AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Well, for starters,” Declan says, “she’s fucking gorgeous. You’re not ugly or anything, B, but damn, she’s out of your league.”
I laugh into my beer and look down at my phone again, willing her to wake up and text me. This conversation makes me miss her a hundred times more. I knew it would fucking kill me to leave her—and it has—but I think I underestimated how fucked I’d be.
“Second of all,” Miller chimes in, “since when do you keep a woman around for more than a quick fuck on the bus?”
I set my beer down and glare at Miller. “There’s no quick fucks coming from me… I fuck all night,” I tell him like it’s a pissing match.
“Oh, trust us, we know. We’re on the same bus.” Declan rolls her eyes and smirks, letting me know she’s kidding.
As fucked-up as it sounds, whenever I’m hooking up with someone, I do everything in my power to take the farthest sleeping area that we’ve designated for hook-ups only. I also do my best to keep the woman quiet… which only goes so far.
I push the thought away because honestly, none of that matters now.
“Isla is different.” I look around at the three of them and take a bite out of my now-cold taco, enjoying the looks of anticipation on my bandmates’ faces as I make them wait. “I’ve met a lot of women, but I’ve never met anyone like her. None of them put me in my place like she does.”
Declan nods eagerly. “Thank god someone is doing it. I really like her. I don’t know her super well yet, but you’re different around her. I get good vibes from her.”
I’m just about to ask what she means, how she’s seen a difference in me when she’s only seen me around Isla twice, but Carleeta stomps onto the bus and interrupts us.
She clods up the stairs wearing a white robe, her hair up in curlers like she’s eighty-five. She needs to get laid. The thought comes before I can stop it and suddenly, all I see is a naked Carleeta under that big security guard from earlier. Gross.
“We’re moving out.” She spins back toward the door. “T-minus four hours, and we’ll be in Detroit.” And with that, she’s out the door and walking back toward her bus, probably to rip her assistant to shreds about something that wasn’t even their fault.
I stand and gather our taco trash, throwing it into the bin just as Randy shifts the bus into drive.
I watch as Flynn gets up and throws his beer away, heading toward our sleeping quarters.
“Do you guys think something is up with him or am I just acting like an overprotective brother?” I ask Declan and Miller, using this opportunity while we’re alone to find out if they’ve picked up on what I saw tonight.
Declan sighs and watches Flynn’s back as he walks down the hallway. “Yeah, he’s off… I’m sure it’s dad stuff and his ex-drama. I hate seeing him so unhappy all the time, you guys. It’s not the Flynn I love. It’s like someone else is inside him, you know?” She shakes her head and tosses the remaining trash into the garbage. “I guess it’s just going to take him some time.”
Thirty-Eight
Isla
Paroxysm (n.) a sudden outburst
of emotion.
___________
“Oh, hey,” I say into the phone, forcing myself to wait to pick it up until the fourth ring, not wanting to seem overly desperate. What has Bordeaux turned me into?
“Sugar,” Bordeaux says breathlessly into the phone. His voice is deep, husky, and just hearing his nickname for me sends warmth pooling down between my thighs. “God, I fucking miss you.”
He says it so carefree, and it’s just another reminder of how much we’ve both changed since we spent the night in the recording studio together. Bordeaux, with his bad-boy, tough outer shell suddenly seems gentler. And I... Shit, I don’t even recognize myself when I’m thinking about him, let alone whenever I’m near him. He’s got a wild power over me that is absolutely undeniable.
Blissfully, I spin in my chair, setting down my paintbrush and smiling like an idiot. I sit in the corner of my room that I’ve dedicated solely to my painting. I’m starting to wonder if I wanted to turn music into a career because I love the thought of it so much. Sure, music is incredible, and I meant what I told Bordeaux that first day I met him. It makes me feel alive. But painting…? Painting rivals my passion for music. And I’m wondering if I’m doing myself a disservice by only painting as a hobby.
“I’m really missing you. How was Ohio? Are you in Michigan now?” I ask, knowing full well that’s where stop number two on his A Long Way from Okay Midwest tour is. I’ve studied the graphic on the band’s website multiple times since he left, wondering where he was, what he was doing, where he’d be going next.
All of a sudden, there’s an uptick in noise in the background and Bordeaux asks me to hang on a second, telling me he can’t hear me. It sounds like a crowd of people are screaming his name and I can hear deeper voices shouting something I can’t quite make out.
“Are you okay?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything after a few moments.
“Ugh,” he grunts. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize there would already be people here. I was leaving the arena to head back to the bus for a bit before the show starts.” He pauses, telling someone thank you before coming back to me. “Ohio was fucking incredible. I wish you could have been there. The crowd was unbelievable. Playing shows always helps when the label starts weighing super heavily on us.”
A door slams before he continues, “And yeah, we made it to Detroit early this morning. We go on in an hour, back-to-back shows. Tell me about you, though. What’s going on?”
