“I know you don’t want to. But you have a contract, so you kind ofhaveto make that video. Call me after?” I hate to be the practical one right now, but hedoeshave a career to think about. One he’d do about anything for.
Including leaving me.
Yeah, not going there, buddy.
“I’ll see if I can find some other time in the schedule, okay?” He sounds almost desperate. “There must be some consecutive days offsomewhere.”
“I’m sure there are.” There are none. Not where I don’t have a game or mandatory training and he doesn’t have a show or other commitments. We already checked this multiple times.
“Fuck. She’s giving me the death glare. You sure you don’t want me to stay on?”
“Go.It’s fine. Make a killer video for me, okay? Say hi to everyone.”
He grumbles something that sounds like an agreement, and we say our goodbyes.
When the call disconnects, I swear something incomprehensible, and in a fit of unexpected rage, flick my phone away. The satisfactory crack when it slams against the wall is nothing compared to the crack in my heart that breaks further.
This summer officially sucks even more.
TWO
Mickisadick.An arrogant, self-centered, son-of-a-dick.
There, I said it.
Mr. Famous Superstar is a dick. Who would’ve guessed?
The fucked-up part? Helikesme. Yes. He abso-fucking-lutely likes me. Like get-into-my-pants likes me. Not that I can do shit aboutthat,because he’s Mick fucking Heart, the lead singer of the world famous band Six of Hearts. Which we’re opening for. And Ihaveto get along with Mick fucking Heart, because me and my band that just peeped around the corner of the music scene? We need him.
We need his fame. We need his band. And we need to keep opening for them so we keep our momentum going and can get big on our own.
Jodie's orders? The label’s orders? Play nice.
And. I. Hate. It.
Ireallyhate it, especially when he insists on accompanying me on my jogs when the buses park somewhere for longer than a quick break.
Like right the fuck now.
He’s a seasoned rock star, for crying out loud; the only thing I saw him do the first couple of months was banging his way around the female and male population of America, snorting more coke than the motherfucking Wolf of Wall Street, and then wake up with a major hangover to do the whole thing over again. Now, he’s here, wearing running shoes and complaining that I have to slow down.
Yes, I run while on tour. Ihaveto. Because it turns out that being cooped up inside a bus for days and nights on end isnotgood for my mental state.
I’m a very active, outdoorsy kinda guy. Having nothing else to do but sit around on my ass all day and watch how my fellow tour colleagues play on the Xbox and smoke weed gets boring after a while. I can only write so many songs; my notebooks are filled to the brim, and even though I really want to inundate him with texts and reels all damn day, Tyler has stuff to do as well.
Therefore, at every stop, I try to get out andrun, to get all this bouncing energy that’s piling up out of my system. Being on stage helps a lot to get the tension out, but it’s not enough, not with how active I used to be.
I miss soccer. I miss surfing. And I especially miss jogging every morning with my favorite person in the entire world. And my favorite view.
Most of all, I misshim. And not even the sex—which isamazing—but just him.Gah.
Thank fuck, at least we have ourownbus on this prolonged part of the tour. Don’t get me wrong, Ilovethis experience; it feels like I’m on some sort of all-the-time high since leaving college. The shows, the music, thefanbasethat’s exploding right now.It’s been out of this world. Really is.
But turns out, being holed up in a tour bus with sixteen people isnotall that it’s cracked up to be. Since at first, the label put us with the roadies, who are outstanding and amazing people, they really are, but havingnopersonal space or privacy gets old after a while.
Even more so when you try to have phone sex with your hot as fuck quarterback boyfriend.
Fortunately, after the first three months we got rewarded with our own freaking bus because we signed on with the damn record label, produced our own album in the few weeks we were back in LA, and have become a permanent fixture of the second part of Six of Hearts’ tour.
