There’s a knock on the door, and Rose hurries over to open it amidst squeals.
“Come in, come in,” she says, and soon Austin’s head pops up at the top of the stairs as Rose rushes over to see if any more texting has happened.
Austin’s brows rise. “Am I interrupting something?”
“Yes,” Rose says right as I say, “No.”
Austin looks back and forth between us.
“Noah Hayes asked Mia out!” Kelly blurts.
My head whips around. “What? No, he didn’t.” My heart beats at a clipping pace. “He didn’t. He just wants to follow up on what we talked about last night. It’s a business lunch.”
Austin’s gaze takes me in for a second, then he nods. “Cool. Anyone want anything from inside the gas station?”
My stomach is tight as Austin takes Kelly’s and Rose’s orders. I wish I knew what he was thinking. That little pause before hiscoolresponse niggles at me, but he seems totally fine.
Is it possible he’s a bit jealous? Or am I dreaming that up because it would help clarify what’s going on between us?
I know he’s not a Noah fan, so maybe he’s annoyed.
I consider inviting Austin to explore Lyon with me, but when I go to find him backstage after rehearsal, he’s talking with a beautiful blonde.
My heartbeat skids to a halt as they both start laughing. Paul comes over a few seconds later, and I beat it before anyone sees me.
I may go crazy trying to figure out this whole situation. Whatever it is, it’s the reason why, when I’m out in Lyon hours later, exploring alone, I stop in a shop and buy two things for Austin. It’s my peace offering. And possibly a passive and safe way of letting him know I like him.
Because I’m an adult and can’t say those words out loud.
When I get to the buses late that evening with my little shop bag in hand, I head straight to Austin’s bus and knock on the door, smiling to myself in anticipation of his reaction.
The door opens, and my smile disintegrates. Standing therein an oversized t-shirt—andonlyan oversized t-shirt—is the blonde girl from earlier, complete with a mussed messy bun.
Not a girl. She’s a woman. Sheiscoming out of Austin’s bus, after all.
She tilts her head to the side like I’m lost. “Can I help you?”
“Oh, um, no. I?—”
“Is that for Austin?” She indicates the bag in my hand.
I hesitate. Itisfor Austin. And if I say it’s not, how do I explain why I’m knocking on his door?
“Yeah,” I say, forcing a smile. “He asked me to pick up a couple of things while I was out.” I hand her the bag, and she takes it, peering inside.
I stiffen, but the contents should hold up to her nosy scrutiny.
“I’ll make sure he gets it,” she says sweetly as the neckline of her shirt—nope, Austin’s shirt—drops over her shoulder.
“Thanks.” I make my escape as quickly as possible, feeling like a love-sick fool who just got sucker-punched.
22
AUSTIN
My foot tapsimpatiently on the ground as I wait for my phone to buzz. Lyon is a really pretty city. Probably. I’m not in the mood to enjoy it at the moment, but I’m working on it. I’ve got a crowd to perform for tomorrow, and I want to give it my best, which means throwing off today’s funk.
My phone buzzes.
