Chapter 11 #3
“I mean, I knew them on a surface level—all good guys.” I pressed my lips together, hoping to signal an end to the subject of the boys’ personalities, habits, fears, and dreams. And I knew all of those.
Jade slid a glance my way while tapping on her phone case. “But Conor was your favorite.”
She didn’t even frame it as a question.
I lifted my gaze to the ceiling of the bus. “Oh, I don’t know. I liked all of them equally.”
“Hmm, your father’s not the only diplomat in the family.”
An ear-splitting whistle ripped through the bus, and Jermaine hopped onto a stationary chair to make his announcement.
“Quinton’s going to be pulling into the hotel shortly.
Clean up after yourselves. Turn off the TVs.
You can leave stuff on the bus if you like but take what you need for the show.
Quinton will be parking out back behind the structure.
If you need anything from the bus text me or Noelle, we have keys, and we can reach Quinton. ”
Jermaine’s words acted like a prod, and everyone clicked into action.
I swept up my soda can along with a few others and dropped them into the recycling bin. Then I popped my head into the upper level. “Someone wanna grab my overnight from the end of my bunk?”
“Already got it.” Conor waved his arm in the air.
Why did he have to keep doing things for me? I was the publicist here. I should be doing things for him—like brushing that lock of hair from his eyes, like smoothing his wrinkled T-shirt over his chest, like...
“You wanna take it?”
My gaze flicked up from where it had wandered below his belt. “Take it?”
He held up my carry-on. “The bag? I mean, I can bring it down for you.”
God, no. He didn’t need to be hauling my luggage around, too. I cleared my throat and climbed the rest of the stairs. “It’s not that heavy. Toss it over here.”
Conor set the bag on the floor of the bus. “It’s not heavy to sling over your shoulder, but it’s a lot to carry downstairs, especially those narrow ones. I’ll take it.”
I spun around and hit the bottom deck, as the rest of the musicians and dancers filed past me. I yelled to Conor, “What’s taking so long?”
He answered with a muffled voice. “Somebody left some trash. Just collecting it.”
“Leave it.” I tapped my toe as Quinton, the driver fired up the bus to move it around the back. “Jermaine will have someone clean up before our next trip.”
Conor staggered down the steps with my bag, his bag, a backpack, his guitar, and a white trash bag dangling from his fingertips. He dropped it next to the other trash bags. “I don’t wanna get in trouble.”
“Let me get this now.” I took the strap of my bag from him, our fingers tangling for a second as he held onto it.
“I’ll put it on the curb for you.”
I wasn’t going to fight him for my bag, so I thanked Quinton for the ride and jumped from the bus. As I landed on the cement, a million flashes went off as paparazzi crowded the side entrance to the hotel.
Who called them? I was not above alerting the paps to tour events—that was part of my job—but we didn’t need cameras in our faces after a three-hour bus ride. Conor was the only act on the bus, anyway.
Conor joined me and placed my bag at my feet. “There ya go. I draw the line at hauling it into the hotel for you.”
Snap. Snap. Snap.
Conor ignored the cameras—he’d had enough practice—but I put my hand over my glasses, stumbling a little against Conor.
“There you two are. Last ones off the bus...as usual.”
My head jerked up at the sound of Ashley’s sweet voice. Had she not seen the pictures from the concert yet?
She floated toward us, smiling for the paps, her hands held out to Conor. “I missed you.”
Conor tensed beside me and when he didn’t make a move toward Ashley, she changed course and wrapped me in a hug. “Thank you so much for taking care of...everything, Noelle.”
“Ashley, Ashley. Are you and Conor serious?”
She released me from her death grip and brought her hands together. “It’s still pretty new. We’re still feeling our way.”
“Are you and Conor staying in the same room, Ashley?”
She fluttered her lashes and actually managed a blush. “We all have our own rooms at the hotel.”
“Noelle!”
As a hot flash seized me followed by cold dread dripping down my spine, I gripped the handle of my suitcase. Me? How did I get involved in this circus?
“Noelle, are you and Conor working closely together on the tour? Is that why you, instead of Ashley, rode the bus with him?”
Me instead of Ashley? She didn’t want to ride the bus.
I shot Conor a look that said, do something now.
The Conor Flynn wax figure finally came to life, and he moved toward Ashley, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “Noelle is doing her job keeping this tour running smoothly, and we hope you all come to the show tomorrow night. Right, Ashley?”
Ashley glanced down as she threaded her fingers through Conor’s. “Absolutely and we all love Noelle.”
“We have to get settled. Thanks for coming out.” Conor steered Ashley toward the side door of the hotel, a bellhop holding it open for them, his eyes wide.
As the paparazzi shuffled away, Ashley cranked her head over her shoulder and gave me a wink.