A throat clearing behind Travis seems to snap us both out of our trance, and we jump apart like two teenagers who’ve just been caught by their parents. Straightening my shirt and picking invisible lint from my clothes, I refuse to look up and meet her eyes just yet. I know who it is, and I’ve just realized how our “embrace” must have looked.
“Katelyn.” Travis gives her a single nod. His voice holds no hint of embarrassment while I can feel the heat in my face, burning my skin from the inside out. “You need something?”
“Yes,” she replies sharply. “I need you two to take this to your bus and let me in my room.”
Travis turns to face her completely, effectively shielding me from her, and places his hands on his hips in an obviously pissed-off body posture.
“I suggest you change your tone with me right now, Katelyn.” He emphasizes her name. “There’s nothing to ‘take to my bus.’ We just literally smacked into each other, and I almost knocked her out before we’ve even left the parking lot. I caught her before she fell.”
“Oh,” Katelyn says, noticeably and adequately chastised. “Well, I hope neither of you is injured. Do I need to call to have you checked out before we leave?”
“No. We’re fine. Thanks for asking.” Travis is still pissed off. No doubt about it.
“Travis, let’s move so Katelyn can get to her room and unpack,” I suggest.
Travis takes an extra few seconds to stare Katelyn down before he looks over his shoulder at me. “Good idea. Why don’t you come check out my bus? You can hang out with us for a while. You’ll have plenty of time on this bus later.”
Not feeling like I really have a choice now that Katelyn definitely hates me even more, I nod in agreement and follow Travis off the bus. I feel the weight of Katelyn’s stare as I pass by her and then the sting of the daggers in my back as I make my way to the front of the bus.
Shit, this will be a long six months at this rate.
Maybe one of the Fireflies girls wants to trade rooms.
My bus is nice. Travis’s bus is extravagant. The bedrooms are in the back of the bus, but the living area is arranged differently. He has a huge flat screen TV mounted on the wall with every game console known to civilized man. His movie collection is extensive, and there are rows and rows of notebooks on the bookshelves.
As I run my fingers across the spiraled metal coils, he simply says, “For writing songs.”
I nod. “That makes sense. A lot of time on the road to come up with the next hit song, right?”
“Something like that,” he says. “Inspiration helps.”
“I don’t know how you come up with the lyrics to your songs. They’re just perfect. They flow, one word leads into the meaning of the next, and you tell an entire story within a matter of minutes. It’s amazing,” I gush. I still feel like a star-struck idiot around him sometimes.
“That’s the best compliment I’ve ever heard, Andi. You have no idea how much I appreciate that. I put a lot of thought into my words and the meaning of my songs.”
“My pleasure,” I reply. “I honestly mean it, by the way.”
Kale boards the bus, walks straight to me, and wraps his arm around my shoulders. “I’m so glad you’re rooming with us, Andi. The road gets very lonely sometimes. I will consider sharing you with Travis, but only after I’ve had you first.”
Laughing at his crazy antics, I playfully shove him away from me. “Shut up, Kale! You should’ve brought your blow-up girlfriend if you get that lonely.”
Travis and Kale both laugh heartily and Travis points at Kale. “I told you she wouldn’t put up with your shit.” Turning his gaze to me, Travis explains. “Kale thought you’d be too sweet to put him in his place.”
“Oh, please. I worked in a gym full of muscular, sweaty boxers who all thought they were God’s only gift to women. There’s nothing I haven’t heard by now. I can take care of myself,” I assert.
“You’re just full of surprises, Andi. I can’t wait to see what else you have in store for us,” Kale says with a wink before he moves on to his bedroom.
“You sure he didn’t offend you? He was joking. He’s had that planned for a week,” Travis admits.
“No, not at all. I expected worse, actually. That was tame.”
Travis looks impressed. “Don’t let him hear you say that. He’ll make this tour pure hell, and we haven’t even left the parking lot yet.”
“I heard that, dickhead,” Kale calls from his room, causing us both to laugh.
“I meant for you to, shithead,” Travis yells back.
Mike and Drew are next to board, and Cami, Leslie, Jade, and Crystal quickly follow them. We all find a seat in the living room, and Travis turns on the TV. Settling in to a comfortable, friendly conversation about how we’re bound to get on each other’s nerves in such close quarters, I feel myself relaxing.
