away, feeling Matt’s and John’s eyes on her back.
When she came back later in the afternoon, the guys were watching TV in the hotel room that was transformed in the band’s headquarters. So far, only Kevin, Matt, and Tyler had slept in it, but they’d all used the shower. How they got the clerk to agree to such arrangement was beyond her grasp, but she had gotten her own room. It was all she needed to know.
There was some reality show marathon on TV and the boys laughed and criticized at the same time.
“Are you going out for dinner tonight?” Audrey asked, looking at the TV and flinching at the image of a girl wearing hot pink tongues sticking out from a pair of low-rise jeans.
“Forget it,” Kevin said.
“No way, we’ve ordered pizza,” Matt said.
“Snooki is about to get in the hot tub.” Tyler said, and Rob nodded.
She crossed the room toward the bottle of tequila over a corner table and poured herself a shot. John sat on one of the chairs with his heels propped on the table.
“Do you want to have dinner? I’ve got to have a real meal.” Audrey circled her finger around the rim of the glass.
“Sure.” If he was surprised by her invitation, he didn’t show it.
“In one hour, then.” She swigged the tequila, wincing at the burn.
As she walked in front of the TV, Kevin grabbed her by the waist. “Let’s watch Jersey Shore together. We need a female’s point of view.”
She freed herself and squeezed his nose, saying, “over my dead body,” and pushed him onto the bed.
In her room, she laid the dress perfectly flat on the bed, pale pink with tiny black flowers and vines that from the distance looked like spider webs. It had been weeks since she had worn a dress. Jeans and casual tops had been her uniform — the appropriate wardrobe when you hang around a bunch of guys you’re not trying to impress. That night was different because she wanted to impress a guy. Thinking about him had become a torture, with heat scorching her skin every time he walked by. She had given it a lot of thought and had come up with three likely outcomes for the night; one — he would refuse her, she would be utterly embarrassed, and would have to get over him and move on; two — they would sleep together but he wouldn’t want anything beyond that, so she would have to get over him and move on; and three — he would reciprocate her feelings and they would make incandescent love all night. She knew in all of those scenarios, there was still a potential hiccup — the band. Leaving them mid-tour because of an affair gone sour was an outcome she didn’t want to consider.
In the shower, she tried to remember if she had ever been this nervous about going out with a man. Since the night John had fallen asleep in her room in Augusta she couldn’t think about anything else. She closed her eyes and remembered his arms around her, carrying her to the bus when she cut her foot. She could feel electricity between them, but he’d never made a move.
Perhaps the amounts of testosterone and tequila inside the tour bus clouded her perception — Kevin, Matt, and Tyler acted like the Three Stooges. Rob was reserved and focused on doing his job. And John? John was untroubled, serious, and kind. There seemed to be a universe inside him where he got everything he needed — the wisdom and contentment people spent their entire lives searching for.
She fought off a sudden wave of dizziness, but it was too late to bail. So, the least she could do was to bring out her guns, which meant buttering up with lotion, lacy panties — the uncomfortable kind — and smokey eyes. She slipped on the dress and put on her boots, and styled her long brown hair to accentuate its natural curls, put a dab of lip balm on her lips and a drop of perfume behind her earlobes. She blushed at her reflection in the mirror.
• • •
Exactly one hour had passed when she pushed the door open and walked into the room. All gazes fell on her, but she
When she came back later in the afternoon, the guys were watching TV in the hotel room that was transformed in the band’s headquarters. So far, only Kevin, Matt, and Tyler had slept in it, but they’d all used the shower. How they got the clerk to agree to such arrangement was beyond her grasp, but she had gotten her own room. It was all she needed to know.
There was some reality show marathon on TV and the boys laughed and criticized at the same time.
“Are you going out for dinner tonight?” Audrey asked, looking at the TV and flinching at the image of a girl wearing hot pink tongues sticking out from a pair of low-rise jeans.
“Forget it,” Kevin said.
“No way, we’ve ordered pizza,” Matt said.
“Snooki is about to get in the hot tub.” Tyler said, and Rob nodded.
She crossed the room toward the bottle of tequila over a corner table and poured herself a shot. John sat on one of the chairs with his heels propped on the table.
“Do you want to have dinner? I’ve got to have a real meal.” Audrey circled her finger around the rim of the glass.
“Sure.” If he was surprised by her invitation, he didn’t show it.
“In one hour, then.” She swigged the tequila, wincing at the burn.
As she walked in front of the TV, Kevin grabbed her by the waist. “Let’s watch Jersey Shore together. We need a female’s point of view.”
She freed herself and squeezed his nose, saying, “over my dead body,” and pushed him onto the bed.
In her room, she laid the dress perfectly flat on the bed, pale pink with tiny black flowers and vines that from the distance looked like spider webs. It had been weeks since she had worn a dress. Jeans and casual tops had been her uniform — the appropriate wardrobe when you hang around a bunch of guys you’re not trying to impress. That night was different because she wanted to impress a guy. Thinking about him had become a torture, with heat scorching her skin every time he walked by. She had given it a lot of thought and had come up with three likely outcomes for the night; one — he would refuse her, she would be utterly embarrassed, and would have to get over him and move on; two — they would sleep together but he wouldn’t want anything beyond that, so she would have to get over him and move on; and three — he would reciprocate her feelings and they would make incandescent love all night. She knew in all of those scenarios, there was still a potential hiccup — the band. Leaving them mid-tour because of an affair gone sour was an outcome she didn’t want to consider.
In the shower, she tried to remember if she had ever been this nervous about going out with a man. Since the night John had fallen asleep in her room in Augusta she couldn’t think about anything else. She closed her eyes and remembered his arms around her, carrying her to the bus when she cut her foot. She could feel electricity between them, but he’d never made a move.
Perhaps the amounts of testosterone and tequila inside the tour bus clouded her perception — Kevin, Matt, and Tyler acted like the Three Stooges. Rob was reserved and focused on doing his job. And John? John was untroubled, serious, and kind. There seemed to be a universe inside him where he got everything he needed — the wisdom and contentment people spent their entire lives searching for.
She fought off a sudden wave of dizziness, but it was too late to bail. So, the least she could do was to bring out her guns, which meant buttering up with lotion, lacy panties — the uncomfortable kind — and smokey eyes. She slipped on the dress and put on her boots, and styled her long brown hair to accentuate its natural curls, put a dab of lip balm on her lips and a drop of perfume behind her earlobes. She blushed at her reflection in the mirror.
• • •
Exactly one hour had passed when she pushed the door open and walked into the room. All gazes fell on her, but she
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