14. Everyone Except Lily
FOURTEEN
EVERYONE EXCEPT LILY
L ily
The bus hums quietly beneath my feet, eating up the miles to the next tour stop as I walk toward the front. Glancing behind me towards the bathroom, Dylan catches my eye and winks, making my stomach flip. I’ve probably complicated things more than I should have, and maybe I should be more worried, but I haven’t felt this alive in a long time.
As I step into the main area, Marcus and Enzo are already there, staring at the ground. A mess from the coffee maker is scattered across the floor, water and coffee grounds everywhere. Jax is pacing nearby, his face hard and shadowed, radiating frustration.
“What the hell happened?” Marcus asks. He eyes me up and down casually, but says nothing. My cheeks heat anyway.
Enzo points to the disaster, pulling Marcus’ attention away from me. “Hit a bump. Everything went flying as Jax was trying to make some coffee. No big deal, but it’s a mess.”
Jax glances at me, a hardness in his eyes that wasn’t there before. It only seems to intensify when Dylan walks up behind me, standing so close I can feel the heat radiating off his skin through the clothes on my back.
“Is everyone okay?” Dylan asks.
“Yeah, we’re fine,” Jax replies, his tone clipped.
Dylan gives my hand a squeeze, a smirk playing on his lips. I glance between the guys, not quite understanding the undercurrent, but worried that it is entirely about me.
“We’ll clean this up, then figure out breakfast. Sound good?” Dylan asks.
Marcus chuckles, running a hand through his messy blond hair. “Sure, let’s clean it up, then by figure out breakfast, I hope you mean beg Lily to cook. If you’re at the stove, none of us are going to make it on stage.”
Dylan laughs, then goes after Marcus to jab him, but he slips away around the mess, grabbing a broom from the side of the fridge and holding it in front of him like a barricade. Dylan relents, holding up both hands as a peace offering and the two of them begin cleaning up the mess. Jax stomps past me, and Enzo “supervises”.
I move to sit at the table, wishing the heady smell of coffee meant that some was on its way to the table, instead of into the garbage. My eyes keep drifting to Dylan. Every time our eyes lock, my cheeks heat and I avert my gaze, only to be drawn back seconds later. The hangover seems to be dull all of my senses except for this attraction.
When everything is finally cleaned up, Enzo hands me a cup of coffee, and I gratefully accept it, hoping it’ll shake the fog in my head. He takes pity on me as I nurse the cup with one hand shading my eyes against the light streaming in from a window and cooks up some pancakes as well. I sigh gratefully when he places a plate in front of me and crowds one side, while Dylan sits on the other, a hand resting on my leg.
“So, what’s the plan for today?” Marcus asks between bites.
Enzo shrugs, staring at his phone like it holds the answers. “It’s a day off. We’ve got time. Maybe we should take it easy, recharge.”
Dylan nods, his hand smoothing a line up and down my thigh under the table. “Sounds good. We could all use a break.”
I sip my coffee, warmth spreading through me. Jax sulks in, glaring at me briefly, before grabbing a plate and sitting as far away from me as possible, with both Marcus and Dylan as a buffer. The guys chat about the next show, but the growing tension at the table is hard to ignore. Jax is too quiet, too brooding, and it’s not long before he finally snaps.
“You know, Lily, you smell like sex.” His voice is low but sharp, slicing through the calm, quiet chatter of the rest of the band.
Heat rushes to my face as all eyes turn to me. The air thickens instantly. “What are you talking about?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady even though my stomach churns.
Jax crosses his arms, his gaze unwavering. “You. Are. A. Hypocrite,” he says, cruelty highlighting the pronunciation of each word. “You were judging me for what happened at the party, but look at you now.”
Dylan’s grip tightens on my thigh. “Back off, Jax.”
“Oh, come on, Dylan,” Jax retorts, his tone laced with venom. “We all know what happened. We are on a fucking bus. Don’t pretend it’s some big secret. You guys had your fun.” His gaze turns from his bandmate to me. “Just don’t act like you’re any better than me, Lily.”
I flinch, the sting of his words sharp. Before I can respond, Dylan stands, stepping between us. “Leave her alone. As much as you want to make everything about you, this isn’t. So, butt the fuck out of our business.”
Jax doesn’t back down. His eyes locked on me, full of something bitter. “It’s not about me? She called me a player, a hypocrite. But look at her. So much for that moral high ground.”
Dylan's grip on my thigh tightened. "Back off, Jax."
Jax scoffed, not backing down. "Oh, come on, Dylan. We all know what happened. Don’t pretend like it’s some big secret. You guys had your fun. Just don’t go acting like you’re any better than me, Lily."
I stayed silent, the pain of his words cutting deep. Before I could find my voice, Dylan stood up, placing himself between Jax and me. "Leave her alone, Jax. This has nothing to do with you."
Jax raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the confrontation. "Oh, it doesn’t? She called me a player. And now look at her. So much for the moral high ground."
Dylan’s fists clench. “She knew the score, Jax. We all do. It’s just a tour fling. We’re all adults here.”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut and my hand flies up like it can stop the hurt. A fling? I thought there was something about our connection. Like something deeper, or the potential for something deeper with our powerful chemistry, but hearing it said like that… it hurts more than I expected. Of course, this was a fling, though. Dylan is a rockstar and I’m… no one. Their handler for this tour. Then nothing.
My throat tightens, but I refuse to let the tears come. Without saying a word, I stand and walk to the back of the bus, my legs trembling as I try to escape the suffocating pressure of so much anger in such a tight space. I can feel their eyes on me, but I don’t turn around. I just need to get away, to breathe.
The bunk area is dim and quiet, the small spaces barely larger than a dorm bed. My bunk feels stark, empty compared to the rest of the band with blank walls and white bedding, but it’s mine. I climb inside and pull the curtain closed, shutting out the world. I press my palms to my eyes, willing the tears away, but they sting at the edges.
I barely hear the knock on the side of the bunk. “Lily, can I open the curtain?” It’s Marcus, his voice gentle.
I clear my throat, aiming for emotionless. “Yeah.”
Marcus slides the curtain back and sits beside me, his blue eyes filled with concern. “You okay, sweetheart?”
I nod, though I’m anything but. “Just... trying to make sense of things.” There isn’t really anything to make sense of. I was being stupid, and I made a mistake, but I’m not going to say that to Marcus and have him tell the rest of the band about my regrets. Dylan was right, we are all adults here, and that means being accountable for my actions even when my feelings are hurt.
He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Lily, none of us have ever had a real relationship on tour. It’s messy. The constant moving, the lack of space... it messes with your head.”
I look up at him, a dull ache settling into my heart. They sent Marcus to explain to me why Dylan didn’t want to date me. “I was just… being silly. You don’t owe me an explanation, and neither does Dylan.”
Marcus surprise me by pulling me into a hug, his warmth and scent enveloping me. He smelled woodsy, like cedar or maybe a fir tree. I was so busy inhaling his scent, trying to identify it, that I almost missed his next words. “It’s not easy for any of us. Even when there’s something real, or the potential for something, it’s hard to make it work. Doesn’t mean it’s not worth it.”
I lean my head against him, processing his words, then choosing my own carefully. “I don’t know that any relationship is ever easy, but both people have to be in the right head space to even try. And that can’t be forced.”
He squeezes me tighter for a second, his low voice soothing. “Just don’t be too quick to write anyone off.”
I pull back slightly, looking up at him in surprise. His face is close, his eyes soft and full of understanding. It sounds like he is encouraging this fling with Dylan. I hesitate prior to responding, my thoughts more muddled than before. “Thanks, Marcus.”
He smiles gently, brushing a strand of hair from my face. Then, without warning, he kisses my forehead, soft and comforting. His nose trails down the side of my face to my cheek, drawing a soft line as his breath fans against my face. He hesitates near my lips like he can’t decide if he wants to make a move or not. When he finally kisses me, it’s hesitant, but tender. His lips move against mine in languid movements, and I’m drawn into the kiss as much as I am with Dylan. It’s a different type of connection, less frantic and frenzied. Marcus kisses me like he could do it for hours and never tire of the connection.
He eventually pulls back, his piercing blue eyes wordlessly searching mine. Marcus seems to find whatever he needs. He squeezes me one more time, then gets up. “Get some rest, if you want to, but you’re welcome to come back and join us whenever. I promise no one else will be a dick to you today.”
I nod in stunned silence from his kiss and his words. I believe Marcus, though. He is the calmest member of the band and seems to be a man of his word. I watch as he pulls the curtain closed between us and listen as his footsteps retreat to the front of the bus. When they fade, I lie down, my mind spinning with everything that has happened since I joined the band. It’s only been a week. How am I going to survive months?