I push to my feet and pull the handle on my suitcase. Travis steps up and takes it, rolling by the door, while I grab my other bag and frantically shove things inside.
“Ellie, slow down.”
“I can’t, I’m late. Tanner is probably cursing me right now. I’m holding everyone up.” I attempt to zip the bag, but it’s stuffed so full, it gets snagged. I grunt, punching it.
“No one cares. I told you they’re eating. You have plenty of time. Here, let me.” He opens the bag, adjusting the crap I crammed inside until it zips.
“Thanks,” I mumble, flopping on the bed and burying my face in my hands.
The bed dips as he sits next to me. “Are you being shy?”
“No.”
“Then why are you hiding? Did you not have fun last night?” He bumps my shoulder, but I refuse to peel my hands off my face.
“Of course I had fun, but what happened was bad. Really bad, Travis.”
“Oh, no, I promise you it was sooo good. My dick is chubbed up right now just thinking about it.”
My head pops up, and I glare at him. “Can you be serious for one second? I am so fired!” I cry. “I’m such a slut.”
He grabs my hand before I can cover my face again and places it on his lap, letting me feel the bulge there. Ok, he wasn’t kidding.
“I’m being dead serious. I’ll probably rub one out later to the memory. You’re not getting fired, Liam isn’t going to say anything. And don’t fucking talk about yourself like that,” he says, his voice turning agitated.
“Let’s just go.” I get up and grab my bag while Travis wheels my suitcase down the hall.
“I mean it, Ellie, don’t talk about my friend like that.”
I stop and face him. I’m confused at first, thinking I said something about Liam, but then he wraps his arm around my shoulders.
“You’re the coolest chick I know, and not just because of what happened last night. You’re comfortable in your own skin, and the only people who think there’s something wrong with that are people who hate themselves. You know exactly who you are—a complete badass—and I wouldn’t change a damn thing about you.”
I swallow, unsure of what to say, so I stay quiet, letting him lead me to the bus.
FacingLiam wasn’t as bad as I thought. It was uncomfortable making eye contact with him when I stepped onto the bus, but we have twelve and a half hours to let the tension and awkwardness seep away.
It seems to be working. Halfway through the trip, we’re all crowded around the living area, watching a band documentary. It’s rare that we hang out like this together. Everyone’s always exhausted and desperate to hide in our own corners because we’re in each other’s faces all day, but it’s nice. Even nicer because Calvin’s driving us.
“Can you imagine being on tour in the eighties and nineties? Shit was so much crazier then,” Travis says, stretching his long legs out across the floor, draping one across my thigh. I jerk away and shoot him a glare. Tanner is sitting at the kitchen table. Liam and Penn are on the couch, and I’m sitting on the floor, my back resting against the small end table.
Liam shakes his head. “There were no safety precautions.”
“Yeah, fucking sweet right?” Travis grins.
“People throw things at them! Full bottles of beer and water,” Liam says, wide-eyed. “At least now they take the cap off so they can’t just chuck it at you.”
“Yeah, and they only pass out the small bottles, too,” Travis notes, a hint of disappointment coating his words. “Hey, how come none of you play a brass instrument. We’d be so much cooler.”
“Yeah, you should pick that up,” Penn tells him.
“Me? I’m the lead singer, it can’t be me.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t have the look.”
“The look?”
