She rolls her bright green eyes. “Please. Just looking out for you. If you go on stage and suck, I have to clean up your mess online.”
I give her a wide smile that saystoo bad, and she shakes her head and walks away.
“Get it together, man.” Penn drops down beside me, looking almost as exhausted as me. His black hair is messy, facial hair he usually keeps shaven is starting to create ashadow across his jaw, and his normally bright blue eyes are dull and tired.
I stay up getting drunk and messing around. He just doesn’t sleep. Like ever. He’s always struggled with insomnia, so I think he’s used to running on fumes by now, but I’m not.
The coffee burns my throat as I chug the rest. “Just needed a little pick-me-up.”
Penn stares at me, his gaze searing into mine. I know what he’s doing, so I turn away. He’s trying to read me, see what’s going on inside my head. I hate when he does that. He’s normally good about giving me my space; he knows I’ll come to him if I need him, but I can tell by the look in his eyes he’s worried. I don’t need him to be. I get enough shit from Tanner; I don’t need him on my ass, too.
“Let’s run it again.”
A collective sigh comes from everyone at Tanner’s demand. We’ve been at it for two hours, and our time is up. Of course that’s not enough for him.
“You’re missing the first note, Travis. Every time.”
I honestly don’t know how he has the time to bitch at me about every single thing. He’s the busiest motherfucker I know. Not only is he our bassist, but he co-owns the label we signed to as well. His grandpa owns the other half, but it’s not like he’s actually involved in any way. Tanner just refused to take a no-strings attached loan from him.
We hired Calvin, yet he still has trouble letting him do his job without inserting himself. I know he feels the need to control everything to keep his anxieties in check, but damn.
“I’m not missing shit.” That’s a lie. I heard it.
“You’re too slow today. If you can’t strum fast enough, say it.”
“I can strum just fine,” I growl, jerking my guitar over my head. “You know what? I don’t need this shit. I’m done for today.” I stalk out and head straight for the bus, leaving my guitar on the table for someone else to deal with—probably Calvin—and crawl into my tiny-ass bunk bed and close my eyes.
All I’d ever wanted to do was this. Not sleep in this too-small bed on a bus, but make music. I just wanted to play music with my best friends. I never really thought I’d see the day when we had a legit tour bus and crew, headlining, and traveling the planet. I’m not sure how I feel about it, to be honest. Should be fucking stoked, but I’m starting to resent everything.
3
ELLIE
I grabthe white Gibson guitar decorated in decals and tuck it away in Travis’s case carefully.
The bus is spacious enough, with wood-paneled walls and dark flooring, and warm white lighting throughout. The beds are in the back, stacked over each other with curtains as a barrier. I stalk silently to the beds. Travis’s bunk is in the very back, right above Penn’s, and across from mine. I don’t sleep here often. I’m lucky enough to get a decent hotel room, but it comes in handy on long drives.
Travis is stretched out on the top bunk, a long leg draped over the side. Honestly, they’re all too big for these beds. It’s no wonder they’re so exhausted.
I can’t imagine running myself ragged every day, then having to sleep on a bus most nights. They’re on the road for sixteen weeks. It’s been just over a month, and I can see them stretching thin already. Show after show, night after night. Traveling, meet and greets, and media stuff, too—the very bare minimum—because they hate it, and tension has started mounting. Since they’re indie, they take care of it all. They’re too unconventional to sign to a big-name label.They’d never be able to follow the rules. They have to do things their own way. That’s why they never accepted any of the offers from labels that reached out last year, and why I’m pretty sure Tanner’s working on creating his own label.
I watch him sleep for a moment, hoping he’s actually resting and not faking like he does sometimes, then slip out and exit the bus. I run smack dab into a hard chest and bounce back.
“Sorry about that,” Liam says, steadying me with a warm smile. He’s hard not to love. Adorable and sweet with his dirty blond curls that fly just right while he’s banging on his drums, and big dimples. His golden skin and green eyes rival my own. He’s not broody like Penn or rude like Tanner. He’s not an asshole like Travis.
I straighten and step out of the way so he can board the bus. “It’s ok.”
“How is he?”
“He’s sleeping.”
He nods, a flash of worry crossing his face. I put my hand on his arm, trying to comfort him. Something about him still seems so innocent even though I know he’s not. “I’m sure he’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep,” I assure, even though I’m not sure at all. It’s clear Travis is struggling, but he won’t let anyone close enough to help him.
Liam gives me a half smile—only one of his dimples popping out. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I’m gonna go see if I can join him.”
“Sleep tight.” I start to turn toward my hotel when Calvin’s hushed voice stops me in my tracks.
“How much? How soon can you get them? No, that won’t work. I’ll be in another city by then. Just figure it out. I need them like yesterday.”
