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I’m spent.
Grumpy as all get out and ready to fade off into the sweet oblivion of sleep.
But can I?
Nooooo …
Thanks to my sister and her newfound rockstar lover, I’m stuck on this bus until they come out.
Coming alright.
And I suppose it doesn’t count as newfound either… right?
The RV shakes despite the shock system I know is attached to a machine like this, which means my sister is getting it good.
I roll my eyes for what feels like the thousandth time tonight and peep back at my phone for yet another multiplicity of times. Cedar finally texted me, but I didn’t tell them she did.
I just want to go home.
C’s a dick, too.
Tonight was supposed to be a celebration of our accomplishments, but I’ve spent more time with strangers than my own sisters.
Assholes. All of them.
Like I said … I’m grumpy. Sleep deprived. And fucking hungry again.
I chew on my thumbnail despite it being down to the quick already and sigh back into the plush leather chair I’ve been perched in since we got here. Mostly.
It is pretty nice in here.
It’s the exact opposite of what I’d suspect a rock group to travel in, creams and beige colors line the walls in place of dark woods and blacks. One TV, modestly sized, hangs on the wall and only one is hidden behind a secret compartment towards the front of the bus. The living quarters lead right into a full fucking kitchen—one bigger than my apartment—with an entire set of full-sized appliances. Beyond that is the bunks that line the wall, three stacked on each side, with curtains available to slide in place for privacy. Most are open now, the beds inside clearly slept in.
Much like the one on the far side from the bathroom, which happens to be the only thing separating the bunks from the master.
The door to outside the bus opens, drawing my attention up but my jaw drops down to the shiny marbled floor.
Jonathon walks up the few stairs and into the cabin like he fucking owns the place, and I watch on at every move he makes. Jonathon’s ass flexes with each step. His gait is strong, but one side has the slightest limp you probably wouldn’t notice if you weren’t creepy little me. And his back muscles, highlighted perfectly by the black tee he wears? Fucking delicious looking.
Lord have mercy.
Forgive me, Father, for this man wants me to sin. Over and over again.
That is, until my eyes land on the giant white neon sign across the back of his shirt.
“Ian,” he greets the other meathead, who stands at Jonathon’s entrance, and accepts the clipboard he’s handed. “She’s all checked out, boss.”
“Good on ya. Thanks.” Ian looks over the paperwork, then nods his acceptance slash dismissal to Jonathon who spins on his heels like a good little fucking soldier right in my damn direction.
Shit.
Jonathon echoes my thought, except his is out loud and directed right at me.
Handyman, my fucking ass.
That bitch is labeled as SECURITY.
“What the fucking fuck?” I’m monotone, too exhausted to express any more emotion, but clearly confused about this man’s intent in my fucking life.
