Page 32 of Backstage

I nod and settle down on the carpet in front of her, one shoulder resting on the couch. Her cheeks are red with wine, and her eyes are slightly shiny. I can tell she’s tipsy, because I know her enough to know that in a normal situation she wouldn’t be talking about these things with such freedom.

“Yeah. They won’t turn it away, trust me.” I smile at her. “Are you jealous?”

The idea that she might be jealous of one of her bandmates upsets me. I’ve always wondered what connection she has with Luke in particular; they’re not together, I can see that, but they have such a close relationship that I wonder if there was something in the past. Just the thought of it bothers me.

“God, no, please. They’re like brothers. I could never be jealous of their women.”

“Has there never been anything with anyone? Not even a fuck?”

The redness of her cheeks tells me I may be pushing too hard, but I’m counting on the effect of the wine. I have an almost physical need to know.

“No. It’s weird just thinking about it.” She curls her nose in horror.

I feel a weight lifting from my stomach and a smile spreading across my lips.

“What about you?” she asks.

“A fuck with my bandmates? No, that’s not my style. They’ve got too much beard for my taste.” I try to laugh it off to avoid her real question.

“No, you idiot. Have you ever had a serious woman?”

I can’t keep my jaw from twitching under the tension. “No, I don’t have time for relationships with this career.” I throw out the pre-packaged excuse that I get away with most of the time, especially with strangers.

Lilly, however, is not a stranger and stares at me for so long it seems endless. I can see in her eyes that she doesn’t believe the crap I said, but I don’t know why she lets me get away with it.

“It’s a sin,” she whispers. “Many women would give anything just to wake up next to a face like this every morning.” She stretches out her hand and places her fingers just below my lower lip. Then she gently glides them in a line towards my neck, following them with her eyes.

My heart explodes in my chest, and I’m finding it hard to swallow. If this continues, I don’t know how long I can keep my promise to Evan not to get in her pants. I close my eyes as her hand keeps going down to the neck of my T-shirt, and then she puts her palms on my chest. I grab her hand and hold it over my heart, pounding furiously. I put my glass down, and do the same with hers. She looks at me with those big eyes, scared like a fawn, and holds her breath as I approach her with my lips and touch her cheek.

“Watch where you put your hands, Lilly. You might find yourself in the wolf’s den without realizing it,” I whisper in her ear before leaving a single kiss on her neck, savoring the delicate skin with my tongue.

I hear her moan and inhale a tiny breath. When I move away, her eyelids are lowered and her lips opened with a desire that almost makes me surrender. I don’t know if she’s drunk, but she’s definitely tipsy. Otherwise, she never would have reached out that hand. I turn her around with a quick gesture and pull her to me until her back is against my chest. Her breathing is as shallow as mine.

I grab the glass and hand it to her. She accepts it with trembling fingers while I take mine. We remain silent and calm our hot spirits for a long time.

Evan’s gonna have to give me a fucking monument in the middle of Central Park for not jumping on her tonight.

“Holy cow,” I whisper, enchanted.

“I can’t believe we’re in here,” echoes Luke in an equally awed tone, as if there is some reverential fear that forces us not to disturb the quiet of this sacred place, our tour bus.

It’s the first day of the tour with the Jailbirds, or rather, tomorrow is their first concert, but we have our own little corner of the world to occupy before we start our gigs in three days.

“Have you seen this place?” asks Taylor, observing the modern, futuristic decor with wide eyes.

I go inside first and make room for the others. Our bus is a single story, with a modern living room complete with a bench and a coffee table with six seats, a small L-shaped sofa and a kitchen that extends on the opposite side. All the furniture is in white lacquered wood, the seats are black imitation leather. LEDs run along the ceiling and sides, lighting the room with a soft, diffused welcoming feel. I step forward and open the sliding door that divides the living area from the sleeping area. There are four cubicles for sleeping, two on each side. They look like the bunk beds on a spaceship. A little further on, immediately on the right, a bathroom is equipped with a toilet, a small sink with a mirror on top, and a cabinet for toiletries. On the left, separate from the bathroom, is a shower with a small retractable cabinet spacious enough to hang your clothes without getting them wet while showering. Finally, separated by a sliding door at the back of the bus, is the most spectacular room of all: a TV room with a flat-screen and a black imitation leather sofa covering the three sides of the small room.

“Guys, I found our paradise,” I shout to get their attention. In a handful of seconds, they rush in and push me down onto the closest couch cushions.

“This place is great for bringing girls!” Martin seems to light up, and I look at him.

“Don’t even think about fucking anyone in here. I don’t want to sit on your bodily fluids the whole tour,” I threaten him with disgust.

Taylor and Luke burst out laughing and push Martin around until he sits next to me.

Luke backs me up. “I have to agree with Lilly on this one. We have four people living together for months in these confined spaces. We need rules.”

Martin rolls his eyes as if his friend’s response was predictable.

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