Rav grabbed his hand, as he leaned across to peer from the window. “Is that paparazzi?”
“I expected interest from a few journalists, but not this.” Harvey spoke from the seat next to them. “This is next level.”
The paps rushed the front car meaning Rafe and Parker would be facing them first. Rav’s grip tightened as he witnessed the commotion outside. Bo’s heart went out to him—Rav hated the interest from random people trying to get a snap of him and Harvey and this was like Aussie press on steroids.
“There’re so many of them,” Ravi said, eyes wide as they watched them swarm around Parker and Rafe.
“It’s okay, Rav,” Harvey said. “We don’t need to speak to them. I’ve got you. Just ignore them and follow me straight through to the hotel doors. Security will stop them coming inside.” He looked to Bo. “Are you okay?”
Bo nodded. He was awed by the whole thing, but he would be fine running the gauntlet. “I’m good. You guys go.” Still, when Harvey climbed over him, exiting the vehicle and taking Rav by the hand, he had to push down the flash of abandonment.It’s not their fault.
While the photographers were occupied, Bo jumped from the car and darted into the hotel reception. He quickly glanced around, spying the others across the foyer and made his way over to the group. He didn’t attract any attention as he stood on the sidelines among the band members, their partners, Nigel, and some woman he hadn’t seen before. Before too long, they were bundled upstairs and into a suite.
As soon as the door closed, Rav rushed to his side. Bo pulled him into a hug. “That was crazy, wasn’t it?”
“I’m so sorry, Bo.”
He stroked Rav’s hair. “Hey, it’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. I feel like an arsehole. It’s my fault you were left behind.”
“Hey, we all discussed this, remember? I said I was fine with it, and I meant it.” He said the words with as much confidence as he could muster. Rav would only feel worse if he knew the truth, and Rav’s happiness was the most important thing, not his own hurt feelings.
Harvey joined them. “It’s not too late. I know we agreed to wait until all the fuss had died down to be open about our relationship, but we can always change our mind. I know Nigel is worried about the negative impact on the band’s reputation without careful management, but I don’t care what Nigel says and I know the boys are behind us.”
“No. No. Don’t say anything. Let’s stick to the plan. We just need to get through this trip and the hype surrounding it, then after the ARIA’s are over, we can go visit Rav’s parents and talk to them.” Bo grasped Rav’s hand. “That’s what you still want, right, Rav?”
Ravi nodded. “I just didn’t think it would be so hard. Are we going to have the press hounding us everywhere we go? I hate the idea of Bo being left out.”
“Don’t worry about me.” Bo smiled. “We’re in LA. We’re in a top hotel and there’s a bucket with a bottle of champagne in it. I suggest we pop that cork and celebrate all being here together.”
Harvey mirrored his grin. “That’s a great idea. What do you say, Rav?”
While Harvey opened the champagne, Bo popped his head into the other rooms of the suite. There were two bedrooms, one with a king bed, and a massive bathroom with a huge round spa bath. He returned to the living room, this time with a genuine smile. “There’s an amazing bath,” he said, taking a flute from Harvey. “How about bubblesandbubbles?”
So that’s how they spent their first night in the US—drinking French champagne while soaking in a mass of fragranced foam, then falling asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms in the crisp linen sheets.
For the second night in a row, Bo found himself drinking champagne. He’d taken a glass from the tray offered by the server as they’d entered the club where the party was being held. The band’s management company, Richardson Enterprises, had arranged the function to help cement HyperOctane’s position as one of the top bands from Australia.
The music was loud, and the drinks flowed. Across the crowded room, under the old-fashioned disco ball, people were dancing to the band.
“Hey, it’s the Bad Boys,” Rav said. “I love those guys.”
They were another local Aussie band who’d cracked the US charts. “I saw them play back in Perth. They’re awesome.”
He glanced around and saw Harvey and the rest of the guys talking to their manager with obligatory introductions underway judging from the handshakes.
“Do you think he gets sick of it?” Bo asked, gesturing to the group.
Ravi shrugged. “I know he’d rather be playing, but he’s invested in the success of the band. God, he looks good though.”
“Fuck yeah.”
Harvey looked the part of a rock star, and it was look he wore effortlessly—tight black jeans with a rip mid-thigh, boots, and a simple T-shirt that clung to his pecs. Leather straps adored his wrists, and his mane of hair was loose around his face. Thick stubble graced his jaw and Bo automatically raised his hand to his own chin where the skin still stung. He couldn’t help the smile at the memory of the way they’d spent the wee early hours of the morning. They’d needed to do something to pass the time when they’d woken due to the jetlag. As if sensing them watching, Harvey looked across and smiled when his gaze landed on the two of them, before turning his attention back to the people he was with.
Parker appeared at Bo’s side, glass in hand. “Are you guys having a good time?”
“It’s amazing. I feel like a movie star,” Bo said holding up his champagne flute.
