Page 45 of Make Me Laugh

He ditched the hat during sound check, his caramel colored hair mused and untamed in a naturally easy way. “What do you need help with?” he asks, stepping beside me.

The braid exposes my neck, keeping my hair out of the way of the strap. I turn my head and look down, finding one strap at a time for West to take. “I’m going to line the front up where it needs to go, and you’re going to tie it.”

Easy peasy. Simple.

“Let me know when you’re ready.” West’s voice is strained, like he’s also trying his best to seem calm.

I distract myself from the shiver his breath on my neck causes with getting the top situated and clasped, then relax into my natural posture. “Okay, now cross those and pull until I say.”

West does, and when his fingers graze my skin, there’s nothing I can do to keep the goosebumps from forming, and I definitely can’t hide them from him either.

“Right there.” He stops when I say and ties it off.

“There’s not enough fabric left for a pretty bow,” he warns in his teasing tone I’m quickly becoming familiar with.

I breathe a laugh through my nose. “As if you could tie a pretty bow.”

“You caught me.” West admits casually, but when I turn to face him, casual flies out the window, and he loses the war I see waging in his eyes as he tries not to gawk at my tits in this dress.

He loses, and I flush underneath his stare.

I don’t have big boobs—nothing like the girls it seems West has been involved with in the past, but this dress makes them the center of attention. I only have a few tattoos near my collarbone, leaving the skin around my cleavage bare but for the dagger between.

Letting Frankie choose my attire for the weekend might have been risky…

West clears his throat and claps his hands together, forcing himself to look around the room aimlessly. “Okay, well, I’ll uh, see you before I stage. Backstage. I go. Stage—Jesus Christ.” He spins on his heels and marches for the door.

A smile creeps onto my lips as it slams, the camper shaking from the force.

He’s trying so hard to respect my wishes.

If only he knew what I really wished and not what my brain tells me needs to happen…

West wouldn’t have been helping me in my dress. It would be piled on the floor with his own clothes, and we’d be breaking the number one tour rule: no sex on the bus.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THE ONE WITH TIMJIM

Comment: Radio silence? Really? WE ARE CHOMPING AT THE BIT HERE

Comment reply: Hex was spotted at BOTH Portland shows… I think that’s all we needed to see.

Comment reply: Ok well now I need to see MORE cause Hex in the yellow dress????? If West doesn’t date her, can I?

I manage to get through night one without making a complete ass of myself.

And I wasn’t sure how I was ever going to pull it off with the dress Joey wore.

I was even on my best behavior when we went out for drinks after the show and was forced to watch men gawk like pigs wouldn’t have to fly for them to have a chance with her.

Inside the club, she left the oversized leather jacket hanging on a chair near the sound booth. Without sleeves or a back, the pastel yellow dress showed off the tattooed skin I’d love to spend time memorizing. The color reminds me of church on Easter, but when Joey turns around, my thoughts are sent straight from the devil herself.

Forgive me, Mother, for I will sin.

I can feel the satin between my fingertips like I’m still tying the straps around her neck if I focus long enough. The dress cuts off mid-shin, and she's wearing her black and white checkered Vans from earlier.

Joey catches me staring at her tits multiple times throughout the night, and I’m starting to think she likes it, because never once does she cuss me out or tell me to jump off the nearest bridge.