Page 16

Don't get me wrong, we travel with some of our own equipment, but I figured dragging everything we’d need halfway across the country would cost way more money and patience than we all have combined. The places I chose for this tour let us jump right in—less setup and more riding.

Sure, I could’ve picked bigger arenas, but those places are a logistical nightmare. We’d spend hours building ramps, double-checking structures, chasing down permits. Stadiums like these come with all of it. Less time fucking around with measurements, more time letting these two maniacs be exactly what they are—terror on wheels.

And it's not exactly like I had any help planning this shit.

I shift, trying to focus on Taylor's Superman seat grab through the viewfinder, but another mosquito bite flares to life. The camera drops as I scratch myself furiously, gritting my teeth. Thick humidity last night had me stripping off my bra in my sleep, and now my back is covered in bites that I can't fucking reach.

“Girl, what the hell.” Arya giggles from behind, watching me dance around in a circle to reach my shoulder blades. The morning light catches on her pink sundress. “You look like you have to pee.”

“Thank fuck you're awake. Scratch me. All over. I’m dying.”

She snorts but obliges, raking her acrylic nails down my spine. “You know you could have shared with me and Christian instead.”

A loud moan leaves my lips when she hits the right spot. “Those bunks are tiny. We'd be on top of each other.”

“Wouldn't be the first time.”

I roll my eyes, shivering when she scrapes another bite.

While I have shared a bed with her and Christian in the past, I have no desire to do it again. Despite their many, many propositions, nothing happened between us. They fucked while I tried to sleep through it. Arya is beautiful, but she's my home girl, and Christian is my best friend. I refuse to take those relationships anywhere else.

“What took you so long getting ready, anyway?” I ask, moaning again as she continues to scratch.

Her movements falter slightly. “I was, um… occupied.”

A catch in her voice snags my attention, and I glance over my shoulder to find her smiling sheepishly. My gaze narrows. “What did you do?”

Her big blue eyes shift sideways, but she only shrugs, giving up on my bites to saunter away. I consider dragging her back to explain herself when a spot on my thigh itches so bad it stings.

“Goddammit.” One more mosquito bite and I'll lose my mind, I swear.

Brushing the dirt off my legs, I sling my camera over my shoulder and make my way toward the RV. The guys are still tearing across the lot, engines screaming, but all I can think about is calamine lotion or an acid bath.

Inside, it’s blissfully empty. Sick Like Me by In This Moment plays from someone’s Bluetooth speaker, the smell of stale coffee and bacon lingering in the air from breakfast. I dig through the first aid kit, finding only band-aids, old cough drops, and ibuprofen that expired two years ago.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I growl, slamming it shut harder than necessary.

No calamine. No relief.

Muttering curses under my breath, I start tearing through drawers, desperately hoping maybe someone stashed something somewhere, but come up empty once again. Of course.

Because when in my life has anything ever been easy for me?

“Looking for something?”

Spinning around, I catch sight of Logan in the doorway wearing a blue polo that makes his honeyed eyes pop. My pulse kicks up a notch.

I hate his gorgeous fucking eyes.

“Calamine lotion,” I snap, rummaging through another drawer by the sink. “Or itch cream. Or fire. Something to keep me from ripping my own skin off.”

He’s quiet for a beat, watching me scratch my arms. “You don’t need lotion.”

“Oh? And what do I need, Logan, since you know me so well?”

He pulls open the silverware drawer before holding up a… spoon. “This.”

I blink slowly at him. “This itching sucks, but heroin's a bit extreme.”