He just stood there, not warning me of the hard arm that wrapped around my neck a second later, squeezing down on my windpipe. "Go to sleep, Gaby," Eli's voice chuckled in my ear, reminding me of when we were younger and he would practice his wrestling moves. He used to practice the “sleeper hold” on me all the time in hopes he could make me pass out. I tried tipping my mouth down to bite his arm before he pulled away, giving my earlobe a yank in the process.
The honk of a vehicle made us all turn around. A big, white van pulled up alongside the curb with a trailer hitched to it; a young guy jumped out, immediately going toward Sacha. He introduced himself as Vince, the promoter for the Australian tour, and wrangled us into the van with all of our crap. I ended up sitting between Carter and Gordo on the ride to our hotel.
Australia reminded me of what most Americans pictured Texas to be. Texas wasn't cattle and cowboys, like Perth, Australia, wasn't kangaroos and koalas on every corner.
Vince told all of us where we could eat nearby, what places to stay away from, and other stuff I was too distracted to listen to. We pulled into a decent-looking hotel, and Julian pulled my suitcase out of the back for me. The promoter got us all our room keys, and I found that our rooms were on different floors. Half of us were on the first floor while the other half were on the second floor.
On the way to drop off our luggage, I realized I was on the same floor as Mason, Gordo, Julian and Carter.
“You sure you don’t want to share a room?” Mason asked as we both stood at our respective hotel room doors, sliding our keycards through.
Propping the door open with my foot, I nodded. “Positive.” Idiot.
“If you change your mind…”
“I’ll go sleep with Gordo.”
His mouth flattened and he blinked those beautiful blue eyes at me. “I can wait until our wedding night if you want.”
I pulled my suitcase into my hotel room and blew him a kiss when only my head was hanging out of the doorway. “You are so thoughtful. Thank you for understanding.”
I let the heavy door slam shut behind me. The hotel room was clean and small, and I sure as heck wasn’t going to complain. Unzipping my suitcase, I pulled out clothes and took a nice, long shower to wash off the millions of germs I’d picked up on the three flights to Perth. I’d barely pulled on my favorite jack-o-lantern leggings when someone began banging on the door.
“Who is it?” I yelled, tugging a black tank top on.
"Sacha,Bloodsport."
Chapter Fifteen
Sacha?
I eyed myself in the mirror and shrugged. “Coming!” I called out, hustling toward the door as I wrapped a towel around my wet hair.
The lock had barely been flipped when Sacha asked from the other side, “You hungry?”
Pulling the door wide, I smiled at the fresh-faced, wet-haired man leaning against the door with his hands in his pockets. “I’m always hungry.”
The words had barely come out of my mouth when Carter and Julian walked by. “Come eat with us, Gaby.” That was my fellow merch salesman inviting me out.
I almost asked where they were planning on going, but really? It wasn’t like it mattered. “Are you guys leaving right now?”
Sacha nodded but his attention was focused lower. On my pants. And he was grinning.
“Okay, give me two minutes to change,” I said already taking a step back and pulling the towel off my head.
He lifted his gaze, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement. “Why? You look adorable.”
My cheeks went warm, but I groaned, pushed the compliment out of my head and took another step into my room, holding the door with my hand. “Yeah, yeah. These pants aren’t warm anyway. All I need is one minute, I promise.” I dashed inside, stripped off my leggings, threw the towel over a chair and put on a clean pair of jeans. Slipping Sacha’s hoodie on and my shoes, I grabbed my purse and room key. I opened the door and found my friend where I’d left him. Down the hall by the elevators, some of the other guys were waiting around.
“Ready?” Sacha asked, dragging the hood part of his jacket over my too-damp hair.
“Ready.” It was right then that I noticed he was only wearing a long-sleeved shirt since I had his jacket on. Guilt poured through my veins. What if he got sick? He was the most particular singer I’d ever met; he was always trying to take care of himself and his voice. Hell, his warm-up routine alone before each show took an hour. “Do you want your hoodie? I don’t mind staying, especially if someone brings me food back.”
He took my elbow, his fingers so long they wrapped around it with length to spare. “Keep it until you get one. You don’t need to be getting sick, Princess.”
“Are you sure?” I asked, looking up at him and eyeing his own not-so-dry hair. “No one cares if I lose my voice, but I might get stabbed if you lost yours.”
Sacha looked down at me and sort of frowned. “I’m positive. I’ll be fine.” He blinked. “Have you always been this short?”
