“Nothing is set in stone. I said that! No one made any decisions without you. Ellie’s starting drama with her big mouth.”
My shoulders straighten, and I’m three feet from the kitchen where everyone is. My foot lifts, ready to march in there and punch him in his stupid butt chin, but then Travis pipes up, and I freeze.
“Watch your fucking mouth before I put my fist in it.”
Calvin lets out a bitter laugh. “Sorry, my bad. Thought you two were done with your…whatever that was.”
My heart pounds harder, at Travis’s threat or Calvin’s dig, I’m not sure. Not that Calvin knows anything. He wasn’t around then, but he was there when I signed my contract. He knows what it entails—no fraternizing with the lead singer.
“Oh, shut up!” Travis spits.
All their heads whip around in my direction as I strut into the room. “Excuse you,” I say, channeling all my strength not to claw his eyes out. “I do not have a big mouth.” I kind of do, but not in the way he means. I do not spread drama for the hell of it. Besides, why did I know before Penn? That makes no sense. “I was venting to my best friend about the possibility of additional stops being added on without my knowledge. I thought I was the last one to know.” I prop my hands on my hips and send Calvin the meanest scowl I can manage.
“You weren’t. Apparently, this is the Tanner and Calvin show, and we’re all just along for the ride,” Penn says dryly.
Calvin’s hands go up in surrender as everyone but Tanner shoots daggers at him. I don’t even see Liam, but my guess is he’s hiding from the drama. Tanner appears bored, staring at nothing as everyone bickers back and forth.
“Look, everyone calm down. It was only an idea. This is good news! More stops, more money.” Calvin tries to sell it, but that was the wrong thing to say to these guys.
Travis barks out a sarcastic laugh. “We don’t do this for the money, you fuckwad. I’m calling a band meeting right now!” He pounds a fist on the small table. “Someone get Liam. I know he’s not asleep.” When no one moves, Travis yells to the back of the bus, “Liam, get the hell out here. Band meeting!”
Liam sheepishly shuffles into the kitchen and slides into the booth across from Travis.
“No more decision-making unless every single person in this room”—heswivels a finger around to each of us, and my heart skips a little, grateful he’s including me—“is there. Got it? If not, you can fuck off and find someone else to sing.”
I bite back my smile at Calvin’s annoyed expression—it’s nothing new. But Tanner seems a teeny bit regretful, and Penn looks proud as he stares at Travis.
Everyone nods in agreement.
“Ok, go back to bed. Get some rest. We can talk more about this on break,” Calvin says.
The guys head down the hall, except Travis. He runs a hand through his thick mohawk. The tips were a bright blue at the start of the tour, but are now fading, turning back to their original stark white color.
My nerves are shot once again tonight, and I know sleep will be nonexistent, so I take the seat across from him. “Thanks for that.” I keep my voice quiet, not wanting Calvin to overhear.
“You deserve to be kept in the loop, too, May. You’re one of us now.”
I smile. His old nickname for me—my middle name—reappearing from nowhere. He only ever called me that when we were alone.
“I appreciate it. How are you sleeping?”
He rolls his eyes like I’m a bother, and I might be. I’d never have thought this would be the type of relationship we’d have. I’m not used to worrying about someone so much. I liked it better when we were just friends,barelyfriends. It was mostly benefits. And the benefits were good.
So freaking good.
But now that I’ve gotten to know him better and I’m around him all the time, I notice things, things that worry me because I care for him. I care for all of them, and I want them to succeed. I want it for them so damn bad.
Travis simply shrugs, not bothering to respond to my question. I let him off the hook and switch gears. “I think youshould do pink next.” He looks up, eyes finally hitting mine. They’re a pale blue color, but they’re bloodshot and tired. Deep bags underneath, and not even a tiny spark of the fire I’m used to seeing from him.
“Pink?”
“Yeah. Your mohawk. Let’s dye it pink.” I reach over and finger the fading tips.
He watches my hand until I let it fall to the table. “Yeah, sure.”
I perk up. “Really? Can I do it?”
“Yep.”
