Maybe (16 page)

I step back and smile slightly. “Yeah, he’ll be there. Plus I should probably start packing.”

His brows furrow. “For what?”

I think I’m afraid of losing him again, too, so the words come out easier than I think they will. “So I can go to Austin with you when you fly out.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

From the Private Journal of Tyler Macy

My therapist says confessions are good for the soul.

I think he’s full of shit.

—M

Chapter Twenty-Five

“Will there be manure everywhere?” My curiosity is genuine. We’ve agreed that I’ll arrive separately to keep up the façade, but I need to know what I’m getting myself into.

Tyler is in the shower of his hotel room, and I can hear how entertaining he thinks my city ways are. The curtain slides back, and he pokes his head out while I’m fixing my makeup. “The animals don’t roam free, but if you brought some rain boots, you’re more than welcome to wear them.”

“Ha.
Ha
. I was just asking.” I’m anxious because this will be the first time I’ll have to pretend to be his friend instead of more. Rachel and Ethan are the only ones who know, and I feel like that’s two people too many.

I was terrified that someone would take a picture of us or something and it would get back to my boss, but the flight was fine, and no one said a word when we walked through the terminal.

An hour later, I’m stepping out of a cab and onto the grounds of a large house on a good-sized lot of land for a tour kickoff party with friends and family. It doesn’t smell as bad as I thought it would.

Hollis is on the porch, drink in hand, when she spots me walking over the gravel. “Hey! You’re here!” She’s up in a flash and hugging me so tight I have to maintain my balance.

“I had no idea you’d be so excited to see me.”

She looks up and grins devilishly. “Why? If they’d sent anyone else, we’d run the risk of having something awful said about us. You’re a sure thing.”

I smile the best I can because I am the worst type of human being right now.

Tyler is already here standing with the other guys, holding a beer in his left hand. Shawn and Cam are gesturing wildly, and Jon is laughing so hard he has his hands on his knees. I can hear the tail end of the conversation when I hit the stairs, and it’s something about Shawn trying to hook up with a girl at a bar but running out of the bathroom once she pulled her pants down. I hear the words “toilet paper balls” and that’s enough for me. They all turn to greet me when I’m in sight, and Tyler sips from his bottle, covering a smile when he nods once in my direction.

“Emily.”

“Tyler.” I’m trying to keep a straight face, but I might be failing miserably.

Hollis steps inside for a minute before she returns with an envelope. “We heard it was your birthday a couple of days ago. A card was all I could do on short notice.”

“You didn’t have to do that.” It’s a nice gesture, and it makes me flush hot. The conversation resumes around me, and I turn toward Tyler while holding the card up. My voice is quiet enough that he has to lean in to hear me. “I didn’t get you a card for yours last year. This makes me feel bad.”

He turns his lips down in a mock frown. “I know. It hurt my feelings. Maybe you’ll remember it this year. You could always tattoo it on your hand.”

“That’s not going to happen. Ever.”

Leaning in, he holds the bottle up to cover his mouth. “If you get a tattoo, it should be a clef note above your—”

“What are you scheming over there?” Jon is all narrowed eyes and pursed lips while he appraises our body language.

“I was just telling her how disgusting the bus is going to be after a week with you three dirty bastards.”

“Just wait. You’ll survive off beef jerky and Cheez Whiz. I’ll show you how to put hot peanuts into coke and drink it before it comes out of your nose. You’ll pee in bottles and only take a shower every five days.” Jon’s teasing. He has to be.

“I’ll keep my dip in bottles, I swear. My socks, on the other hand . . .” Cam is flat-out laughing, and I want to vomit.

Shawn is bleary-eyed and waves a hand at Hollis. “Plus, Mom cleans up after us.”

Hollis is not impressed and replies, “I’m not your mom. If you wanted someone to clean up after you, then maybe you should have kept it in your pants and brought Carrie along for the ride.”

If Shawn is affected by this statement, he doesn’t let on. He just drinks more and grabs Cam to usher him inside so they can be drunk together. This is the last I hear of Carrie for the rest of the night, even when the band is telling stories about their first gigs and how Tyler almost broke his hand rolling a dolly loaded with equipment into the “smallest venue in the entire world.”

Not once during their stories do they mention Addie either. There are no gaping holes. She never happened. They’ve filled the missing bits with memories that erased her from their history. I wonder if, in six weeks’ time, I’ll be the kind of girl who could mess up and be replaced.

Tyler is standing on the hotel bed, legs wide, while I’m trapped by the covers. He has an instant camera, and he’s doing his best to take a picture of me, but I won’t stop moving because I’ve just woken up and he’s an asshole.

“Stop. Where did you even get one of those?”

He appraises the camera and smiles, his blue eyes almost closed from happiness. “I stole it from my mom. Do you know the film for this costs more money than I spend on food for the week?”

“Then stop wasting it!” I’m trying to kick my feet, but he sits on my stomach, and I’m rendered immobile.

“Just one. Come on. Smile at me, Peach. I don’t get to see you like this again until we hit Atlanta. Just. One. You look properly fucked. I want to document this.”

“Properly? I guess. It was
all right
.”

He digs his fingers into my sides, and I’m laughing so hard, I can’t breathe. The camera clicks, and I feel a picture fall to my chest before he picks it up and blows on it, waving it under his mouth. “I’ll remember that.”

This sneaking around is killing me already. He has to go back to his room and then meet up with the band before I join them downstairs. We have to look like we didn’t just spend the night wearing out a perfectly good mattress. I will not be surprised if I get up from the bed and the sheets are ripped.

We get ready, and I sit on the bed to tie my shoes. He’s dressed and standing awkwardly off to my left, watching me.

“What?”

“I’m glad you’re coming.”

“Is that an innuendo I’m supposed to acknowledge, or . . .”

The right side of his mouth lifts, and he steps forward to crouch in front of me. “I’m telling the truth. It sucks, but it would be worse without you. So I’m glad you’re coming.”

When he kisses me, I want to freeze the moment forever. Then his hands slip under my hem, and I realize he doesn’t plan on leaving this room when he’s supposed to. He raises my shirt and the bra cups from my chest until I pull them off and scoot to the edge of the bed, my hair blocking off the light like curtains while he nuzzles and kisses.

“You don’t play fair,” I whisper and sigh at the feel of him.

“I’m not playing.”

“You can’t work me up and then expect me to sit on a bus from Texas to Arizona without . . .”

He’s dipping fingers into my waistband and pulling until I’m on my back once more. The clothes he’s just put on are starting to come off again and so are mine, but I’m tsking at him the entire time. “We’re going to be late.”

He slides up my body and hums, gripping my hands in his. “I’ll be quick. I promise.”

“Tyler Macy. That’s
exactly
what a girl wants to hear.”

We’re late, and Hollis’ head is tilted in my direction while she watches me walk toward the tour bus. “What?” For a second I’m afraid I might have a hickey or something unmentionable on my shirt.

“Is your leg okay? You’re limping a little.”

Tyler turns to look at me, but I’m positive there is delight in his eyes, which are hidden by his sunglasses. I’m excited to see a sucker stem peeking out from his lips but not thrilled to have to lie about my leg cramps.

“I didn’t sleep well last night.”

The son of a bitch laughs.

There’s another bus behind ours, and Hollis has walked over to speak with someone I can’t get a good look at.

“This girl is so fucking hot, Emily. You have to see her.” Shawn doesn’t say it like she’s smart or pretty. He says it like he wants to bend her over a table in the green room.

“Who?”

“One of our openers. Her name is Shae.”

“I called dibs, though.” Cam is wearing a pair of sunglasses, and I suspect it’s because he’s hungover.

“That’s disgusting. You can’t call dibs on a human being.”

Hollis waves and calls me over to the back of the bus. When I near, I can hear her talking with another person, and the voice is very feminine. Turning the corner, I come face-to-face with a Victoria’s Secret model. She’s wearing more than a lace bra and wings, but not much. Her bone structure is awe-inspiring, and when she speaks again, I quickly figure out she’s Brazilian.

Of course she is. Why wouldn’t she be Brazilian? God forbid the record company send these guys on the road with some girl from Oklahoma.

Her accent is killing me, and I die a bit when she turns and gives a shiny-lipped smile. “Hello.”

“Hey.” I feel out of sorts. “I’m Emily from
Breakout! Magazine
. I’m following the Badger for work.”

Hollis nudges my arm, and I finally look at her little button nose and big brown eyes. She knows what’s up.

“Emily Portman, this is Shae.”

“Shae . . .” I wait for her last name, but there isn’t one.

“Just Shae.” She slides her fingers through her dark blond curls and gives a shy smile that looks rehearsed.

Thank you, Madonna. Thank you, Cher. We appreciate the trend.

It’s a lofty goal to think you can just bust out of the gate with only one name, but I’ve seen it done.

My focus is off-kilter because I can’t stop staring at how short her cutoffs are. They angle upward, and her ass cheeks are hanging out. Her tank top is almost longer than the denim. The kicker is the cowboy boots she’s tilting back and forth in.

She’s a Tumblr picture come to life.

I blink quickly and recover with the biggest smile I can manage. “I’m sure we’ll be talking soon.”

I can’t remember the last time I felt jealous of someone. It’s unsettling. All I want to do is tell her that she can’t get within five feet of Tyler. Instead, I excuse myself and walk back toward our home for the next month and a half.

It’s nice, as far as tour buses go. They’re not headlining arenas or anything, so it’s modest but has everything we’ll need for the coming weeks. I hate the thought of sleeping in a bunk, but I choose one as far away from Tyler’s as possible. Being in close quarters with him is difficult enough.

In the back is a larger room where everyone hangs out. They’ve assembled in the time it’s taken me to set up my bunk and grab my laptop. Hollis is standing with her hand on her hip like she means business. They’re all listening, but these guys . . . they’re thirteen-year-olds trapped in the bodies of men in their late twenties. Jon has a napkin in his lap from the food he’s just finished eating, and he’s passing pieces of it to the other three. They’re all trying to discreetly roll little balls to throw at the woman in charge.