30. Callie
30
CALLIE
I fold my arms across my chest, watching as Torren opens the door to the back room on the bus and tosses my duffle on the floor. In Sav and Mabel’s bus, this area is a room with a bed and a dresser. In this bus, though, it’s just a couch and a television.
“The bed is in the wall,” Torren says, answering my unspoken question. “Jo and I usually just sleep on the bunks and use this as a second lounge area, but I’m setting the bed up for you.”
After Levi’s surprise arrival, Mabel and I rode on Torren and Jonah’s bus to Houston, but we never actually had to sleep here. After spending the weekend in the hotel suites, Mabel’s decided to move back to the bus she shares with Sav.
“If Mabel’s staying on the bus with Sav and Levi, why can’t I?”
“You can if you want. I’m not forcing you to stay here.”
Torren doesn’t look at me as he gets to work on setting up the bed . Turns out it’s pretty simple. A portion of the back wall just kind of pops out and hinges downward, revealing a plush-looking mattress and transforming the room into a replica of the one on the other bus. He pulls some silky sheets out of a cabinet and starts putting them on the bed, and without overthinking it, I step up to help him. In a few minutes, the bed is made, and Torren is pinning me with his emerald eyes once more.
“You can go back to the other bus if you want to. Walton will be in an SUV following whichever bus you’re on, but I’d rather you be here with me.”
I arch a brow. “Why? You heard Hammond. There’s no reason to believe those flowers were from Sav’s stalker.”
He shrugs. “I know.”
“Do you think they were from Sav’s stalker?”
“No. But I still want you here.”
I let us fall into silence as our gazes stay locked together. There’s no avoiding the effect that statement has on me. My stomach does flips of glee as I replay it.
I want you here. I want you here.
But it’s been a long time since I’ve been on this bus, and admittedly, I don’t know how I’m going to feel when my past memories start clashing with my present reality. As if reading my mind, Torren takes a step closer, putting himself only a few feet in front of me.
“You don’t have to stay if you’re uncomfortable. You can go back to the other bus.”
His voice is lower, softer, this time. Letting me know that I have a choice. That it’s up to me. Jonah’s words flit through my mind . It’s all up to you, Calla Lily.
I nod, but I don’t speak.
I’m not uncomfortable, but I can’t help but feel like I should be.
I haven’t had much time to process everything that’s come to light in the last few days, but the only thing I’m certain of at this point is that the pull to be closer to Torren is growing. It’s getting stronger. But can I trust it? Can I trust him ? I’m not sure. I’m not even sure if I can trust myself right now.
The problem is that even after four years of heartbreak and disappointment, I’ve still somehow found myself back in the same shoes of that na?ve, starry-eyed nineteen-year-old girl. A girl who wants things she shouldn’t want. Who dreams about things she’ll never have. Who makes questionable decisions in the name of once-in-a-lifetime experiences.
I don’t want to be that girl again, but I can’t deny how tempting she is. I was my happiest when I was her. It’s not lost on me that I was also my most carefree. My most care less .
I think back through the last couple of days. The meeting with his band. The song. The tattoo. All of it. It’s overwhelming, the surge of emotions I feel. It’s scary, too. Part of me wants to run, but the other part...
The other part wants to see what happens next.
I take a deep breath, then blow it out slowly.
“I’ll stay here.”
Torren’s mouth stretches into a grin, white teeth peeking out just a little through plush pink lips. “Yeah?”
I try like hell to keep myself from smiling back, but I can’t fight the way my lips curve up at the edges. When I speak, even my tone is giddy. “Yeah.”
He reaches up and cups my neck, rubbing his thumb over my jaw, and I lean into his touch without thinking. His warm hands. His cold, silver rings. My eyes flutter shut, and I feel him lean in closer. He brushes his lips lightly over mine, but before the kiss can grow heated, I step back. Just one light touch and I’m at risk of combusting.
“I’m going to take a nap,” I whisper, and Torren nods, a hint of disappointment flitting over his face before it’s replaced with a soft smile.
“Okay. Sure. Let me know if you need anything.”
When Torren pulls the door shut behind him, I lower myself to the bed. It’s jarring how badly I want him. It’s as if the revelations have opened the floodgates of my attraction and it’s nearly impossible to keep it hidden. I’m more at risk than ever of falling in over my head. It’s equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.
I just need to slow it down a bit. That’s all. Keep this desire for him contained.
We’re taking two days to get to the next stop. Miami, where The Hometown Heartless was created. Two days on a bus with Torren King, making only brief pit stops for meals and refueling. I inhale and exhale slowly.
Two days.
I can control myself for two days.
I wake after a few hours to my phone buzzing on the mattress beside me .
I don’t remember when we started driving, but one look out the window tells me we’re well on our way to Miami. I grab for my phone expecting to see Mom or Glory on the screen, but I shoot up to a sitting position when I see Ezra’s name. For a moment, I contemplate denying the call, but then I decide against it. I have no reason not to talk to Ez, and given the recent news about Heartless’s hand in our band’s downfall, it’s probably better that I speak to him. I straighten my shoulders, take a deep breath, and answer the call.
"Hey, Ez.”
“Hey, Cal. Have you checked your texts? I’ve sent you, like, a shit-ton of messages.”
“No. I’ve been asleep, actually. Why?”
“Our old social media accounts have blown up.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Videos and pics of old shows and shit. We’re talking millions of views. Thousands of friend requests. We’re a fucking trending hashtag.”
I put Ezra on speaker and go to my texts, scrolling quickly through the screenshots he’s sent me.
“Oh my god,” I gasp out.
Even during the brief period when we were signed to a label, our accounts didn’t see this much engagement. Ezra isn’t exaggerating. We haven’t posted on these accounts in over a year; yet we still have probably twenty old videos with over a million views each, photographs with thousands of new comments, and our follower counts have grown substantially.
“How? Why?” I ask, and I hear Ez laugh.
“That article after the club. The one that identified us? It all started after that. It’s just...it’s completely fucking insane.”
“Have you talked to the guys?”
“Yeah, I’m with them still, actually. Well, not Pike. He’s back home, but Rock and Beck are inside the hotel room.”
“Where are you?”
“Houston.”
“Oh...” My brow furrows. “What the fuck were you guys doing at that club? Did you honestly follow me to Texas? ”
Ezra snorts out a laugh. “Fuck no. We were already there when you showed up with that fuckhead. I can’t believe you’re fucking dating that prick. I can’t believe he was who you were meeting at ArtFusion. Like, that’s just fucking mind-blowing considering everything that happened after.”
I wince at the note of disgust in his tone. I close my eyes.
“Actually, Ez...I kind of need to talk to you about him.”
“Thanks, but no thanks. Don’t care how you fell on his dick, Cal.”
I roll my eyes, but I don’t even bother commenting. I just trudge forward with the truth.
“Torren didn’t know about the lawsuit. None of the band did.”
“Bullshit.” Ezra barks out a laugh. “Is that how he got you? Told you he didn’t know? Wasn’t his fault?”
“I’m serious, Ez. I was there. When I told him, he blew up. Called a band meeting. The only person who knew was Wade Hammond, and he only found out last year. Torren. Sav. Mabel. Fuck, I think even Jonah—they were all angry. They had no idea.”
Ezra goes silent for a moment. I can picture him in my head, his brows furrowed, and his lips pursed. It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him about what Sav said—she wants the names of the bands their label screwed over and out of the label contract—but I bite it back. That information isn’t mine to share.
“How could they not know?” Ezra asks finally, and I shrug even though he can’t see me.
“I don’t know. I really don’t. But I believe it.”
It goes quiet again, and then I hear Ezra sigh. “We’re in Houston auditioning for a band.”
Something about that information makes my stomach twist. “All three of you?”
“Yeah. It’s like this talent agency. Open call for musicians. If they like you, they’ll manage you. Fill in the holes of your group with other musicians they handpick. Pike didn’t want to do it. He’s got a job working at an autobody shop and a pretty steady girlfriend. But me, Rock, and Beck figured why the fuck not?” Ezra lets out an uncomfortable laugh. “Think this new internet interest will help us?”
My heart sinks at the idea of the guys making music without me. I knew it was possible when I left, but I didn’t have much time to dwell on it. I was too busy working my ass off to keep my family afloat. Now, though...
Now it fucking stings, and my eyes burn with the need to cry.
“Oh.” I force a soft laugh and make myself smile, blinking back tears. “Maybe. Probably. They, um, they’d be stupid not to pick you guys.”
Ezra hums. “It’s not the same without you, Cal. You and Pike. I know we said we’d wait until your mom was better, but when we saw all the press about you and that fuck—well...but you and Torren King...”
“No,” I breathe out, sniffling. “No, I get it. You guys have to do what’s best for you. You shouldn’t have to wait for me.”
“Right...Well, anyway...Think you can introduce me to Sav Loveless?”
I laugh. “She’s not going to bang you, Ez.”
“She could, though. She just needs to meet me. You’re my in now.”
I roll my eyes and wipe the tears off my cheeks. My heart hurts, but my smile is genuine. “I’ve missed you.”
“I miss you too, Cal. Maybe respond to my texts once in a while, okay?”
“Yeah. Okay. Tell the guys I said hey?”
“Sure. Tell Sav Loveless I have a ten-inch cock.”
“Goodbye, you idiot.”
“Bye, Calla Lily.”
I hang up with Ezra, then spend the next fifteen minutes sifting through the band’s old socials. It’s unbelievable. Of course, there are some really mean comments. Comments like their music is trash , and no wonder they were dropped from their label . One comment says I look like a porno leprechaun , and my personal favorite, posted by “bamaboy885” says apparently to become relevant you only have to suck Torren King’s dick.
That one made me laugh out loud.
For the most part, though, the comments are really positive. They like our sound. They like our style. They like us , and it makes me miss the guys. It makes me want to make music as Caveat Lover. It makes me long to be back in the band playing in front of an audience. It boosts my spirits up until my happy balloon is popped with the sharp prick of reality.
Ez is right. This new social media attention probably will help the guys with this whole talent agency audition thing. Beck, Ezra, and Rocky are going to continue making music while I’m stuck here collecting a paycheck for pretending to be Torren’s girlfriend for the rest of the American tour. By the time my job with Heartless is over, it will be too late. The guys will have already moved on without me.
Now, the more praise I see in our comments, the more my chest aches with loss. It’s almost like watching my dreams be crushed all over again. The day we were dropped from our label, it felt like someone close to me had died. The potential for success had become nothing but smoke through my fingertips.
Abruptly, I push myself off the bed and drop my phone behind me. I’m hungry, and I need to be out of this room for a bit. I need to get this shit out of my head and to stop wallowing, but as I step out of my bedroom, I run smack into a firm, tattooed, shirtless chest.
Jonah. He must be readying to take a shower, judging from the towel in his hand.
“No road legs yet?”
I huff a confused laugh. “What?”
“You should be a little less wobbly at this point.”
I arch a brow. “You’ve had a decade of riding on tour buses to get your road legs . I’ve had a few weeks. Cut me some slack.”
“No can do. Rope’s pulled tight. I’m fresh out of slack.” His lips curve up slightly, just a hint of a taunting smirk. He’s definitely flirting, and I have to fight my own smile. He leans in a little closer, blue eyes clearer than I’ve ever seen them. “Though I don’t mind you bumping into me.”
I roll my eyes and step away from him, my smile threatening to break free. He can tell. I know it.
“Cute,” I say flatly. He shrugs.
“Take as long as you need, sweets.” Then he brushes past me and heads into the bathroom.
I blink a few times and shake my head. Sweets . He called me sweets, and I’m instantly transported back to those two nights four years ago in the desert.
She’s with me.
You sure you want this, sweets?
Honestly, any possibility of Jonah remembering me from ArtFusion has never crossed my mind. He was so obviously on something both nights, and given everything I’ve heard about him...Well, it just didn’t seem like something to be concerned with. Plus, Torren might claim I wasn’t just a groupie to him, but I definitely was to Jonah. Jonah doesn’t strike me as the type to remember groupies.
But this...
This is so fucking weird . All of it.
I don’t think I’ll ever get used to being submerged in the Heartless universe. There’s still so much I don’t understand, and the band dynamics are at the top of the list.
The relationship between Sav and Mabel, I get. They’re best friends. They act like best friends, talk like best friends, and willingly spend time together outside of band-related things. They’re almost like sisters, actually. It feels like the strongest, most solid relationship among the four, and I’ve come to really like them, even if I didn’t want to.
Sav and Torren are a little more complicated.
Their past is messy, and their present feels so...muddy. One day, I think I have it figured out, and the next, I’m clueless. Do they still have feelings for one another? Will they get back together? I know Sav is with Levi now, but how long will it last? How long will my... thing ...with Torren last? Another months and a half, at least. That’s what I’m contracted for. But after that?
My brow furrows at the thought. Everything he’s said and done recently suggests this fake dating thing isn’t so fake anymore, but fuck me...
I used to think Torren and Sav were a ticking bomb. That it was only a matter of time before they fell back into bed together and everything else imploded. But now...well, now, I just don’t know what to think.
And then there’s Jonah.
He’s an anomaly. A complete and total mystery on how and where he fits into this band. Sure, he’s the lead guitarist. Sure, he’s been here from the beginning. But I rarely see him talk to Sav and Mabel. Other than wary glances or the occasional failed attempt to be playful, they don’t interact with him, either. I can tell they care about him, but I get the feeling that he doesn’t care about much of anything. The music, yeah. The lifestyle, definitely. But what else?
Jonah is obviously closest to Torren, but even that relationship seems off. Fractured and precarious. Not for the first time, thoughts of him and Torren with groupies flit into my mind, and my face and chest flush involuntarily. The way my stomach flips is different than how it reacts for Torren alone—for them together, it’s more lust and curiosity than anything else—but the acrobatics are still shocking. I’m embarrassed by how quickly it turns me on. By how often I’ve thought about it.
When I hear the shower start to run, it jolts me out of my thoughts, and I walk into the main room of the bus. I need a cold drink and some food, and then I need a distraction.
Torren is sitting on the couch with a guitar on his lap and a notebook open beside him, but his eyes are on me. I can tell from the smirk that he knew I was coming, which makes me think he heard my conversation with Jonah in the hallway. That gives me pause. Every interaction with Jonah so far has been met with anger from Torren.
A smirk—which is almost a smile—is...confusing.
These guys are so fucking confusing.
“What?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at him quickly before switching my attention to the fridge.
“You do need to get your road legs.”
I don’t look at him as I grab a water and move to the opposite couch. “You heard that?”
“It’s not that big of a bus.”
I finally make eye contact, studying him carefully. I contemplate just coming out and asking. I almost change my mind to avoid yet another uncomfortable interaction, but I’m tired of feeling off-center. I’m tired of the confusion . And so far, nothing good has come from beating around the bush, anyway.
“Okay. So, you’re not going to puff up your chest and tell me to stay away from him? To be careful? Where’s the jealous, possessive act you’ve been throwing around recently? You’re far too calm.”
His smile stretches into a full-blown grin, and he sets his guitar on the floor.
“Does it bother you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to be jealous and possessive?”
“No. But I want to know what to expect. I don’t like being caught off guard. ”
“Fair.” He nods, pausing briefly before explaining. But when he does explain, it just makes me more confused. “That was before .”
I sigh with irritation. “Before what ?”
He shrugs. “Before I figured shit out.”
I cock my head to the side. “What shit? Quit speaking in riddles. It’s annoying.”
Torren laughs, then braces his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. The move confirms what he said moments earlier. It’s really not that big of a bus...
“You’re mine, Firebird, and he knows it. I’m just waiting on you.”
I force a scoff to try and hide the way my pulse picks up pace. I look away in hopes that he doesn’t see the blush rushing to my cheeks.
“In your dreams, King.”
He nods. “Yep. Every single one of them.”