Chapter 24
twenty-four
Kate
“Finally,” Dani says, as I take my set of keys from the front desk associate. “We’re never on the same floor.”
We all woke up this morning in Orlando, eager to get off the RVs and into the hotel. Well, everyone but Eric and Tyler who chose to stay behind and have breakfast together.
I keep my eyes on Dani and force a smile, but I can feel Josh tense next to me. With everyone on one floor and Dani just two rooms away, we’ll need to be more careful than usual.
We all make our way to the elevators and to our floor, and as Dani continues down the hall to her room, Josh and I steal one last glance at each other before stepping into our rooms. I throw both locks on my door and cross the space to the last obstacle separating me from what I want.
I unlock the deadbolt and turn the handle. As soon as I pull the door between our rooms open, Josh’s hands are on my face, and his mouth is on mine.
“Fuck, I missed you,” he says, pulling his mouth from mine and kissing my neck.
I don’t think I will ever get tired of hearing him say that. That he misses me. Wants me. The way he growls against my skin like just touching me is enough to drive him crazy.
My hands reach for the hem of his t-shirt, and I pull it up and over his head, tossing it to the floor beside us. My shirt is next, followed by the rest of our clothes.
“How much time do we have?” he asks, walking me backward across the room and to the bed, his hands on my hips and his lips on my collarbone.
“An hour,” I breathe.
Josh groans.
“Not nearly long enough.”
His mouth moves to my throat, kissing and dragging his teeth across my skin as we reach the bed. I fall back onto it with a giggle, and he follows, bracing himself above me. He stares at me for a moment before his hands roam slowly over my body.
“You drive me insane,” he murmurs against my skin, lips brushing the swell of my breast. “Every fucking second I’m not inside you, I’m thinking about it.”
I arch beneath him, fingers threading through his hair and guiding him lower. “Then stop thinking.”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. His mouth moves over me, leaving a trail of heat down my body—my neck, my chest, my stomach—kissing and tasting and teasing. When he finally settles between my thighs, he looks up at me and smirks.
“Eyes on me, sweetheart.”
The Orlando air is thick and sticky, the afternoon sun relentless as we step out of the Uber and onto the sidewalk outside the first radio station the guys are scheduled to appear at today.
Josh’s damp waves are tucked under a backwards ballcap, and he’s wearing a worn-out vintage band tee that clings a little too well to his chest.
I try not to stare—I really, really do—but he catches me staring anyway, and when he smirks at me, I fight the urge to pull him into the alley and let him do unspeakable things to me.
God, I’m so addicted to this man that I’m currently considering public indecency.
Three weeks of sneaking around and somehow, it’s still not out of our systems. If anything, it’s worse.
Hotter. Filthier. More intense. I don’t know what I was expecting, perhaps some magical reset after that first night, but no.
Not even close. We still can’t get enough of each other.
Dani and the rest of the guys trail behind us, coffees in hand, yawning and stretching as we head into the building. It’s honestly impressive how they do this every day—living a life that’s equal parts grind, glory, and chronic exhaustion, and wearing it like a badge of honor.
Once inside, we’re ushered into a bright, glass-walled lounge with couches, snacks, and bottled water.
The show’s producer greets us, running down the schedule while the guys settle in.
Dani and I linger near the wall, quietly watching as the guys start chatting with the staff and tuning their guitars for the acoustic set at the end.
I expect Josh to be bouncing off the walls, full of his usual chaotic energy, but he’s not.
He’s standing still as he listens intently to the DJ talk about his daughter’s upcoming soccer tournament.
He asks what position she plays and how long she’s been on the team, genuine curiosity softening his usual anxious edge.
A few minutes before they go live, he makes his way over to me and I run through the talking points. He listens, nodding along, and just before turning to join the others, his fingers brush lightly against mine. It’s barely a touch but it sends a spark through me anyway.
Dani and I settle onto the couch in the corner of the studio, watching through the glass window that separates us.
Once they’re live, Josh is magnetic—funny, sharp, effortlessly charming, and completely in his element.
I love watching this side of him. Getting to see the genuine smile that lights up his face and hear the pride in his voice when he talks about their music.
I have never seen someone so passionate about what they do, and I can’t help but feel proud of him.
As the band wraps up the segment with an acoustic version of “Suspicions,” his eyes find mine while he begins the chorus and my heart goes crazy.
When the mics are off and they start packing up, he sneaks out of the room and over to me as Dani crosses the room to talk to Eric about an email.
“You can’t keep your eyes off me can you, sweetheart?” Josh says, low enough that only I can hear.
“Just remembering what else that mouth can do.”
His grin is contagious, pulling one out of me before I can stop it, and as I feel myself leaning in for a kiss, the panic hits because…we’re in public.
I drop my gaze, biting the inside of my cheek like that will somehow erase the look I just gave him or stop anyone from seeing the way my body practically launches itself at him every time he smiles at me like that.
“Don’t worry,” he says. “It’s really hard for me to keep my hands to myself right now, too.
” He rests his foot on the cushion beside me and leans in, pretending to tie his shoe.
His fingers brush my thigh as he undoes the laces before retying them.
“I hate pretending,” he says, lowering his voice.
“And the next time I touch you, it won’t be subtle, and it certainly won’t be quick. ”
He rises to his full height and winks at me as the rest of the guys file out, ready to head to the next station.
The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur and before I know it, Josh is headed into the arena for sound check with the guys and I’m sitting on the couch in our RV as Dani puts the finishing touches on Tyler’s makeup.
The air around us smells like dry shampoo, setting spray, and the melon candle Dani lit earlier. Music blasts from Dani’s phone, some kind of dance-pop anthem that makes the walls vibrate and the three of us sway in sync as we scramble to be ready on time.
“Alright, babe,” Dani says, tilting Ty’s face this way and that, inspecting her work. “All done.” Tyler grabs the mirror off the floor and checks her reflection, smiling at what she sees.
“You’re a magician,” she says.
“Please,” Dani says, rolling her eyes. “You’re literally perfect. I merely enhance what’s already there.”
“Okay, do we like the black boots or the sparkly ones?” Ty asks, holding them both against her outfit.
“Sparkly,” Dani and I say in unison.
I glance at myself in the mirror and almost don’t recognize the woman looking back at me.
Not because of the makeup or the styled hair, but because she looks…
happy—relaxed shoulders, bright eyes, flawless skin (no doubt thanks to the multitude of orgasms), and a smile plastered permanently across her lips.
My phone vibrates on the couch next to me, and I look down to see a text from Josh.
Josh: Can you grab my case of paint from the kitchen table in my RV? I forgot it.
Kate: Yep, on my way.
“Josh left his paint in his RV,” I say, rising from the couch. “I’m going to go grab that and I’ll meet you guys in the greenroom.” They murmur their agreement as Dani starts packing the makeup back into her bag and Tyler shoves her feet into her new, sparkly Dr. Martens.
Josh’s RV is parked a few spots down from ours, but the oppressive Orlando heat has only intensified under the afternoon sun, and I’m covered in a thin layer of sweat by the time I step inside.
I spot the case of paints and as I reach for it, my eyes focus on an open notebook, the word Her written at the top of one of the pages. I smile and turn it toward me, expecting to read the lyrics to the new song Josh said Eric is writing about Tyler, realizing too late what I’m looking at.
Tulips
Purple
January 9
Coffee black, two sugars
Rom-coms
Picks at her nails when she’s nervous
Hates fingerprints on her laptop and phone screens
Sour Patch Kids
Cherry Coke
Red wine (usually red, but will also order Moscato)
I back away from the table, my heart in my throat and tears stinging my eyes, because this is…
me. My favorite flower. My birthday. The way I take my coffee.
Tiny, insignificant things. Things no one’s ever paid attention to.
Things that Josh, a man plagued with the mental blocks that come with ADHD, has made a point to consider important.
I blink back the tears, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by the weight of being seen.
Not the version of me I put out there for other people, but the girl who fidgets when she’s anxious.
Who loves stupid rom-coms and sour candy, always wipes her screens with her sleeve, and snorts when she laughs too hard.
All this time, I thought I was forgettable. That I was either too much or not enough. But Josh didn’t ask me to be more or tell me to be less. He saw through to the real me and still decided I was worth remembering.