3—Oklahoma City （Catering）
The room stills when I enter for breakfast. A dozen sets of eyes lock on me, but there’s only one pair I’m looking for. Sea green with specks of brown, probably crinkled in irony.
“Larinda, hi. I’m so sorry. Did they not deliver your breakfast this morning?” our tour manager says as he jumps up from his table.
“They did. I just… felt like joining everyone else today.”
Bruce stares at me like I’ve never eaten with the crew in our four tours together. Probably because I haven’t.
“Oh, biscuits. My favorite.” I grab a paper plate from the stack and pluck one from the buffet tray.
I sense the flabbergasted attention of everyone in the room as I work my way down the table of continental breakfast options. No one has said a word by the time I reach the end with a cup of water and my plate of… a biscuit. Now, to find a seat.
Turning toward the group, I scan the room for a, um, random opening at one of the folding tables.
Just a girl looking for a chair. No big deal. Any seat will do. So many chairs to choose from.
Except only one is across from sea green eyes that make my stomach glad it will only have to digest a single biscuit. The sudden rush of heat makes it hard to do anything, let alone eat. When did this happen? When did our friendship become a crush which became… me eating breakfast with the crew for the first time ever?
“Morning,” Val says as I lower myself across from him. “You sleep okay?”
I pretend not to notice the gawking going on around us.
“So well,” I lie. “You?”
He nods and lifts his coffee cup to his lips. As usual the pink curve of his mouth is turned up in a slight smirk that makes it clear complex thoughts are going on behind that adorable half-smile. His dark hair is covered with the customary ball cap, while several tattoos peek out from the V-neck and sleeves of his graphic tee. Even the faint woody scent of the shower products he uses reaches across the table to torment me. All that’s missing are the studio headphones around his neck and he’d look the same as every other time I’ve seen him over this past year.
But today is different. Today the edgy, enigmatic boy-next-door contrast that defines him is particularly alluring. He’s a majestic human leopard-bear.
“I’m surprised to see you. I figured you’d get some royal five-star spread delivered to your private bus, not be forced to mingle with us common folk.”
His teasing tone immediately calms my nerves. I may be out of place, but when I’m with Val, I always feel comfortable and safe.
“Yes, well, I prefer my biscuits cold and slightly stale, so…”
He snorts a laugh, and I can’t help but grin. His rare smiles always send a burst of triumph through me. Pulling them from his melancholy soul has become one of my favorite activities.
“So glad catering could accommodate you,” he says, holding my gaze for a second too long. Was there a flicker of attraction in his eyes? It disappears too soon when he lowers his gaze to the table.
You’re playing with fire. You can’t have him.
Would he even want me? I know he cares about me, probably even likesme as a person, but he doesn’t have much patience or respect for everything else about my world. He despises Jarvis. He’s never said it, but I can tell by the way he tenses every time we cross paths that he has no interest in pretending otherwise. Jarvis would probably despise him as well if he stepped outside his own orbit long enough to learn other people existed.
A twinge goes through me as I recall the text on my phone this morning.
Jarvis: Hey baby luvin life luvin u see u @ 2 boo got a surprise 4 u
Not sure what that means, but it can’t be good.
I responded with an ice cream cone emoji.
“So, um, I wanted to talk to you about ‘Gray Rainbows,’” I say as casually as possible.
When his gaze lifts to me again, I lose all hope of ingesting my stale biscuit.
Gosh, he’s beautiful.
What is wrong with you?! Why are you acting so weird? You will never survive this tour if you can’t get this crush under control. It’s Val. It’s just Val. Your colleague. Your producer. One of your closest friends…
I clear my throat. Then, take a sip of water to soothe it. “The, uh, turn. After the second chorus.”
His dark brow lifts as he waits.
I swallow hard.
“I think we should maybe add some backing vocals on the second line. Pushed way far back, you know? A ton of reverb. Either a harmony or a run. Ear-candy stuff.”
“Sure. We can try it.”
How does he manage to sound so casual and in control? My entire body is bubbling beneath my skin. Everything in me wants to reach over and brush his warm fingers resting on the table. Trace the intricate tattoos. I love watching those hands skim over the trackpad on his laptop or the keys of a midi controller. So confident and capable like the rest of him. Watching his brilliant mind work is one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen.
This isn’t helping!
“We could even play with a telephone effect or something,” he says. “That song has an EDM vibe, so we might be able to pull off a vocal chop as well.”
Oh, yes. I like that too.
“That could work. Um, also the strings on ‘Too Much.’ I like the melody of the riff, but the sound isn’t quite right.”
His folding chair creaks as he leans back. “Agreed. I already swapped out the symphony orchestra for something darker that has more of a Mellotron feel.”
“Ooh, yes. Perfect. See? This is why I love you.”
Love?! No no no.
He knows I didn’t mean love, right? Because I didn’t—even if my tone was way softer and more serious than it should have been.
His return smile seems pretty standard and safe, so hopefully he didn’t hear my forbidden feelings creeping in.
“That’s my job,” he says in the playful tone I should have used.
“Yup.”
My teeth sink into my lip as the silence returns. Conversation has resumed around us now that the others have accepted my presence. It’s kind of nice being part of the group. Maybe I should spend more time with the crew. They give so much to me. What do I give them besides a job?
I’ll see if we can get everyone a hoodie.
I shift in my chair, still trying to think of safe topics when my foot presses against something beneath the table. Val’s gaze darts to me, and I realize it must be his shoe.
What should happen next is that we pull back with a surprised chuckle. Maybe make a joke about “playing footsies.” We’ve had plenty of incidental brushes while working together, even playful shoves and arm smacks. This would be easy to correct and laugh off.
But I don’t want that. He must not either, because six seconds later, we’re still touching. Never has contact with a sneaker generated the kind of electricity I’m feeling in my leg.
His pretty eyes broadcast so many questions and illicit messages as they search mine from too far away. I can’t tear my gaze away. It’s everything I can do to keep my foot from sliding further up his leg in a sexy, dinner-party ankle caress. (Which is totally a thing people do according to every movie ever.)
Gosh, if this one touch is making me explode, what would happen if I held his hand? Kissed him? Pulled his shirt over his head and finally, finally explored the hard flesh of his?—
“OMG!”
Val stiffens as his attention locks on something behind me. I turn to face a young blond man with a giant Cheshire cat grin and eyeballs about to pop from their sockets.
“Ms. Scott, I am exceedingly honored to make your acquaintance!”
The man bows, and I swear Val mumbles something about Labor Day. His expression isn’t nearly as excited as this person’s.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say with a smile. “Are you a member of the crew?”
Aghastwould be a good word to describe his response.
“No, madam. I am Chad Smith, Administrative Talent Liaison for Reedweather Media vis a vis Sandeke Telecom.”
Oh. Okay. I don’t know what that means.
I return a nod, which is the human-reaction equivalent of an ice cream cone emoji.
“Excellent. Welcome to the tour. We’re happy to have you.”
Probably?
“I hear congratulations are in order.” His smarmy tone has me crossing a look to Val, who shrugs.
“Congratulations?” I ask.
“On the engagement!”
Val chokes on his coffee as I stare in stunned silence. I don’t have a human emoji for this one.
“Yes! Jarvis told us the good news this morning. Wait, was I not supposed to say anything?” he whispers, as if that’s the part of this conversation that could be a secret.
“Um… I don’t…”
Hang on.
Jarvis’ text!
Is he planning to propose today?! No no no no no no no.
I’m still “no-ing” when Val lands a pained look on me.
It’s not what you think! I silently scream back.
He lowers his gaze, making my stomach ache. What is happening right now?
“Ah! It was supposed to be on the down-low, huh,” Chad sighs out. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”
Nope. It’s definitely not.
He makes a zipping motion over his lips, then takes off whistling a tune that would absolutely alert everyone within audio range that he’s hiding a secret. By the shocked attention of everyone in the room, the “secret” is very much out. Before I can even respond, applause and half-hearted cheers lift from the other occupants.
All except one.
“We should go,” our tour manager, Bruce, says in an urgent tone behind me.
I jump when another person grips my arm to guide me up. Steve? When did he get here?
“What… I don’t…”
“Not here,” Bruce whispers at my ear. “Just smile and follow me.”
“But—”
“Now, Larinda. Please,” Steve says.
I’m not sure what else to do except push up from the table and follow the leader like I always do. My entire life is dictated by other people, so it takes nothing to fall in step with the human sandwich escorting me from the room. Except, something doesn’t feel right this time. I’m missing something. Forgetting… Val!
Bruce has my arm in a polite but firm grip. Steve is on my other side, subtly blocking me in. They’re taking me in the wrong direction! I twist back and wish I hadn’t when I catch Val’s tortured gaze locked on me as they lead me away.
“Wait,” I say, tugging against their hold. “I have to?—”
“Seriously, Larry. We have to go. We just got news from the McKinnley camp,” Steve hisses.
Pretty sure I know what the news is.
I’m engaged? I don’t want to be engaged. At least, not to Jarvis.
When I try another look, Val is out of sight. I’ll explain it all later. I will, just…
Val
She’s engaged? Well, that explains the odd breakfast appearance if she came to tell me in person. But that doesn’t explain what happened beneath the table a minute ago.
My foot still tingles from its collision with hers. For those few seconds, I actually thought…
I’m such an idiot.
Anger mixes with the hurt twisting through my chest. Not at her—at myself for thinking for even a fraction of a second someone like Larinda could be interested in someone like me.
What were you thinking? You are on the cusp of reaching your dream and you were about to blow it with an unrequited crush on your boss.
People wait decades for the break I’ve been given at age twenty-three. I really need to lock this shit down because I’ve suffered way too much to lose everything over a pointless crush. Larinda’s label is already looking for any excuse to get rid of me.
“Pretty wild, right? Do you think they’ll get married on tour? Oh! What if it’s at our stop in Duluth?”
I force my attention to Chad and use every remaining ounce of strength to pretend I’m not gutted.
“What’s in Duluth?” I ask. It’s the only one of his questions I can handle right now.
“Um, an aquarium, for one,” he huffs, clearly offended by my lack of Duluth trivia.
Right.
“Have you really never been?” he asks.
“Have you?”
“That’s beside the point,” he mumbles.
I’m not even sure what he’s offended about now.
I lean forward and rest my pounding head on my fists. Larinda is engaged to Jarvis? Just two days ago she made it seem like she’d be fine if they never spoke again. Was she trying to throw me off? Why? Shit, is it because she suspects I have feelings for her?
A fresh wave of anxiety pools in my stomach. Would she fire me for that? It wouldn’t be vindictive, but professionally I can see how it would be hard to work with someone who was in love with you.
In love? Am I?
Shit, shit, shit.
“There’s a bridge too.”
“I’m sorry?” I say, forcing my suddenly very heavy head up.
“A bridge. Duluth has a bridge.”
I stare at him. “Are there cities that don’t have bridges?”
“Probably,” he says with a shrug.
He might be right about that.
“We should get her a gift basket,” he adds. To me. The person who can’t breathe at the moment. “Is she allergic to nuts?”
“I… don’t think so.”
“Perfect. My pre-girlfriend can hook us up. Probably even get us the rare unicorns, if you know what I mean. Brooke knows people, but you didn’t hear that from me.”
I have no clue what he’s talking about or what I’m agreeing to as I nod numbly. Scoring some rare Duluth unicorns sounds wonderful relative to everything else in my life right now.
“It’s freshwater too,” Chad says. “The aquarium, not the nuts.”
“Great,” I mutter.