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“I am so sorry.” My head shakes, and my thighs involuntarily clench with the reminder that my bladder is dangerously full. “I really have to use the restroom, and it’s an emergency.”
“Damn.” Ramsey sits up and ends up lifting me until we’re both standing. I blink in pure confusion at how he managed that move with the added weight of my hundred-and-sixty-pound frame. I can’t do a crunch with my own body weight, let alone someone else’s. “I like leisurely showers. If it’s ever an emergency, just knock and come on in.” He slides to the side, nodding to the open door to the bathroom.
I nearly scoff. Like that’ll ever happen. I am not using the restroom while a rock star showers a couple of feet away.
“Sorry. Thank you,” I say as my hands fly to my face. His towel has fallen so low on his hips that the top of his pubic hair is visible. My face flames as I shove myself inside the spacious bathroom and lock the door.
My back falls against it as I stare at the ceiling.
Please tell me that didn’t just happen.
* * *
Watching Northern Star practice is the highlight of my day. I’ve loved their music for years, but it’s weird hearing Fitz slay the vocals that usually come from Warrick. His voice is similar, but he’s got a different gravel to his tone. It’s also a little intimidating to see how easily he falls into the role of tattooed lead singer.
Fitz is gorgeous.
It’s kind of impossible to miss.
His muscles flex, bulging as he bounces around the stage. Watching him sling the mic around before leaning toward the non-existent audience, I see an entirely different side of him. It’s like he’s made for the stage.
We really are polar opposites. It’s never been more apparent to me than at this very moment. I think I’ve managed to keep my crush on Fitz a secret over the years. I’m sure every woman who’s ever seen him play has had similar thoughts.
He’s not just sexy.
He has killer talent.
It’s not that I don’t think I’m pretty. I am. I get comments a lot that I’m cute or adorable. It’s just never words like gorgeous, smoking hot, or a total bombshell.
I blow out a breath and remind myself I’m here for the opportunity to build a solid career, not to drool over my best friend’s older brother.
I push myself out of my chair, grab my camera, and get back to work.
* * *
We have a late lunch that’s delivered to the venue, but I pick at it. It’s hard to relax when there have been so many changes in the last twenty-four hours.
Fitz eats with me, which I appreciate, but he has to head back to practice with the guys as soon as we’re done.
I don’t know all the details, but he spent a month with the band before the tour took off. It’s complicated because both Warrick and Fitz play lead guitar. It leaves them with three guitarists. I can’t hear a problem, but I do know there’s a lot of discussion about who should be doing which part of each song.
The entire stage seems a little crowded with the six of them, now that I think about it. I’ve taken some incredible pictures during the last few hours. I’m considering that a tiny win. Then again, there have been no fans to get in the way of collecting the good shots. The guys aren’t as animated as when they’re in front of an audience, but the label asked for a variety of pictures.
So, I’m going to make sure I get them.
The others are still playing, but my eyes widen as Warrick pulls off his instrument. He hands it off to one of the helpers and makes his way to the table I’m at before taking a seat.
The next song starts as Warrick stretches in his chair. His eyes are on my leftovers.
I frown, trying to decide if it’s weird to offer them to him. They served us what seemed like a ton of food for me, but he is a big guy.
Maybe he’s still hungry after all that practicing.
He tosses an arm over the back of my chair and leans close. The music is so loud that I probably wouldn’t be able to hear him otherwise. His smoky, nutty scent floods my senses, and I run my hand over my dress to keep from trying to sniff out where it’s strongest.
“You didn’t touch your fruit or the salad,” he says in his low, gravelly tone. “And barely nibbled at your sandwich.”
“If you’re still hungry, you’re more than welcome to it,” I say, bouncing in my seat. It’s been tough sitting in one spot for hours at a time. Tomorrow, I’ll bring my computer, so I can edit while they practice.
