“Can we get a selfie? Like—real quick?” Leftie asks with a wide grin. “We’re going to the concert tonight! He’sbonkersfor your music.”
The smaller guy starts to blush and rubs his neck. “It’s notthatbad, I swear. I’m not like, obsessed or anything.”
“Shit, don’t lie. You’re in your Encore era.” Then he whispers, way too loudly, to his friend, “That’s fine. I am too.”
I chuckle at their enthusiasm, agree to the pics, and pull my shirt on before I get up.
“I might be abitobsessed,” Freckles admits, eyes still on me, shy smile tugging at his lips. “I have your new album on every playlist. For the gym, homework, and in the shower.”
“That last one’s the most important,” I say with a wink, chuckling as the shy guy turns even redder and fumbles with his phone.
“Oh my god, you’re actually nice. I thought you’d be a diva. No offense.”
“None taken,” I grin, leaning in for the photo. “I save the diva shit for stage time.”
From my peripheral, I see that Tyler jogs our way, keeping his distance, eyeing the excited guys—who are practically bouncing—with an amused grin.
That is, until—
“So, are you really banging Mick Heart?”
And just like that, Ty’s happy grin is gone again.
That afternoon, after we ventured into the city a bit with the gang, we’re back at the bus. Ty snapped right back to his usual relaxed self after the fans left, and after some much-needed smooching and reassurances that he’s still okay, I let the subject drop.
Now we’re enjoying our last moments together before we have to head to the venue, since he’s leaving in the middle of the show, taking in the silicone cocks proudly standing on the dresser.
“Look, yours is kinda curvy.” I poke the hot pink one, which slightly bows to the left.
“I didn’t know I had a curved dick.” Ty drops his gaze to his crotch, where the dick in question is safely tucked away behind his gray sweat shorts, the only thing he’s wearing. For now…
“It’s a beautiful curve and I’m very fond of it,” I muse, stroking the silicone cock in reference with the tips of my fingers. “This one’s supposed to glow in the dark.”
“Ah. So you can use my dick when you’re trying to read a book at night?”
“Yes, I’m going to use it as a nightlight and when people drive past our bus at night, I can wave at them. It’ll keep me company during those long, lonely hours I’m away from you.”
“You’re such an idiot,” Ty snickers, the tone of his voice all loving as he grabs his discarded duffle from the corner of the room. “If we ever get separated, it can show me the way right back to you.”
Not me fucking swooning over here.
I nudge him with my shoulder and smack his ass before grabbing the dildos and throwing them on the bed. “On the outside, you’re this big scary football player, but on the inside you’re secretly just a big sap, aren’t you?”
He smiles, all soft and stupid and gorgeous, and lets his fingers from his free hand trail down my spine as he drops the duffle next to the Clone-a-Willy’s. “Not much of a secret, you know I am. Wish we had more than just a couple hours before I have to go, though.”
I lean into his touch. “You’ll miss me that much, huh?”
“Always.”
The corner of my mouth lifts, mirroring his when our eyes meet. His gaze is heavy—full of love, longing, and so much fucking heartbreak. He looks at me like he’s trying to memorize every angle, every curve, like he’s imprinting me onto his brain to hold on to during the long weeks we’ll be apart. I know I’m doing the same.
When his cell buzzes near his hip with an incoming text, the moment is gone. He tears his eyes from mine, checks whatever it was he received and snickers. “I swear, Lamar needs supervision twenty-four-seven,” he mumbles before dropping the device on the bed and hauling discarded clothing from the room. “He just sent me a video… I guess he stole a guinea pig.”
“He didwhat?”
“Stole a guinea pig,” he repeats, gesturing to the phone. “Like, from the petting zoo we were supposed to go to? He was bitching this entire week to go back to buy the damn rodent. Apparently, he made eye contact with it and it felt right.”
I grab the phone, check the message, and snort. Sure enough, the video shows a shaky close-up of a way too fucking smug-looking Lamar whispering, “Operation Smuggle-the-Pig complete. No one saw me, I think. Probably.” There’s a squeakywheek wheekoff-camera, and then a tiny furry potato pops its head out of his hoodie.
