Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
Eric
? When You're Ready - Shawn Mendez ?
I know she has shit she needs to get done and she can’t be here every night, but damn do I hate the nights Ty doesn’t come to sound check.
It means that I have three, long, miserable hours at the arena without her.
Which, as this tour goes on and we spend more and more time together, is getting harder to deal with.
Checking my watch (again) I’m let down (again) when I realize I still have at least one hour and forty-two minutes until she gets here.
I groan and slide my phone out of my pocket, opening my social media apps to scroll through and see if anyone’s posting about the show tonight. That should distract me for at least an hour.
As I scroll through post after post—everything from girls getting ready together in hotels, people out at bars pre-gaming, and people already in the parking lot tailgating—I interact as much as I can, throwing comments and likes their way and laughing when I get the inevitable “@ericambrose knows I exist?! RIP ME” in response.
The guys find their way back to the greenroom, popping my bubble of solitude, but at least now I won’t have to sit here in silence and think about Tyler.
“Where’s Ty?” Kevin asks, looking around the room and I groan. Well, that lasted all of five seconds.
“Stayed behind to get some writing done,” I say, sitting upright on the couch as Josh settles in beside me. “Where were you guys?”
“Are you kidding? We’re in Philly. You know where we went,” Josh says, and I laugh.
Cheesesteaks. These guys are obsessed with cheesesteaks.
I had one the first time we came here, but they’re not my thing.
I prefer the food on the other side of this state.
I can’t wait to get to Pittsburgh at the end of the tour so I can eat my weight in sandwiches from Primanti Bros. and mac and cheese bites from Sheetz.
We spend the next hour like we usually do—being idiots in the greenroom. Talking and laughing and making jokes while Josh removes his shirt and starts applying his body paint.
As we get closer to show time, Max video chats with his wife and son to tell them good night.
Kevin calls his wife to check in, telling her he’ll call her again after the show.
Josh has been texting a girl he met at a fundraiser a few weeks ago, but I’m not sure how serious he is about her.
Since his first marriage ended in divorce, he’s been as closed off as I have.
Selfishly, I hope he ends up with this one, if only so he’ll leave Tyler alone.
I see the way he looks at her, how flirty they are sometimes, and I know I shouldn’t give a shit, but I do.
I have no doubt that if I hadn’t staked my claim on her at the beginning of this tour, he’d have made a move on her already.
And I also have no doubt that she would have fallen for him.
They all do. Josh is, objectively, an attractive man.
His bright green eyes, perfect smile, and curly hair are like catnip to women.
Add in the fact that he’ll seduce the shit out of you with his voice, has an insane physique, never wears a goddamn shirt and… yeah.
He’s every woman’s dream.
“We should go out tonight,” Josh suggests as he adds some water to a cup of paint, mixes it together, then pours it onto the top of his shoulder.
A layer of blood red paint runs slowly down his back and chest over the existing layer of black paint, and even I can’t deny it looks badass. “We haven’t gone out yet.”
“You sure Philly is the right place to go out in?” Max jokes. “I’d rather not get murdered.”
“Alright then, hotel party,” Josh says. “Have the girls get a couple cases on their way back.”
“I’d be down for that,” Kevin says.
“Eh, why not?” Max agrees.
Tyler, Kate, and Dani enter shortly after the decision is made, and Josh immediately tasks them with obtaining copious amounts of alcohol.
Dani makes a list on her phone while Tyler leans over Max’s shoulder as he scrolls through the most recent photos of his son, and Kate stands in the corner of the room looking anywhere but at Josh.
The poor girl has probably already had enough of his nonsense, and we’ve only been on the road two months.
“It’s time,” Caleb says, poking his head inside the greenroom. We all stand and head toward the door.
“Hey,” Tyler says, grabbing my wrist, holding me back as the others file out into the hallway. My eyes fall to the point of contact before meeting her gaze. “You alright? With tonight’s plans, I mean.”
I smile.
“You worried about me, Sunshine?” I ask.
“Well, yeah,” she says, like it’s the obvious answer. My heart tugs in my chest.
“Yes, Ty. I’ve been around alcohol a lot over the years. I’ll be fine.” She breathes what I can only describe as a sigh of relief, and I grin.
“Good, because I really didn’t want to have to chew them all a new one for being inconsiderate pricks.” I snort a laugh, and we stand there for a beat, staring into each other’s eyes, Tyler’s hand still holding onto my wrist.
“Ty,” I say.
“Yeah?” She asks, sounding a little breathless.
“The show.”
Her eyes go wide, and she drops my wrist.
“Shit, yeah,” she says, looking away and tucking her hair behind her ear. “Sorry.”
I walk around her and follow the winding halls to the stage, smiling like a fucking idiot the entire way. I will break through her walls before this tour ends.
Mark my words.
****
Tyler has been matching Josh shot for shot, and damn can this girl hold her liquor. Josh has at least fifty pounds on her, but he’s gone. Completely shitfaced. While Tyler is still walking straight lines back and forth across the room.
“How the fuck?” Josh says, trying (and failing) to walk the same straight line Tyler just did, giggling like the drunk idiot he is. “How are you doing this?”
“Black magic,” Tyler says, playfully wiggling her fingers at Josh, who topples over onto the floor. We all laugh, and Tyler’s eyes meet mine from across the suite.
They’ve been doing that a lot tonight. Like she’s checking in on me without saying a word, and the idea that she cares about me at all has my heart beating erratically.
She crosses the room to where I’m sitting at the bar in the kitchen and leans against the counter next to me. I turn in my seat, positioning my legs on either side of hers, caging her in. I tighten my grip on my cup full of Coke, fighting the urge to put my hands on her hips and pull her closer.
“How in the hell are you still standing right now?” I ask.
“A magician never reveals her secrets,” she jokes, winking at me before leaning in closer.
“But, if you must know…” she says, her warm breath on my ear sending shivers over my body.
I nod. “Smell this,” she says, holding the plastic cup of the Coke she was using as a chaser up to my nose.
I breathe in and the unexpected smell of liquor burns my nostrils. I lean away, laughing.
“You little cheater!” I whisper. She shrugs, a small smile growing across her mouth. “Why aren’t you drinking?”
“I’ve had a few, but I don’t have any intention of getting drunk tonight,” she says, stretching in front of me and dumping the contents of her cup down the sink on the other side of the counter.
I try to ignore the way her body is stretched out before me, her shirt riding up her torso, showing a peek of the soft skin I’m still desperate to touch.
“Why not?”
“Because drunk Tyler is a little slut, and while I may be contractually obligated to behave myself around you, I know I can’t trust her.
” I laugh, trying to ignore the images of Tyler and me that are currently flashing through my mind as she cracks open another can of Coke and pours it into her cup before sitting down beside me.
I wonder if I’ll ever get to have her like that again—completely uninhibited and at my mercy.
“Is this what it used to be like?” she asks, nodding to the chaos unfolding around us. Most of our road crew joined us after loadout, so it’s now a full-blown party. “Back in the day, I mean. Partying all night before moving on to the next show?”
“Sometimes,” I say. “Usually only if we had a few days off in between stops. We learned pretty quickly that you don’t want to get fucked up and then play a show the next day. All that noise is far less fun when you’re nursing a hangover.”
She snorts a laugh, and the sound makes me smile.
“Come on,” she says, hopping down off her stool. “The table’s open. Come play soda pong with me.”
“Soda pong?” I ask.
“Well, you don’t drink, and I want to kick your ass at beer pong, so let’s meet in the middle.” I laugh and stand, leaning in close.
“You do understand that I basically did this professionally?”
“One,” she says holding up a finger between us. “You just admitted you didn’t party hard, and two,” she holds up another finger. “I was in a sorority. I majored in beer pong.”
“You majored in English writing,” I say, and she stills.
“You…remember what my major was?” she asks.
“Of course I remember what your major was.”
She swallows hard like she’s nervous, but then collects herself, her newfound confidence returning.
“Fine, Mr. Know-It-All, I minored in beer pong.”
I raise a brow.
“Care to make it interesting then?” I ask. She flashes a devious grin in my direction and crosses her arms over her chest, ready for whatever I throw at her. Or so she thinks.
“If I win,” I say, leaning in close and lowering my voice. “I get to kiss you.”
“What?” she asks, leaning back a bit to look up at me, her eyes wide in surprise.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about the way you kiss since the night we met,” I admit. “I’m dying to kiss you again.”
She swallows hard, my eyes tracking the way the muscles in her throat flex with the movement, my fingers itching to wrap around it again.