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"My sex life is none of Dev's business."
"Yes, it is," she replies. "He's our manager and Javi is the headliner. You're not naïve, so don't try to play that with me."
"I'm not playing anything with you," I tell her, sitting up. God, this room really smells like sex. "I'm serious. I'm not interested in anything more than sex with him. And he's not either. We're not like, together."
She laughs. "Right. And he's just going to leave the tour at the end of the summer, right? And you'll never see him again?"
"Well, for starters, we live in different countries, Bry. So yeah. He's going to go back to his life and his band and his fans," I say. "And I'm going to go back to mine."
"You're not going to be able to just have sex with him and never see him again," she says. "He'll be back on your couch when he’s in the States touring. And then he’ll fuck a groupie and he’ll..."
“Forget about me?”
“I’m just saying.”
“Look, I know he’s out of my league…” I start.
Bryony shakes her head as she bunches her hair up in a ponytail. “That is not at all what I meant,” she says. “I’m just saying, Al, be realistic.”
"If he’s in Orlando, and he comes over, I can't help it if he wants to fuck me on my couch," I reply. I throw my pillow back at her and we laugh, and then she turns serious again. "He's on tour. We’re on tour. As far as everyone knows, I’m not sleeping with the talent. Except for you. That’s why you can’t tell anyone, Bryony.”
"How long do you think you can keep this a secret, Al?”
“As long as I need to. As long as you help out.”
“Alana,” she says. “He’s a high profile person. They’re going to pry into his life.”
“It’s not like we fucked in public.”
“Yet,” she replies. “The way you look at each other, you might as well.”
She’s not wrong. But there's a part of me that's simply struggling to care. I don’t care about anything but what I’m feeling now. I don’t know what the future holds, but I don’t want to worry about it now. I don’t want to think about tomorrow.
“It’s only Friday,” I tell her. “I’m not thinking about anything that’s not going to happen until Sunday. I am not going to be thinking about anything that’s going to happen more than forty-eight hours from now. That is the only way I can keep myself sane during this tour.
I do not want to think about anything but now.
Before she can answer me, we hear someone rapping their knuckles on the door.
Bryony furrows her brow. "Come in," she says. "We're decent."
I laugh under my breath.
Dom walks into our room, looking disheveled. There are bags under his eyes, his dark brown hair messy. His arms are hidden behind his back, his clothes wrinkled on his frame, his boots loud on the floorboard as he takes a step toward us.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
He takes a deep breath. “Did you guys sleep last night?”
“We were tired,” Bryony says. “The show really took it out of us.”
She looks like she’s going to laugh, but Dom doesn’t. “You guys really didn’t hear anything weird?”
“If it was sex, it was probably Trine and Misha,” Bryony says. “Those two are wild.”
“It wasn’t sex,” Dom replies. “Though I did hear that too. Can I come in?”
I nod. “Yeah, of course,” I say.
