of my head against the stall door.
Shit.
Fuck.
Damn.
“What?” I pretended to be appalled. “Hell, no. We just don’t get along. No story. I just think he’s gross.”
Again, she chuckled. I peeked through the gap in the door to see her leaning against the countertop waiting for me.
“I think he’s hot.” She giggled.
“You think everyone’s hot.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Well, it’s obvious you guys don’t like each other. I just assumed you’d fucked, and it ended badly or something.”
She was so close to the truth it was suffocating. But I didn’t let on. Instead, I laughed it off.
“Hell, no … I wouldn’t let that sick fuck touch me. Seriously, there’s no story. I just don’t like him.”
“Well, squash that shit. The girls are starting to talk about it, and if we’re going to be on tour with Blow Hole, we need to keep the peace.”
I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Good. Are you almost done?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’ll be out in a bit.”
“Okay, well, I’ll see you out there,” she said.
The music flowed into the bathroom as she opened the door and went quiet again when the door closed behind her.
If what she was saying was true, and the girls were starting to notice that things were weird between Chet and me, then it was time I stopped making my hatred for him so obvious … even if I had to pretend to be his friend. Whatever it took, I’d do it if it meant I could get through this tour without any issues.
Thirty minutes later, I left the bathroom feeling as though I could breathe. I grabbed a drink at the bar and made my way back to the VIP area. I spent the rest of the night in the corner downing shot after shot with the girls. The drinks went down smooth after a while, and slowly, my worries began to melt away.
The night ended earlier than usual. We were exhausted—our days full of sound checks and our nights full of shows. I was never so happy to return to my quiet room where I could snuggle in my bed and recharge. I could remove everything and lay around naked in peace and quiet. It was going to be amazing.
We split in the lobby, Constance returning to a shared room with her husband, Tiny, Lena and Mia going out for an early breakfast, and Twiggy going for a new tattoo with Finn and Zeke.
A couple in the elevator made out as I rode the lift to the tenth floor to my room. The walls closed in on me as my buzz fizzled through my brain. I’d definitely drunk too much, but considering my circumstances, it made sense. The night had been long, and as much as I tried to stay away from Chet, I could still feel his eyes on my body—undressing me—caressing me.
When the doors opened, fresh air filled the elevator, and I took a deep breath before stepping out. My legs wobbled as I passed door after door until I was standing in front of my room. I slipped the card into the lock, and the green light flashed with a click. Pressing the knob down, I opened my door and prepared to enter when something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye.
It was Chet.
He was standing in the center of the hallway about ten doors down from me. He wasn’t moving, and he was alone. His body was stiff; his hands perched on his hips. He’d been acting strange all night, but something was definitely off with him.
I closed my door and started toward him. He was facing me, yet he never looked at me. Instead, his eyes moved wildly around the hallway in confusion. Once I was close enough, I could see that sweat covered his face, and he was obviously panicking. The pulse on his tattooed neck beat furiously; making the black and red dagger inked on his skin look like it was stabbing him over and over.
“Chet?” I questioned softly.
He looked like he was seconds away from running away. Fear and anguish transformed his usual carefree persona into something completely different.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at me. His
Shit.
Fuck.
Damn.
“What?” I pretended to be appalled. “Hell, no. We just don’t get along. No story. I just think he’s gross.”
Again, she chuckled. I peeked through the gap in the door to see her leaning against the countertop waiting for me.
“I think he’s hot.” She giggled.
“You think everyone’s hot.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Well, it’s obvious you guys don’t like each other. I just assumed you’d fucked, and it ended badly or something.”
She was so close to the truth it was suffocating. But I didn’t let on. Instead, I laughed it off.
“Hell, no … I wouldn’t let that sick fuck touch me. Seriously, there’s no story. I just don’t like him.”
“Well, squash that shit. The girls are starting to talk about it, and if we’re going to be on tour with Blow Hole, we need to keep the peace.”
I nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Good. Are you almost done?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’ll be out in a bit.”
“Okay, well, I’ll see you out there,” she said.
The music flowed into the bathroom as she opened the door and went quiet again when the door closed behind her.
If what she was saying was true, and the girls were starting to notice that things were weird between Chet and me, then it was time I stopped making my hatred for him so obvious … even if I had to pretend to be his friend. Whatever it took, I’d do it if it meant I could get through this tour without any issues.
Thirty minutes later, I left the bathroom feeling as though I could breathe. I grabbed a drink at the bar and made my way back to the VIP area. I spent the rest of the night in the corner downing shot after shot with the girls. The drinks went down smooth after a while, and slowly, my worries began to melt away.
The night ended earlier than usual. We were exhausted—our days full of sound checks and our nights full of shows. I was never so happy to return to my quiet room where I could snuggle in my bed and recharge. I could remove everything and lay around naked in peace and quiet. It was going to be amazing.
We split in the lobby, Constance returning to a shared room with her husband, Tiny, Lena and Mia going out for an early breakfast, and Twiggy going for a new tattoo with Finn and Zeke.
A couple in the elevator made out as I rode the lift to the tenth floor to my room. The walls closed in on me as my buzz fizzled through my brain. I’d definitely drunk too much, but considering my circumstances, it made sense. The night had been long, and as much as I tried to stay away from Chet, I could still feel his eyes on my body—undressing me—caressing me.
When the doors opened, fresh air filled the elevator, and I took a deep breath before stepping out. My legs wobbled as I passed door after door until I was standing in front of my room. I slipped the card into the lock, and the green light flashed with a click. Pressing the knob down, I opened my door and prepared to enter when something caught my attention out of the corner of my eye.
It was Chet.
He was standing in the center of the hallway about ten doors down from me. He wasn’t moving, and he was alone. His body was stiff; his hands perched on his hips. He’d been acting strange all night, but something was definitely off with him.
I closed my door and started toward him. He was facing me, yet he never looked at me. Instead, his eyes moved wildly around the hallway in confusion. Once I was close enough, I could see that sweat covered his face, and he was obviously panicking. The pulse on his tattooed neck beat furiously; making the black and red dagger inked on his skin look like it was stabbing him over and over.
“Chet?” I questioned softly.
He looked like he was seconds away from running away. Fear and anguish transformed his usual carefree persona into something completely different.
He didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at me. His
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