Milo squinted suspiciously at her. “You made that up.”
“Nothing gets by him,” Violet told me.
“I don’t want an entire Pop-Tart pack to myself… but I’ll split one with you,” I suggested.
Violet beamed. “I’m gonna love having a girlfriend on this tour.”
“Have fun braiding each other’s hair,” Milo teased as we walked away.
But when I glanced over my shoulder, I caught Riot watching me.
11
Roxie
The drive north to Fort Worth was uneventful, aside from Milo throwing a fit when Cash drove past two exits in a row that had brunch options. But he calmed down once we stopped at a Waffle House and ordered enough food to feed an army.
Fort Worth was the twin city to Dallas—albeit smaller and more quaint. Cash parked the tour bus next to our hotel for the evening: Dryce, a boutique hotel that was located right across from the Dickies Arena, the venue where we were playing.
We. Funny how quickly I thought of myself as part of the band.
Riot was quiet during the trip, hunched over a stack of sheet music while listening to music so loudly I could hear it through his headphones. Everyone else left him alone, so I did the same… even though I still felt obsessed with the sexy lead singer. I wanted to have any kind of interaction with him, even something as small as chatting about where he grew up and how he got into music.
Everyone was on their own once we checked into the hotel. I had a lot of work to get done, so I holed myself up in my room and knocked out a bunch of tasks from my to-do list that I wasn’table to complete on the bus while I was pretending not to stare at Riot.
That evening, someone knocked on my door. I hopped up, fluffing out my hair in the mirror for a few seconds before opening the door.
But it wasn’t Riot who was there.
“Milo and I are gonna grab drinks in the hotel bar,” Cash told me. “And maybe figure out a place to get dinner. We’re still not sure if we want to go out, or order in. You should join us.” He glanced past me. “As long as I’m not keeping you from any work…”
“I’d love to. Let me change clothes real quick.”
Cash and Milo were already at a table in the bar, which had tall windows facing out toward the domed concert venue. “I was going to order you a gin and tonic, but Cash told me to wait,” Milo said.
“I love a good G&T,” I said, waving to the bartender.
Milo gave Cash a playful shove. “Told you. It’s my superpower.”
“What is?” I asked, taking the seat across from them.
“He thinks he can figure out someone’s favorite drink after a five minute conversation,” Cash said, skepticism dripping from every word.
“It’s not my favorite drink right now,” I said. “Oneof my favorites. But not at the top.”
“Of course. Your favorite is…” Milo scrunched up his face while studying me. “French 75.”
I blinked in shock. “How’d you know that?”
Milo clapped his hands together. “Ah hah!”
“That’s not your favorite drink,” Cash said, a statement rather than a question.
“It actually is. It’s been my favorite since I had it at a friend’s wedding about a year ago. I wish I were joking.”
Milo raised an eyebrow. “And what was your drink of choice prior to that?”
I smiled.
