Chapter 19
nineteen
Josh
I’m sitting on the floor of Eric’s suite drinking something blue out of a plastic cup that definitely wasn’t meant to hold this much regret.
I have had way too much to drink tonight. Although, so has Tyler, but she’s somehow completely fine and just smoked Eric in an epic game of pong.
My tongue tastes blue. I stick it out and try to look down, but I can’t see it from this angle to know for sure. I need to find a mirror. Or Kate. Preferably Kate. I lick my lips and realize that I can’t taste her anymore. Just this blue stuff, and it doesn’t taste nearly as good.
I miss her.
“Where’s Kate?” I ask.
“Who?” Max shouts over the music.
“Kate,” I yell back, even though I know he still can’t hear me because he’s across the suite and he just made finger guns at a lamp. I blink. The lamp might actually be a person. I can’t say for sure.
Focus.
Focus.
Okay. Let’s retrace. Kate said she had…emails? Or she was tired?
My fingers are texting her before I realize it.
Josh: you up
Josh: not like that. unless??
Josh: ok that sounded bad i’m drunk ignore me (except don’t)
Josh: i miss ur face. also my tongue is blue. pls advise.
Phone down. Brain spinning. This carpet feels kind of nice. Weirdly soft. Hotel carpets shouldn’t feel this soft. Is this what they mean by “luxury”?
“Dude,” Kevin says, appearing out of nowhere holding two shot glasses like some kind of party genie. “You okay?”
“I’m emotionally compromised and possibly dying,” I say, laying down on the floor.
Kevin nods solemnly and holds out a shot glass. “Want a shot?”
“Yesssss,” I say, rising off the floor like Frankenstein coming to life. I toss back the shot as my phone buzzes on the floor next to me.
“It’s Kate!” I declare. Not that anyone’s listening, Kevin’s already back in the kitchen pouring more shots.
Kate: Oh Jesus. Do I need to come get you?
Josh: yes. i miss you. sad face.
Kate: Did you just type ‘sad face’?
Josh: it was supposed to turn into a sad face
Kate: That’s…not how emojis work.
I set my phone in my lap and tip my head back against the wall. I miss her. Like ache-in-my-chest, claw-at-my-skin kind of miss her. Which is insane because we were together most of the day. I got to see her naked. A lot. And touch her. A lot. It was nice. I want to do it again. All the time.
But now she’s not here and my brain is too loud and this party is too bright and too sweaty and no one smells like strawberries and comfort and whatever that shampoo is she uses that makes me want to bury my face in her neck and never come up for air.
I really do think I might love her.
Shit.
No. Maybe.
Yeah, I do. I definitely do.
She’s just so…Kate. All green eyes and smart comebacks and weird facts about working out and organization.
She keeps lip balm in like, four different places and she always cuts the tags off her shirts because they bother her and she hates it when I touch her laptop screen and she hums this little tune when she’s concentrating that makes my whole ribcage hum back.
I want her everywhere. In the crowd, on the RV, in my bed, in my head. Especially in my head because it’s chaos in here and she’s the only thing that makes it quiet.
I used to think it was those stupid movies. But it’s not. It’s Kate.
And when she touches me, I remember who I am. Not Velvet Shadows frontman, “Sexiest Man Alive” Josh. Not the guy who forgets his own schedule and talks too loud and gets distracted mid-sentence and can’t remember his hotel room number for the fourth day in a row.
Just…me.
She’s going to come back in here and I’m going to be a mess, and she’s going to roll her eyes and pretend like she’s not the sun and the stars and the whole goddamn sky stitched together with freckles and sarcasm.
But I know that she is.
I pick my phone back up and start typing.
Josh: take me away from here and let me be the big spoon so I can bury my face in your neck.
Josh: you smell so good
Josh: you’re so beautiful, kate. you’re beautiful and you smell good and i think i
“Hey there, superstar,” I hear someone say. It sounds like Kate, but it can’t be Kate because I’m texting Kate.
I look up and—holy shit, there she is. My favorite thought made real.
“It’s Kate!” I say, raising my hands into the air. My phone slides out of my hand and onto the floor, the text I was in the middle of typing already forgotten. Kate locks my phone and tucks it into her back pocket and I’m suddenly jealous that my phone is touching her ass and I am not.
“Come on,” she says, crouching down beside me and lifting my arm to drape over her shoulders. “Let’s get you to bed.”
“Yes! Bed! Fuck, you’re brilliant! That will be much better than the floor. Will you be there, too?” I ask, as I try to stand and fail miserably, dragging her down to the floor with me. We land in a heap, my head on her shoulder, her laugh warm against my ear.
“You’re heavy,” she mutters.
“You’re soft,” I murmur back, nuzzling into her neck. “Like a cloud. Or one of those fancy hotel pillows. The good ones, not the scratchy ones they have here. You know the ones I mean?”
“Yep,” she says, adjusting herself under me.
I tilt my head to look at her. My vision is a little swimmy, but her face is crystal clear. It always is. “You’re so fucking pretty, Kate.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Also true.”
She rolls her eyes, but there’s a flush on her cheeks that isn’t just from the heat of the room. She brushes my hair back from my forehead and sighs. It’s fond and long-suffering and everything I don’t deserve but somehow still get.
“Alright, up.” She gets her feet under her and hauls me upright with the strength of someone who’s clearly done this before—probably for someone far less floppy than me—and I cling to her like she’s a life raft and I’m lost at sea.
“You smell good,” I tell her. “Like strawberries and home and sin.”
“That last one is probably the tequila,” she says, guiding me through the chaos of the hotel room while I do nothing to help her, but grin at everyone we pass like I’ve just won an award because I am leaving this party with the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.
“Later, Josh!” someone calls.
I throw up a peace sign. “I’m going to bed with Kate!” I announce proudly.
“To sleep,” Kate shouts over her shoulder, looking mortified. “He’s just going to sleep.”
“Probably,” I whisper to her, and she snorts and god I love her laugh.
When we reach the hallway, the sudden silence covers us like a blanket. I sway slightly, and Kate’s there again, steady and sure, her arm wrapped around my waist pulling me a little closer.
“I didn’t like not seeing you after the show tonight,” I say suddenly, because the words are in my mouth and I don’t know how to stop them.
“Is that so?” she asks.
“I missed you.”
She looks at me for a long moment, something soft flickering in her eyes. “I missed you, too, superstar.”
We shuffle down the hall toward our rooms, and she unlocks the door with her keycard and guides me inside.
“Made it,” she says, helping me sit on the edge of the bed.
I reach for her hand and don’t let go. “Stay?”
She hesitates for a second before nodding. “Let me get you out of your shoes first.”
“Then pants?” I ask, wagging my brows. At least, I think I am. I can’t really feel my face anymore.
She laughs. “Not tonight. Lay back.”
I do as I’m told, flopping dramatically across the bed like a starfish. She pulls the blanket over me, and I catch her wrist before she steps away.
“You’re the best part of all of this,” I mumble, eyes suddenly feeling heavy. “Better than the band. Better than the fans. Better than the cheesesteaks.”
She chuckles before leaning down and pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Goodnight, superstar.”
And even as sleep tugs me under, I feel it—that warm, familiar feeling that only manifests itself when she’s here.
Home.