Page 29 of Before the Encore

U can kiss ur sick lil fantasies goodbye

Ruby: LAME

Madison: U should be in bed. Go to sleep

Ruby: I’ve been on a Netflix binge

Call me tmorro?

Madison: Ofc. Now go to sleep

She slipped her phone into her pocket, smile morphing into a soft smirk when Bonnie approached.

“What did you think?” Bonnie asked, her chest heaving. Madison did her damnedest not to ogle her magnificent boobs.

She was also a boobs girl. Sue her.

“Oh.” Madison’s smirk grew. “Were you doing something?”

Bonnie rolled her eyes. “Wait.” They returned to Madison with alarm. “We’re not scheduled for something today, are we?” She combed the stray blonde hairs back from her face. “Shit. Have I forgotten something?”

“Calm down. You’re good. We’ve nothing on tonight.”

She might have told her bandmates a teeny white lie.

“Oh, okay.” Bonnie exhaled, the overhead lights catching the sheen of sweat on her forehead. “Good. I wanted to get more practice in.”

“More?” She eyed the dancers packing up their belongings and exiting through the doors. “You need to rest.”

“I don’t have time for that.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You, the CEO of water breaks and sleep routines, don’t have time to rest?”

Bonnie glanced at her, eyes narrowed. “This is im—”

“Important to you, I know. You’ve said so. Repeatedly. But if you don’t have a break, you’ll have a heart attack before you even make it on stage.” Madison tutted. “And imagine those headlines.”

Bonnie seemed to consider this, sucking her bottom lip between her teeth. “But the first LA show is only two weeks away.”

“I doubt it will be as effective performed from the comfort of a hospital bed.”

Bonnie snorted, but her attention flicked back to the mirror where she’d been practising.

The tour was equally important to all of them now. Without Bonnie, the shows would collapse. It was in Lipstick Fever’s best interests to keep the pop princess performing at her best, which was why Madison opened her big mouth.

“Come out with me. Let loose for once. You might actually”—Madison gasped—“have some fun.”

Her gaze narrowed, combing over Madison’s face. “But we’re not scheduled tonight.”

“Fuck the schedule.”

She placed her hands on her hips. “Why?”

Madison groaned. “Does there need to be a reason? Normal people tend to hang out without their publicist planning playdates. Is Bonnie Bloom incapable of having normal-people fun?”

“I dread to think what that means to you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Come on, princess. Live a little. I dare you.” Her gaze held Bonnie’s, challenging.