“All on boardandon time? This has to be a record.” Our driver Jay chuckles after climbing inside the bus.
Trent laughs, kicks off his boots, and flops into one of the chairs. “We might be growing up.”
“Let’s not get carried away,” Jay says.
“Gotta piss.” Austin pushes off the floor and strides unevenly to the bathroom.
Jay takes his place at the wheel, laughing again. “Point in case.”
“Baby steps. It’s all about improvements.” Trent reaches his arms up with a stretch and tucks them behind his head. His half-lidded gaze looks about thirty seconds from falling asleep, but Sean plops onto the chair next to him and it doesn’t take long before they’re deep in conversation.
This sucks. With everyone back from the bar, my time with Opal is over. By her reserved movements I have to wonder whether I pushed a boundary I shouldn’t have. I swear I didn’t know she wasreallywith Austin. If I had I wouldn’t have flirted, or been so drawn to her. Or barged in to critique her playing.
Liar.Okay, so maybe I wouldn’t have been able to resist flirting, but mentally I would have put up a wall. I don’t move in on someone else’s girl. That’s not cool. A little head’s up from my uncle would have been nice, but it’s becoming ever so clear he has no clue what’s going on with his own band.
“Thank you,” Opal says loud enough so only I can hear her over Trent and Sean. She sets the guitar back into the case, scooting it a few inches away. “For the tips.”
“Anytime.” I nod and glance down the hall before twisting to meet her stare. “So, you and Austin . . . ?” God, I can’t even say it. How could she be with him? I’ve only known him a few days and while he’s a fun guy and talented musician, I can say with the utmost certainty he’d be a horrible boyfriend.
“What?” Her brows shoot up and she lets loose a giggle, shaking her head. “No!” She glances at Trent and it’s obvious when she lowers her voice that she doesn’t want anyone to eavesdrop. “He’s just really friendly.”
Friendly. Hmm. Not sure I like the sound of that or what’s implied, but friendly gives me a shot. A chance. For a reason I can’t explain, I really want a chance with her. “Oh, okay. ’Cause I guess it seemed like—”
“Yeah. No.” She cuts me off as a blush stains the fair skin of her neck and cheeks. I wonder whether it trails down to her breasts, but I know better than to try and look. I want her to like me, not think I’m a perv.
“Interesting.” My lips pull with a grin and her cheeks only grow pinker.
“How is that interesting?” she sasses, but her lips still hold a grin.
“It would have been surprising, that’s all. I can’t see you with someone like him.” The moment the words fly from my mouth her smile falters.
“Oh.” Her gaze falls to her hands.
“Wait, that came out wrong.” What I should have said was how she’s way too good to be with someone like him. He doesn’t deserve her. I don’t, either. But now she won’t even look at me.
“It’s late. I’m gonna turn in.” She pushes off the floor and her gaze meets mine for a brief moment. “Thanks again with the guitar.”
“Of course.” I want to ask her to stay. Apologize for being an idiot. Beg her not to write me off just yet. But instead I don’t do a damn thing and watch her walk away.Coward.
Austin emerges from the hall and I know whatever moment I had with her has passed.
She’s already sliding into her bunk for the night.
“If we get too loud, tell us to shut up!” Trent says before she draws her curtain shut. He points to where I’m still sitting on the thin carpet. The vibration of the engine shoots up my spine as Jay fires up the bus. “You play guitar too?”
“I play a lot of things.”
“Cool.” He purses his lips and nods. “I’m not tired. Who’s up for a round of poker?”
“Fuck yeah.” Austin grabs hold of the counter and begins humping against it.
“I told you those Jager bombs were a bad idea.” Sean drags his feet with heavy steps and plops into the bench at the table.
Austin doesn’t show any sign of stopping; if anything, his thrusts gain zest as he adds in hand motions and sound effects. “Oh, yeah. Give it to me, Austin!”
“Someone make it stop.” Sean groans and flops his head into where he folds his arms atop the table.
“Austin. Stop fucking the counter.” Trent doesn’t glance up from the cards he shuffles, as if his request is as ordinary as asking Austin to shut the door or flip off the lights.
