Chapter 25
ELLIE
I’m shoving things into my bags when there’s a knock at my door. I’m running late. I never oversleep, but I passed out before I could put my phone on charge last night.
“May, it’s me,” Travis coos from the other side of the door.
I roll my eyes and rush to let him in so I can finish getting my crap together. I’m surprised it’s not Calvin showing up to rub it in my face that I was supposed to be on the bus twenty-two minutes ago.
“I know, I’m hurrying.” I fling the door open and sprint to the bathroom to get my toothbrush and makeup.
“It’s fine, everyone’s eating.”
I toss everything into my suitcase and zip it. I haven’t even had time to shower off the events of last night. I’m not one who embarrasses easily, especially when it comes to sex. I like it, big deal. Fuck those double standards.
But what happened in this room last night was much, much worse. I’ve ruined a perfectly innocent boy. Ok, he’s not so innocent, and he’s definitely not a boy, but how am I going to look him in the face? They’re paying me. I’m supposed to be a professional. Stupid, freakin’ urges.
“I can hear you thinking from over here.”
I push to my feet and pull the handle on my suitcase. Travis steps up and takes it, rolling by the door, while I grab my other bag and frantically shove things inside.
“Ellie, slow down.”
“I can’t, I’m late. Tanner is probably cursing me right now. I’m holding everyone up.” I attempt to zip the bag, but it’s stuffed so full, it gets snagged. I grunt, punching it.
“No one cares. I told you they’re eating. You have plenty of time. Here, let me.” He opens the bag, adjusting the crap I crammed inside until it zips.
“Thanks,” I mumble, flopping on the bed and burying my face in my hands.
The bed dips as he sits next to me. “Are you being shy?”
“No.”
“Then why are you hiding? Did you not have fun last night?” He bumps my shoulder, but I refuse to peel my hands off my face.
“Of course I had fun, but what happened was bad. Really bad, Travis.”
“Oh, no, I promise you it was sooo good. My dick is chubbed up right now just thinking about it.”
My head pops up, and I glare at him. “Can you be serious for one second? I am so fired!” I cry. “I’m such a slut.”
He grabs my hand before I can cover my face again and places it on his lap, letting me feel the bulge there. Ok, he wasn’t kidding.
“I’m being dead serious. I’ll probably rub one out later to the memory. You’re not getting fired, Liam isn’t going to say anything. And don’t fucking talk about yourself like that,” he says, his voice turning agitated.
“Let’s just go.” I get up and grab my bag while Travis wheels my suitcase down the hall.
“I mean it, Ellie, don’t talk about my friend like that.”
I stop and face him. I’m confused at first, thinking I said something about Liam, but then he wraps his arm around my shoulders.
“You’re the coolest chick I know, and not just because of what happened last night.
You’re comfortable in your own skin, and the only people who think there’s something wrong with that are people who hate themselves.
You know exactly who you are—a complete badass—and I wouldn’t change a damn thing about you. ”
I swallow, unsure of what to say, so I stay quiet, letting him lead me to the bus.
Facing Liam wasn’t as bad as I thought. It was uncomfortable making eye contact with him when I stepped onto the bus, but we have twelve and a half hours to let the tension and awkwardness seep away.
It seems to be working. Halfway through the trip, we’re all crowded around the living area, watching a band documentary.
It’s rare that we hang out like this together.
Everyone’s always exhausted and desperate to hide in our own corners because we’re in each other’s faces all day, but it’s nice. Even nicer because Calvin’s driving us.
“Can you imagine being on tour in the eighties and nineties? Shit was so much crazier then,” Travis says, stretching his long legs out across the floor, draping one across my thigh.
I jerk away and shoot him a glare. Tanner is sitting at the kitchen table.
Liam and Penn are on the couch, and I’m sitting on the floor, my back resting against the small end table.
Liam shakes his head. “There were no safety precautions.”
“Yeah, fucking sweet right?” Travis grins.
“People throw things at them! Full bottles of beer and water,” Liam says, wide-eyed. “At least now they take the cap off so they can’t just chuck it at you.”
“Yeah, and they only pass out the small bottles, too,” Travis notes, a hint of disappointment coating his words. “Hey, how come none of you play a brass instrument. We’d be so much cooler.”
“Yeah, you should pick that up,” Penn tells him.
“Me? I’m the lead singer, it can’t be me.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t have the look.”
“The look?”
“Yeah, I couldn’t pull it off, but Tanner could.” He nods to Tanner.
My gaze follows, but Tanner has his face buried in his phone, his brows furrowed as he types.
“Hey, dickwad! Get off your phone, we’re bonding!” Travis says.
Tanner glances up, then ignores him.
Travis groans. “Dude, give it a rest. If you ignored her a bit, she’d probably like you more. She has your balls in a vise.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize your one failed relationship qualified you to give advice.”
My gaze flicks to Travis. He never talks about his ex-girlfriend. The only thing I know about her is that she cheated. I got that from Liv, who didn’t seem to know more.
“Fuck you, you don’t know shit.”
“Guys, come on,” Liam interjects.
“Nah, fuck this,” Travis says, jumping up and stalking back to his bunk.
Penn sighs, and Tanner throws his hands up. “He can dish it out but can’t take it.”
I wait a few minutes before going to check on him. He’s lying on his bed, earbuds in, while he taps his thigh to whatever beat is playing.
“You ok?” I ask, stepping on Penn’s bed to boost me up in his line of vision.
His eyes sweep over, then he grabs his phone, pauses the music, and removes an earbud. “What?”
“Are you ok?”
“Yep.” I start to hop down, but he grabs my hand. “Wait, stay.”
I glance down the hall where everyone else is. “That’s probably not the best idea.”
“Get up here.” He hands me the earbud he took out. “Listen to music with me.”
I hesitate only a second before climbing on the bed and popping the earbud in. I lean against the wall, stretching my legs out near his head. He presses play, and Distorted Penguins fill my ears. I smile and he drops his head, closing his eyes.
My body rocks as I get lost in the rhythm, and a minute later, his hand creeps up my leg.
I stiffen, trying to pull away. Someone could walk back here any second, but he squeezes my calf, not letting me move.
His eyes are still closed, but he leaves his hand there, thumb trickling across my skin like a feather. Before long, my eyelids grow heavy.
When my eyes open sometime later, I’m tucked in my bunk with no recollection of how I got here. I blink away the tiredness and pick up my phone, noting the time, 3 a.m., and use it for light as I walk down the hall, passing the guys in their bunks. Everyone is sleeping, but Travis’s bed is empty.
I find him lying on the floor under the kitchen table. It looks like he’s taking it apart or maybe fixing something. What in the world?
“What are you doing?” I ask, keeping my voice quiet, but he still jolts.
“Dammit, May, you scared me.”
“What are you doing?”
He rolls out and climbs to his feet. “Table has a wobbly leg. I was trying to fix it.”
“It’s the middle of the night.”
He shrugs, sliding into the booth. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Again?”
“I...I slept for a while, I just got up and was feeling restless.”
“Oh, that sucks.” I take the seat across from him, studying his face.
His eyes are red, and his cheeks slightly sunken in.
He looks so run-down that it makes my chest ache.
Every day is just soo exhausting. The constant go go go of traveling.
Not to mention the actual performing every other night.
They leave every bit of themselves on the stage, busting their asses to make sure the fans have a great experience.
This tour feels like a hundred years and two minutes all at the same time.
“Do you think...” I trail off, unsure if I want to ask the question on my tongue.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Not nothing, what?”
“Do you think having sex after shows would help you sleep?” A grin spreads across his face, and I roll my eyes.
“I’m not offering. It was a legit question.
” I read somewhere that the main reason rock stars have trouble sleeping is that after a show, their bodies are full of adrenaline.
If they’re not getting that out, they can get restless.
I guess that’s how groupies became a thing.
There was a need, and they filled it. Or got filled…
My eyes narrow, trying to study his. His pupils are a little larger than normal. Suspicion tickles the back of my mind. Is he…on something?
I shake my head. He wouldn’t do that. They all made a pact before the tour.
And I know a lot of musicians probably do the same thing and still fall into the trap, but these guys are different.
They have good heads on their shoulders.
Their love for music outweighs fame and money.
Shit, they don’t even do it for those reasons, even though it’s a great perk.
“If you’re not offering, why are you asking?”
“I mean, you were doing that before, right? Like when the tour first started, was it helping?”
“Doing what?” He looks genuinely confused.
“Having sex.”
He sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Are we really having this conversation?”
“I’m only trying to help.”
“Well, I don’t need your help, Ellie. Unless you’re offering to bend over this table after every show and help me release my adrenaline.”
My shoulders straighten at his tone, cruel and unteasing. “Don’t get snippy with me.”
He drops his head. “I’m sorry.” I nod and climb from the booth. “Don’t go.”
“I’m tired. I’m going to lay down.”
I hear him sigh but he doesn’t try to stop me. I don’t know why I always push him. He’s never going to open up to me.