“We have time to decide. We’ll have to wait for the driver to show up, and I’m not sure when that will be.”
Nash glances behind him between me and Darius. “Somewhere private,” he answers. “Where we won’t have to worry about fighting off fans.”
I owe that man some cuddles, it’s clear he’s missing me. It’s not like things were at the beach house.
“Let’s take The Storm a little north. I know there has to be a good campground we can stay at. I’ve heard upstate New York is beautiful,” Darius suggests.
“That would get us the privacy we would like if we’re careful,” Nash says, surprisingly agreeable to the idea.
“No distractions,” Keaton adds, giving his approval.
“Nash did commit you to writing new songs,” Blake points out.
“Us,” Nash corrects. “It’s not only on Raina. I plan on making sweet music with our girl.”
Darius coughs, covering up the end of Nash’s statement as we pass a roadie. When I look at him, he winks at me, making my heart flutter and my stomach flip. He protected my relationship with the guys so quickly, without a second thought, probably getting his suspicions confirmed in the process.
We make it to the end of a hallway, where a security guy nods our way and says something into an earpiece. He’s the serious kind, not giving a smile, or even a hint of breaking his composure. His type is my favorite. I actually feel like I won’t get accosted by fans when someone with his demeanor is around, and I can only hope whoever is on the other side of the door is the same.
After a moment, he opens the door, and it’s clear the security team was prepared for our exit on the other side. It seems to be in total order, none of the lingering fans that are typical, only a couple of venue photographers with staff written in large block letters on their backs.
A sigh of relief washes through me. I really was worried after Alyssa ran off the way she did. We climb onto the bus, Nash flopping onto the couch first thing. “Cuddle pile!” he cheers in his overly obnoxious way.
Before I realize he’s doing it, Darius climbs onto the driver’s seat and turns the keys that were hanging in the ignition. “What are you doing?”
He glances at me from over his shoulder. “Getting us out of here. You don’t trust your old manager, which means I don’t either. Let’s not risk it.” He shrugs and adjusts the seat before checking the side mirrors.
“You know how to drive this beast?” I ask, a little dumbfounded. I wouldn’t in a million years try to navigate this thing down a deserted country road, much less the streets of New York City.
“I’m a man of many talents. You might learn some of them if you get to know me.”
I frown, knowing he’s right. I haven’t even attempted to be friendly, haven’t asked him anything about himself, in fact, I’ve done everything I can to avoid him when possible.
He meets my gaze and winks. “Find yourself a seat, sweetheart. I don’t want to be known as the man who damaged pop star royalty.”
Nash sneaks up behind me, and suddenly his arm wraps around my waist, tugging me against his chest. “I wasn’t kidding about the cuddle pile. You’re not escaping this time.” He drags me back to the couch, falling into a pile of decorative pillows mixed with pillows from the bunks.
Keaton moves in, sitting on the edge of the couch near my feet, his expression more relaxed now that we’re all together. There’s something grounding about him just being close, and I sink further into the cushion, letting out a soft breath.
“Blake, you good back there?” Darius calls from the front.
“I’m good,” he answers, appearing from the back bedroom carrying a large soft blanket from my bed. He settles on the other side of Nash, leaving me with my three guys. This is how I want to finish off every night of performing, simply relaxing with myfavorite people. All that’s missing is Tristan. I don’t understand how we haven’t been able to find any trace of him.
The bus shifts as Darius puts it in gear and takes his foot off the brake. We’ve probably only made it 50 feet before we’re jerked as he slams the pedal to the ground, stopping us. “Bloody hell.”
A second later we hear the cheers of a swarm of fans, I can only imagine they are gathering around the bus. I know mob mentality isn’t the smartest, but it always baffles me when this happens. What do they think will happen? I’ll let some of them on the bus? I’ll come out and see them? It doesn’t make sense.
“Don’t worry, security is already working on wrangling them. I hope we get a clear path before more show up though,” Darius updates us.
I sigh, leaning my head back against Nash’s shoulder. The weight of the day, the show, and the constant buzz of being in the public eye starts to creep in. I try to ignore the growing noise of the fans outside, but it’s hard when all I want is peace for a few minutes. Just a little time to breathe without the pressure of performing.
Darius really nailed it when he suggested we escape to the wilderness. No people. No responsibilities. A chance to unplug and focus on the music… it sounds absolutely perfect.
Nash brushes a hand through my hair, his fingers tracing lightly down my neck. “Relax. They’ll handle it.”
“I know, but it doesn’t make it any less exhausting.” I close my eyes for a moment, wishing for a world where things could go my way just once.
Keaton, ever the calm one, taps my foot lightly with his sticks, his beat grounding me even more.
