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Chapter Twenty-three
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“Are you sure it’s okaythat I’m here?” I hesitate at the entrance of the tour bus, looking up to where Hudson stops in the middle of the stairs and turns toward me.
“Technically this ismytour bus. Yes, it’s okay that you’re here.” He holds his hand out to me.
“Right,” I say, more nervous than I should be as I take his hand and allow him to pull me on board.
I hear at least three different male voices talking before we make it to the landing, followed by a rumble of laughter as one yells playfully at the other just as we step onto the bus.
“I was wondering where the hell your ass disappeared to,” one of the men says, stopping when he sees me half hiding behind Hudson’s large frame.
“I told Zeke I was getting a room. I take it he didn’t tell you?” Hudson asks, slightly annoyed.
“That’s what you get for telling Zeke.” The man laughs, our eyes meeting as Hudson pulls me up beside him.
At first glance I would guess the man is maybe in his early forties. With dirty blonde hair and a goatee in serious need of a trim, he’s not what I would classify as good looking but I wouldn’t say he’s not good looking either, if that makes sense.
“I guess that’s true.” Hudson shakes his head.
“Hello, I’m sitting right here,” says the man sitting across the small table from the other, a deck of cards sitting between them.
This man looks to be about Hudson’s age. With a completely bald head and tattoos on every surface of skin I can see other than his face, he reminds me more of a rocker than someone who would travel with a country artist.
“Don’t worry, we all know you’re shit at remembering to do anything,” another man chimes in from the small built in couch along the back wall.
My eyes move to him, noticing that he’s much younger than the others and reminds me of Colton from the first night we met. He’s wearing faded jeans, a red flannel–despite the fact that it’s the hottest month of the summer in Texas, and his hair is pulled back in a thick man bun. He’s cute enough but way too young for me to really take notice. If I had to guess I’d say he’s probably not even old enough to drink yet.
“Fuck you, kid,” the bald man throws his way before Hudson clears his throat, demanding the room. “Guys, this is Lennon. Lennon, this is my touring band.” He sweeps his arm to gesture to the room.
“Hey, Lennon,” they all kind of say in unison.
I do a small wave to no one in particular, feeling every set of eyes in the room on me.
“This is Hank. He plays bass.”
I swallow my nerves and nod a hello to the man with the goatee, not attempting to move out of Hudson’s protective hold.
“This here is Zeke.” He gestures to the bald guy sitting across from Hank. “Best drummer I’ve ever had the pleasure of playing with. Shit at relaying messages,” Hudson jokes causing Zeke to smile.
“Sup, girl.” He gives me a chin lift.
“And back there is Oliver. He plays guitar.” He gestures to the younger guy with the bun.
“Hi, guys,” I squeak out without sounding as nervous as I feel.
It’s weird. I’ve always been a very outgoing, confident person but when it comes to meeting the people in Hudson’s life, I clam up in a way that is so not like me. I think it’s the pressure I put on myself. I’m so desperate for everyone to like me that I’m forgetting to be myself.
“Well hello to you, Lennon,” Zeke says, turning his gaze to Hudson. “You said she was pretty, but you didn’t tell us she was this pretty.”
I relax at his comment.
“I like him,” I offer, a smile playing on my lips.
“Somehow I knew you would.” Hudson chuckles, tightening his arm around my shoulders as he turns his attention back to the guys. “Why are you guys hanging out here? You have the day off. Don’t you spend enough time on this bus?”
“We’re gonna head out in a bit. Just waiting on some of Travis’ guys,” Hank answers.
