your client.”

“They also mean Ashley Bennett hasn’t changed her spots, and people are going to drag her for shitting on you—and then I’ve basically failed at one very important aspect of my job.”

“It sounds like you lose either way, Noelle. So, why not lose in a way that benefits me and not Ashley?”

Did that sound as bad as it felt saying it?

“Because I still think I can work this out. Maybe if we let Ashley know we have the pictures, she’ll back off. You two can go back to pretending you’re the loving couple, and I can slip into the background—where I belong.”