SIX
“Tyler,Jodie.Jodie,Tyler.”I point back and forth between the two as we finally board the bus. They’ve seen and spoken to each other plenty during calls, so I don’t need to explain anything. “And that numbnut is one of the roadies.” I wave at the skinny bald dude who’s lounging with my bandmates in the living area. “His name is Opie. We have another driver but I guess he’s asleep?” I let the question hang in the air.
“Yes. Opie’s driving the first leg. Paco will take over in a couple hours,” Missy says, smirking like she knows exactly what I’m thinking. “He just said he needs his rest—slept like shit lastnight. So you’ll have to be quiet. Andhi, Ty. I’m so happy to see you again.” She gets up to give him a hug, her tall, slender frame completely swallowed by my big man.
Of course, now myentireband finds it necessary to hug and greet their friend. Even our shy drummer, Asher, gets up from his spot on the lounge chair to give him a high five.
Ty never lets go of me through the entire thing. His duffle is on his back and our fingers stay linked, his hand warm and solid in mine, a crooked smile on his face, eyes bright as he returns each hug—clenching my hand tighter and pulling me closer every time someone tries to tug him away.
It almost feels like he’s afraid that if he lets go, I’ll disappear. That we’ll wake up and realize this was just another one of those hopeful dreams we had over the past few months. That it’s too good to be true. That if we break contact for even a second, we’ll snap right back into the lonely reality we lived apart.
And God, I share the fucking sentiment.
A soft smile curls around my lips as I glance down at our hands—his broader, darker fingers entwined with mine. At the bracelets peeking out from under our cuffs. The tiger’s eye one I gave him still circles his wrist. The braided one he gave me for Christmas? Still wrapped around mine.
Inevertake it off.
Not when I shower. Not for gigs. Not even during photoshoots, no matter how much they try. And bythey, I mean the pushy stylists and photographers hired to make us look our best—sell singles, tickets, albums, whatever.
My stubbornness about the bracelet has earned more than a few eyerolls and arguments from Jodie, but I won’t budge, not on this. That bracelet keeps me tethered. Keeps mesanethroughout this tour. It links me to Ty and I love that I always have a piece of him with me—onme—even when we’re miles apart.
But he’s not far away right now. He’s here, right beside me, chatting with the band about mutual friends back on campus…
And he’s taking way too long.
I grumble something unintelligible as I tug on his wrist, and Tyler gives me an amused glance over his shoulder. His lips twitch with a barely contained smile, eyes gleaming as he lifts a brow in question.
“Are you done?” I ask—not unkindly, but definitely impatient.
“What? Did you have plans?” His dimples pop out, even though he’s clearly trying not to grin.
My eyes zero in on them—those stupid, perfect dimples I love way too damn much—and I bite my bottom lip without even realizing it.
He notices. Of course he notices. His gaze drops to my mouth, pupils dilating as he sucks in a sharp breath.
Yeah.Fuck this.
I yank my man away—maybe a little too forcefully, but I don’t care. Because yes, I have plans, dammit.Very specificones. I head straight for the sleeping area. He almost trips over a stray pillow, stumbling into my back. Oops.
“In a hurry, Jace?” Missy calls from somewhere behind me, not even bothering to hide the laughter in her voice. I throw a middle finger over my shoulder. It earns me a chorus of chuckles.
I stride right through the sea of scattered pillows they were lounging on, ignoring the paused action flick on the screen. Dragging Tyler behind me, I pull him through the sliding door to the sleeping area and slam it shut, muting the laughter from our friends on the other side. I just want himalone.
We’ve waited too fucking long for this. No way I’m delaying it a second more.
It takes me all of two point five seconds to have Ty smashed against the side wall of the bunk beds, my mouth on his, handsframing his face, his duffle bag still slung over one shoulder, pressed to the side, quickly forgotten.
I drink him in—his taste, his warmth, his presence.
He’s here. Solid. Safe.Real.
Ohholy fuck, how I’ve missed this. Missedhim. Missedus.Allof it.
He grunts as one hand finds my back, fingers curling into my leather jacket, pulling me closer even though there’s no space left between us. But it’s still not close enough.
Somewhere behind a curtain, I hear Paco mumble a half-hearted complaint.
I ignore him.
