A loud shriek interrupts my response, and our heads spin around. At the end of the aisle is a blonde woman, probably around my age, standing frozen and staring right at me. The shampoo bottle slips from her hand and falls to the ground, exploding. Ellie jumps back, trying not to get splattered.
“You’re Travis Beckett,” she says more calmly than she looks.
“That’s me.”
“Oh my God, OK. Wow. Can I get a picture with you?”
I smile and step around the mess to her. “Sure.”
She holds up her phone, and I lean in while she takes several selfies. When I go to pull away, she grabs my wrist. “Wait.” She digs in her purse, producing a pen and writing on my hand before I can protest.
Normally, I wouldn’t protest, I’d hand her my phone and tell her to put her number there. She’s cute, with long hair and rosy cheeks, but Ellie and I are having fun again. I’m no longer bored to tears with dull-ass groupies. We aren’t fucking, which is a shame, but I’m getting off, and it’s still better than sticking my dick in some desperate chick. They don’t feel good. They don’t feel like Ellie does. My eyes flash to her, wondering if she’s upset, but it seems like she’s fighting the urge to laugh.
“Call me,” the girl says, as she walks away. I glance at the numberAshelyleft on my palm and then to Ellie.
“Can’t go anywhere with you anymore.” She picks up my hand and examines the number, doodled with the woman’s name and a little heart. “Cute,” she says, her voice a little more clipped now than it was a minute ago.
“Not interested.”
She rolls her eyes. We haven’t had any talks about being exclusive with whatever it is we’re doing. I highly doubt she’ll bring that up again after my reaction last time, but I’m happy with our setup. It’s just easier since we’re on tour and changing cities so often.
Bringing my palm to my mouth, I stick my tongue out and lick my skin, erasing the ink with my spit until nothing’s left. Her brows jump and her pouty lips twitch as I rub my hand across my pants, then drape my arm across her shoulders.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know.”
“I mean, we’re not—you can do whatever you want,” she stammers, as I usher us toward the checkout.
“Like I said, not interested.”
“We should probably stop. We’re breaking so many rules.”
“Don’t think we are. We haven’t slept together. We haven’t even touched each other.” I want to touch her. Real fucking bad. “If you need more,” I start, but my jaw clenches. I hadn’t really thought about her needing something else, something more. I have no claim on her. She’s free to do whatever.
“I’m not—I don’t,” she blurts out. “I’ve been in a bit of a slump. It’s hard making connections on tour.” My jaw loosens, the tension slipping away. “Wait.” She stops, tugging me in the opposite direction I was headed. “I forgot something.”
“Ugh, I want to gooo. What is it?”
“Underwear.”
“Alright then,” I say, picking up my pace. I’m more than happy to help her choose some underwear, especially if I’ll get to see her in them.
“That’swhat you’re getting?” I frown at the plain cotton shorts she grabs. They’re so not sexy.
“I need these for...personal reasons.”
“What? Ohhhh.” I never had a sister, but I had Pacey, and let me tell you, I wasn’t prepared for the sass that could come from her sweet, small frame when she was having ‘her time.’ She sent me and Penn on a snack run once. We couldn’t find the brand of chips she wanted. Instead, we got three other brands of the same damn chip. Big mistake. Huge.
She was only sixteen. I didn’t even know she knew that many cuss words at that age. I was baffled by the filth that came out of her, all over some chips. We left the snacks and ran out of there as fast as we could. Five minutes later, she found us in the garage. She apologized and cried for twenty minutes. It was a wild ride.
“I’ll grab some of these, too, if that would make you happy.” She holds up a silky black thong.
“Nah, get the comfortable ones. I prefer you in nothing, anyway.” I wiggle my eyebrows, and hers furrow as she studies my face, then she tilts her head back and laughs. Fuck, that's such a pretty sound. Second only to her moans.
She starts to take a step, then pauses and turns back, plucking a pale blue thong that closely resembles the color of my eyes from a rack. She tosses me a wink and struts toward the registers.
My hearts jumps, and so does my dick as I picture her in nothing but the lacy material, splayed across my sheets.
