3. On The Road
THREE
ON THE ROAD
L ily
I wake up to a strange, wet, rhythmic sound. Blinking in the dim light of the bunk, I try to get my bearings. The bus hums beneath me, its steady motion soothing, but the sound persists, pulling me further from sleep. It’s coming from the bunk below mine, and I tilt my head slightly, trying to hear it better. My heart starts racing as I realize what I’m hearing—someone is masturbating.
Not just someone. Jax. America’s heartthrob, Jax!
Heat rushes to my face, and I freeze, unsure of what to do. Should I pretend to still be asleep? Should I make a noise to let him know I’m awake? My mind spins with indecision, and I lie there, staring at the ceiling of my tiny alcove, trying to calm my pounding heart. The sounds continue, stretching out for what feels like an eternity, and I do my best to ignore the urge to shift around. Eventually, the wet sounds of his pumps stop, and Jax lets out a low, throaty groan. The sound sends a jolt of heat through me, causing my core to tighten.
I hear movement below, the soft rustling of a curtain being opened. I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, trying to calm my suddenly raging libido. This is not what I expected when I signed up for this job.
After a few more minutes, I gather the courage to climb out of my bunk and head toward the front of the bus. As I step into the communal space, my gaze immediately locks with Marcus, who’s sitting at the small table, shirtless and his hair tousled. He looks up at me with a knowing smirk. I resist the urge to check out his inked arms and bare chest. Apparently, rock stars don’t own many shirts.
“Morning, sunshine,” he teases, his voice dripping with the awareness of the temptation he presents.
My cheeks flush again, but I manage to keep my voice steady. “Good morning, Marcus.”
Breaking eye contact, I glance around and spot Dylan and Enzo lounging on the leather seats with their phones. Dylan is shirtless as well, but Enzo, thankfully, is fully dressed. He looks up and gives me a lazy smile. “Sleep well?”
“As well as can be expected,” I reply, trying to sound casual. Fake it ‘til you make it, and all that.
Dylan chuckles, drawing my attention. “Get used to it. The bus can be a noisy place.”
I nod, trying to brush off the awkwardness of the morning. Noisy is one way to describe waking up to a rockstar jerking off below me, but I would die before bringing that up. “So, what’s on the agenda today?”
“Isn’t that your job to know?” Enzo drawls, not even looking up from his phone.
I open my mouth to respond—though I’m not sure what I would have said—but I’m interrupted by the slam of a door. Jax emerges from the bathroom, his hair damp from a shower, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. His green eyes lock onto mine for a moment, and I feel a confusing mix of embarrassment and attraction. It’s impossible to forget the sound of his groan from earlier.
“We’re heading to Denver,” he says. “Should be there by this afternoon. Sound check at five, show starts at eight.”
“Got it,” I say, mentally noting the schedule. I want to know more about how they spend their day on the bus, beyond the tour schedule I’ve seen. “Anything else I should know?”
Jax doesn’t respond and heads back to the bunks, presumably to get dressed.
Enzo stretches out in his seat, showing off a sliver of his tattoo-covered abs. “Just stick with us, and you’ll figure it out. The day starts slow, but things pick up fast once we’re at the venue.”
Dylan leans in closer, mischief dancing in his eyes. “And if you need help... adjusting, just let me know.”
I roll my eyes, trying to play it off, though the memory of Jax’s earlier activities still lingers in my mind. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, managing to keep my voice unaffected.
To ease the tension—and give myself something to do—I decide to make breakfast. I head to the small kitchen and start rummaging through the fridge and cupboards. There isn’t much to work with, but I find eggs, cheese, and a few vegetables. Omelets it is.
As I crack the eggs into a bowl, I sense someone behind me. I turn to find Dylan watching me with a curious grin. “Need any help?” he asks, his smile widening.
“I’ve got it, thanks,” I say, focusing on the task at hand. “Just thought I’d make breakfast.”
Marcus and Enzo join us, crowding the small space and making it harder to move around. Marcus leans against the counter, his blue eyes fixed on me. “You cook, too? Impressive.”
“Don’t get too excited. It’s just omelets,” I say, trying to keep my tone light despite their overwhelming presence.
“Omelets are a big step up from cold cereal,” Dylan says, leaning over my shoulder to peek at the ingredients. “I’m looking forward to this.”
“Same here,” Enzo adds, his tone more genuine than before. “It’s been a while since we had a homemade breakfast.”
Their proximity makes it difficult to move around the kitchen. I continue whisking eggs and chopping vegetables silently, all the while feeling like the band is closing in and my workplace is becoming smaller and smaller. Marcus’s arm brushes against mine as he reaches for a cup, and I can feel the heat of Dylan’s body as he leans in close to watch my movements.
“You know,” Marcus says in a low voice, “if you keep cooking for us, we might just have to keep you around.”
I roll my eyes, trying to hide my blush. “I’m here for the tour, not to be your personal chef.”
“Still, it’s a nice bonus,” Dylan teases, his breath warm against my ear.
Jax reappears from the bunks, pausing as he takes in the scene. “What’s going on here?”
“Lily’s making us breakfast,” Enzo smirks. “She’s decided to take on the role of our personal chef.”
I scoff, but don’t correct him as I move to the stove. I nudge Marcus out of the way to access the burners. Jax’s expression softens slightly. “You don’t have to do that, Lily.”
“I want to. Just today, though, not every meal,” I say, focusing on the stove. “Consider it a peace offering.”
Jax’s presence shifts the atmosphere. The guys back off, giving me space to finish cooking without hovering. They sit at the table, throwing out the occasional comment or joke. The tension eases as I cook, and I finally serve up the omelets, joining them at the table.
“This is actually good,” Dylan says between bites. “You’re hiding some serious chef skills in that tiny body.”
“Thanks,” I smile at his ridiculous compliment, feeling more relaxed. The band devours their food, barely pausing to breathe, like they haven’t eaten in days.
Marcus leans back in his seat, the first to finish his plate and appearing satisfied. “Alright, Lily. You might survive this tour after all.”
“Maybe, but only more omelets will tell,” Enzo adds with a smirk.
We linger at the table after eating, the conversation flowing more easily. Dylan cracks jokes, earning laughs, and Marcus shares a wild tour story. Even Jax loosens up, chiming in here and there.
The bus rolls along the highway, but I barely notice. For the first time, I feel like I’m getting a real glimpse into their lives on the road. Less snarky comments and more casual, joking banter. Eventually, the guys drift away, and I clean up the dishes before retreating to my bunk to rest.
Once I finish, I lean back against the counter, taking a moment to observe the guys. A TV mounted against the wall is pulled out, visible from the leather seats. Enzo and Marcus sit engrossed in whatever they’re watching. Jax is nowhere to be seen. Dylan, however, has his gaze on me, a playful glint in his eyes.
“Hey, Lily,” he calls from across the bus. “What’s it like being on the road with rock stars? Is it everything you dreamed?”
I shoot him a sarcastic smile. “Oh, absolutely. The smell of stale beer and sweat is exactly what I imagined. So glad I gave up my normal life to cook and clean for you guys.”
Marcus laughs, rising from the couch to join me at the sink, casually throwing an arm around my shoulders. “You’ll get used to it. Who knows, you might even start to like it.”
Enzo stays quiet, his eyes flicking between us with a wary expression. I can’t tell if he’s mistrustful of me, his bandmates, or just the world in general. There’s an anger simmering beneath the surface, and I wonder what’s weighing so heavily on him. Then again, the band’s been through a lot recently.
Choosing to ignore him for now, I move on to cleaning the kitchen counters while Marcus returns to his seat. The guys start ribbing each other, but the conversation feels a little off—like they’re holding back, not fully comfortable with an outsider around, despite their earlier camaraderie with me at the table. Dylan cracks a few jokes, though there’s a hint of something less jovial in his voice. Enzo remains silent, occasionally glancing my way, his dark eyes watching me like a brewing storm.
As the bus continues rolling toward Denver, I decide to retreat to my bunk, hoping to rest before the show tonight. Despite the bravado I showed in front of Enzo, Marcus, Dylan, and Jax, nerves still flutter inside me as I think about the night ahead.