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I feel instant relief when instead of running, she smiles coyly and flutters her lashes, ignorant to the devastation that could have been. The rattling of chains in my mind begins to quiet as my beast calms at the sight of her smile.
“Fine. The room is yours.”
She smirks knowingly. “Thanks.”
I roll my eyes and grab her duffle bag from the floor. Sidestepping her, I lead us to the back room. The door is shut but not locked, and I shove it open easily.
“A bed fit for a rock star,” she notes when we walk inside.
I nod. One king bed in a bus full of singles. There’s more than enough room for the both of us in here, but I keep my thoughts to myself. She’ll give in eventually, but for now, I’ll sleep out there. With all of them. I swallow my disgust.
“There’s a private bathroom in here. Use it. Don’t use the main one,” I demand. She turns her head, giving me a look that makes me add a tightpleaseto my order.
“Got it. Will you be using this bathroom as well?”
“Am I allowed to?”
She laughs lightly. “Yes. Of course you are.” Wandering over to the dresser, she starts to pull open the drawers. When she gets to the bottom one and finds my clothes, she looks over at me and asks, “This is all you brought? How veryun-celebrity of you.”
I lean a shoulder against the wall. “Keep teasing me, Tinsley, and I’ll have you sleeping with Justice’s drum set beneath the other bus.”
“Ooh, how terrifying.” She wiggles her fingers in front of her.
“How well will you fight with no sleep?”
She groans, turning back to my clothes. “What happened to quiet, sulking Noah Hutton? You’re annoying me with all this banter right now.”
My laugh is rough, but it has her flashing me a grin over her shoulder before she stands up and turns to me.
“I like hearing you laugh,” she admits.
I immediately stop, then scold myself for stopping when it was making her happy.Fuck.
“Unpack your clothes. We should be leaving soon,” I grit out, suddenly way too fucking tense.
Her expression forms one of understanding as I shut down. I’m already feeling claustrophobic knowing there’s nowhere for me to run. Anxiety rises in my chest, and my heart patters quickly. Too quick.
I tear my eyes away and stare down at my hands, focusing on the ink that covers them. The designs swirl in my vision as I spin on my heels and stalk out of the room.
By the time I throw my body into the main bathroom, I’ve already repeated all of the reasons why I can’t allow myself to be with Tinsley in my mind five times over, adding what just happened to the top of the list.
And only when I’ve splashed my face with cold water enough times to soak my shirt do I feel like I’ll survive seeing her again.
11
TINSLEY
The first fewdays on the road fly by. We’re almost at the first tour stop, and I can feel the nerves rise around me with every kilometre we diminish between us and Edmonton, Alberta.
Noah spends his time preparing for his first show that’snotin a dive bar or tiny theatre while his bandmates make one final push to perfect the way they perform his music. Everyone else . . . well, they try not to get in the way.
Life on a tour bus is the opposite of luxurious, but it’s not terrible. Then again, it’s probably easy for me to say that, considering I don’t have to sleep in a bunk every night. With how sore I am by the end of every day, I don’t know how I would have survived the next few weeks in such tight confinement. I’ll never admit it to him, but Noah did me a huge favour by giving me a real bed.
Sweat drips from my nose and soaks the material of my sports bra as I punch the pads in Hunter’s hands in a 1-6-3-2 sequence. My entire body aches from the hours spent in the gym today, but the pain fuels me, pushes me harder.No pain, no gain, Dad always says. It’s the oldest saying in the book, but it hits the spot every time.
There’s nothing easy about the level of physical activity I have to push myself to every day during training camp. It’s gruelling and exhausting and not for everyone. The strain I’m putting on my body is undeniable. It’s my reality, though, at least during these weeks leading up to my professional debut.
That isn’t to say that I don’t thrive off the sore muscles, frantic heart rate, and cramping fingers after a five-hour training session. I do.I really do.
