Chapter 2
Chapter Two
IRELAND
An hour after Soul Obsession finishes their rehearsal, I'm pacing holes in the carpet in my hotel room while Brielle watches, trying her best not to laugh at me. Shelby is dealing with some last-minute travel snafu for the next stop. And I am stressed.
I thought I'd have to wheedle my way into Crue Blake's good graces before he agreed to an interview. Instead, he just freaking appeared in front of me like some hot rock god and offered. This is not how my day was supposed to go.
I'm looking a gift interview in the mouth, but I can't help it. I've had a crush on him since I was a kid. His posters used to hang on my wall. When they went on hiatus ten years ago, my little heart was broken. I'd never even gotten to see them in concert.
Now, they're back together, and I'm here, living out every fangirl's dream.
And Crue Freaking Blake wants to talk to me. Unless I'm completely wrong and the monster in his pants just does that all the time, I think he may want to do more than that.
Stress? Don't know her. I am her.
Not that it matters. He'll change his mind as soon as he realizes I'm still clinging to my V-Card.
A casual hookup on tour is one thing. They probably do it all the time.
But getting entangled with a virgin who hasn't even been kissed?
That's a whole different ballgame. One I'm sure he'll tag himself out of as soon as I spill the messy beans. If we even get that far.
I mean, maybe he calls everyone baby and steals their phones.
Right. And maybe he's just egomaniacal and that's why he changed the background on mine to a picture of him.
Ha. Crue is a lot of things, but he's never been full of himself.
"I should change," I mumble. My emerald-green skater dress makes my eyes pop. And my boobs look fantastic in it, but I should at least project the appearance of a professional for this interview, right? Right. The dress, while adorable, doesn't scream, 'I'm a professional baddie.'
"Don't you dare," Brielle says. "You look beautiful."
"I look like a college kid."
"Uh, two months ago, you were in college." She eyes me like I'm crazy. "You graduated with honors, Ireland. And you just finished an internship for one of the biggest music publications in the United States. You weren't in a boring suit when you did any of that."
She has a point. But I wasn't interviewing the hottest freaking man alive when I did any of that, either.
So…she has a moot point. I twirl on my heel, heading for the suitcase I dragged onto the second bed in my room earlier.
I don't even know why hotels have closets.
Anyone who has time to unpack and repack on vacation is not living their best life.
I barely make it two steps when my phone rings.
My heart instantly slams against my ribcage.
For a split second, I consider not answering.
I don't know why! Panic pumps through my veins instead of blood and it seems like a reasonable thing to do.
But then I remember how much I want this interview…
and how much I liked it when he smiled at me.
And I yank my phone out of my pocket like I'm in a race.
"Hello?"
"Ireland." My name rolls off his tongue like the notes of a seductive song. "Where are you, sweet girl?"
Sweet girl. Oh, he's good at this charming rockstar thing. Way too good.
"My hotel," I say. "Where are you?"
"Probably down the hall from you." The smile in his voice makes my stomach flutter. "Where do you want me? Your room or mine?"
Stretched naked across a bed, please.
I glance around my tiny room. My clothes are strewn over the back of the chair. My toiletries litter the top of the desk. An empty Starbucks cup sits beside the mini-fridge. It's a hot damn mess.
"Yours. Definitely yours," I hurry to say. There's no way he's stepping foot in here with it looking like a tornado blew through. My panties are out and everything! "You aren't allowed to see my room yet."
"Yet?"
"That's not what I said," I lie.
His wicked laugh rolls down the line, turning my nipples to hard points. "I'm going to let you pretend that isn't what you said for now," he chuckles. "Thirtieth floor, room 3811. See you in five."
"Wait. I—"
He disconnects before I can tell him I need to change.
I pull the phone away from my ear, huffing, "He's bossy." Except I say it with a smile so it doesn't sound nearly as annoyed as it should.
"Asher says he's always been that way." Brielle laughs quietly. "He says Crue means well. He just doesn't like not being in charge." Her laughter fades. "They didn't have any control for a long time."
"I know," I whisper, my heart pulsing with empathy for them. As a kid, I don't think I realized how much they went through. To me, they were just these incredibly talented guys who also happened to be gorgeous.
I don't think anyone really understood back then just what it was like to be a boy band or to be a worldwide phenomenon.
But the curtain has been pulled back on the music industry over the years, and it's ugly behind the scenes.
Especially for bands and artists that shoot to superstardom as teenagers.
Everyone wants to profit. Very few want to protect.
I'm glad things are different for the guys this time around. They deserve to do it their own way at least once. They earned that much. And it's what the fans want for them, too.
Brielle crawls off my bed, stretching. "You better go before he comes looking for you. I'm going to find Asher."
Right. No time to change.
I spin in a circle, looking for my laptop bag.
Brielle spots it before I do. She retrieves it from under the desk, holding it out to me.
I run my fingers through my hair, trying to tame the unruly strands—not that it'll do much good.
My hair does what it wants when it wants.
And then I inhale a deep breath. "Wish me luck. "
"I don't think you need it," Brielle says, blowing me a kiss as she ducks out of the door ahead of me. "But break a leg anyway."
"Don't say that," I groan, turning toward the bank of elevators at the opposite end of the hall. "I might actually break one."
Brielle's laughter floats after me as she heads down the hall toward her room…which is basically the room she's sharing with Asher at this point. I can't believe they're together! I mean, I can believe it because Brielle is amazing. Why wouldn't Asher fall for her? But I can't believe I missed it!
I didn't get to join the fun until this morning. Thanks to my internship, I've missed the first half of the tour. Shelby has been keeping me updated, but it's not the same. I missed all the good parts!
It's been a whirlwind for my sister and our friends, that's for sure.
Resa is glowing. Brielle is happier than she's ever been.
Chastity has a permanent smile on her face.
Shelby swears her relationship with Jameson is fake, but, well, I know my big sister better than anyone.
She's lying to herself and has been since the beginning.
Besides, New York kind of changed everything.
As it turns out, even from half a continent away, I still know her better than she thinks I do.
Never in a million billion years did I think following Soul Obsession on their reunion tour would turn out like this for the people I love most, but I'm so freaking happy for them.
They're madly in love. I'm getting the interview of a lifetime. Life is good. Actually, it's great. If my journalism professor could see me right now, he'd lose his mind.
I giggle at the thought, pressing the button for the elevator. I peek over the balcony, watching water spray up from the fountain in the lobby. The hotel is seriously nice. Way better than my tiny little dorm room at Northwestern or the room I've been renting for the last couple of months.
The doors of the elevator slide open, and I bounce inside, a bundle of raw nerves and anxiety. I'm going up to Crue Blake's room. As soon as the doors slide closed, I bust a move, dancing in the elevator like a crazy person. I don't even care if security is watching me right now.
My first interview is my dream interview. No one is dulling my shine today.
"Jesus."
I squeak, spinning around so fast my laptop bag smacks me in the knee.
It buckles and I stumble, nearly falling on my face.
I catch myself on the handrail, meeting Crue's gaze.
Humor dances in his hazel eyes, softening him.
For just a moment, I see traces of the boy he used to be…
the one who drove the whole world crazy with his crooked grin and insane talent.
The man he grew into is something else altogether.
Young Crue was a mere hint of what this man would become.
There's a hardness to him that was never there before.
He's all sex and sin and control, with tattoos climbing up his neck and down his arms. I don't know what story they tell, but they're etched into his skin like armor.
I think he hides behind them, holding the whole world at bay. Just like he's hidden from the world for the last ten years, disappearing to Nashville and pretending the seven years before that never happened. He's an enigma, a beautiful puzzle. And he's haunted my mind for far too long.
Now, he's haunting my elevator too.
"Hey, sweet girl." He smirks, looking me up and down.
"You're supposed to be in your room."
"Missing this show?" His smirk grows. "Not a chance, éire."
"The doors are supposed to be closed."
"You didn't feel the elevator stop?"
"I was busy." I narrow my eyes when his lips twitch. "You better not be laughing at me, Crue Blake. Not all of us are basically choreographers, you know."
He thrusts his arm out, halting the elevator doors as they start to slide shut. "Basically a choreographer?" One brow rises. "Baby, I hate to break it to you, but I'm not basically anything."
"You worked on My'khail's first tour."