“It’ll be better once we leave Vegas,” he said. “It’s not me either.”
The band they were opening for had been doing a residency at one of the casinos on the Strip, but they were moving on to a regular tour schedule after one more show. He was naive if he thought the partying would slow in another city.
“Doesn’t it sorta come with the territory? They call it partying like a rock star for a reason.”
He shrugged. “Doesn’t have to.”
I was sure he was saying it for my benefit and I felt bad for complaining. I didn’t want him to hold back just because I was in a different phase of my life. “You deserve a party phase. A slut phase. Goddess knows I had one.”
He was quiet for a moment. “My parents didn’t have one and they seem just fine.”
“And you aspire to be...your parents?” I shouldn’t have been as charmed by that as I was.
There was no hesitation this time. “Fuck yeah, I do. I want what they had.”
I kissed him, helpless to contain my smile. “That shit is romantic, don’t get me wrong. But I think there’s something to be said for a solid slut phase. You learn who you are and what you like. You know something good when it comes along.”
He kissed my shoulder. “What if I don’t need that to recognize something good?”
My stomach did a little flip. This connection between us was ridiculous, but I’d be a fool to think it was more than a fling. In another time, in another place, we could’ve had something great, but the rational part of me knew it wasn’t to be. Real life didn’t work like that.
I’d been on vacation from my life, pretending I could just follow him around on tour and live the party lifestyle. But I’d been working my ass off for years and couldn’t walk away from the opportunities I created for myself.
I forced myself to remind him, “I start my internship in a few weeks. I need to get back to LA.”
“I’ll come with you.” He said it like it was a done deal.
I pulled away so I could sit up and face him. “You’re on tour, Zane. You can’t just leave.”
“Fuck that. This matters more. I’m the opening act. I might never be more than that.” He laced his fingers into mine. “This? This I’m sure of.”
My heart was thumping with excitement I had no right to be feeling. “Zane. You’re twenty-one.”
He pulled his hand away. “Don’t bring bullshit like that into this. My age doesn’t mean anything.”
How could I explain to him that twenty-year-olds think they know everything, but they don’t? That in just a few short years, he’d laugh about the time he almost quit a tour to be with some escort he met a few months before?
I couldn’t let him blow his career over an infatuation he might get over in a few more months. And I wasn’t giving up my dreams with the unfair expectation that he wouldn’t change his mind.
I leaned forward and pressed my forehead to his, memorizing the intensity of those ice blue eyes. “There’s no doubt in my mind you’ll be headlining soon. You were born to do this. It would be a travesty to give up your dreams for me.”
He stroked my cheek, the certainty in his expression never wavering. “I’m not giving them up. I can still work on music in LA.”
Goddammit, he’s serious.
“It’d be career suicide to leave this tour and you know it. I won’t let you.”
How could I impress upon him the seriousness of not blowing your dreams with rash choices made before you’re mature enough to understand how it’ll ripple through your life? I’d never had a chance like his in front of me, but I’d blown smaller opportunities in pursuit of a good time and was just now starting to get my life on track in my thirties.
He broke into a smile, blatantly trying to diffuse the tension. “Then see if you can delay your internship. Stay on the road with me and start next year. The year after. Let’s have some fun first.”
I blew out a breath, feeling like I was arguing with a younger version of myself. “Fun doesn’t pay the bills. The things I’ve done to get here, baby. I’ve worked too hard for too long to put my dreams on hold either. We can do distance. Pick back up where we left off at the end of the tour.”
I’d be a distant memory to him by then, but maybe that was for the best. He didn’t need to be tied down and I needed to stay focused.
He looked betrayed by the very suggestion of a distance relationship. “That’s nine months. So what, we chat on the phone every now and then, when we can make our schedules line up with time zones and concerts and your work? Fuck that. I’m not doing it.”
I slid my hands up his chest, forcing myself to be the reasonable one. “Why don’t we just enjoy each other while we can?”
