Page 8 of Clandestine

“You know, we’ll have plenty of time to get ready before we take our stuff to the venue, right? Besides, who do you care about seeing you exactly the way you are?”

“Uhm, hot rockstars, duh.”

“I hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but a hot rockstar is looking right at you, and I’m enjoying every bit of the view.” And I’m not lying. I really am. Her little sleep outfit does everything it needs to do and then some. Her perfect curves are hidden by nothing.

“You don’t count, Jaxie.” She looks at me with eyes full of innocence and sincerity, but I know she doesn’t mean it.Hopefully.

“Oof. You wound me, princess. Really.” I clutch my chest as if I’ve been shot in the heart. I’m torn between the hurt of being told that I don’t count and the feeling of hearing her call me by my childhood nickname. The one only she calls me, and only when she’s truly comfortable. Of course, I have other shortened versions of my name that I’m called, but she’s the only one I will allow to call meJaxie. Partially because it’s the cutest shit I’ve ever heard coming from her lips, and also because, as my girl, even unbeknownst to her, she deserves to have her own name for me.

“Of course, I count. Who do you think is supposed to introduce our new groupie—that’s you—to all the hot rockstarsthat youthinkcount?” I’m not doing that, by any fucking means, but I’ll let her believe it for now.

“As if I need a wingman,” she says coolly, disappearing into the bathroom.

I run my hand through my hair, trying to shake the bubbling feeling in my chest. How long can you love one girl? Is she really this oblivious to my feelings for her, or is she playing the long game too? Fuck, I don’t know.

Panning my eyes around the bus, I look for something else to occupy my time. Sydnee is on the couch with a pen in hand, writing music.

“That was painful to watch,” she says without looking up from her notebook.

I huff. “Then close your eyes.”

“Even if I hadn’t seen it, what did you expect me to do, plug my damn ears?”

“Well, no, but, like, butt out for a minute.” I turn back around to gander around the mini fridge. Don’t ask for what, just to not be forced to hold Syd’s eye contact.

“You don’t wonder if she would’ve given in by now if she reciprocated the feelings?” Syd asks.

“It’s not like that. Things have always been like this between us. There’s a push and a pull. But you haven’t seen any of that.”

“Calm down, I’m just curious since you’ve never spoken about her before, and that says something since you don’t shut the hell up,” she teases.

“It’s complicated.”

Fuck. Now I feel disgusted with myself. Being in love with a girl who probably sees every bit of my bullshit and still doesn’t give me the time of day. How the fuck do I change that? If I could play the guitar and win her over like every other groupie, this would be a walk in the park. But she loves our music because she’s watched us grow from a tiny garage band to touring sold-out stadiums, not because of our fame. Having her follow us on tour for the first time hardly seems like the best time to change her mind, but when in Ohio, I guess.

SEVEN

HALE

I feel like shit after my nap, but it doesn't offset the excitement buzzing within me when we step off the bus. Obviously, we have to unload our bags and suitcases into the hotel room, but I’m bouncing on my feet to finally see the venue up close. I have VIP access to every fucking performance this weekend. When I read the set list and saw that Obsidian Static and From Stars To Evolution were performing during Twisted Tours, my entire body had a meltdown. The guys of From Stars To Evolution are so fucking hot that it’s painful. Yes, they’re probably too old for me, but who could possibly blame me?

Obsidian Static has their own insane chemistry. The vibes you get while watching them perform makes you never want to look away.

As we’re heading to the hotel lobby, a small wiener dog runs to my feet, wagging its cute little tail.

“Mildred, come back here,” a man calls out for the pup. “I’m so sorry, she usually has much better manners than this.”

Holy. Fucking. Shit. The lead singer of Obsidian Static’s dog just chose to come to me. Okay, okay. Play it cool. This is fine. You’re on the clock, not a groupie.

“Oh, no worries at all! I love animals,” I say confidently. “Her name is Mildred, you said?”

“That’s her, the ornery thing.” He huffs.

“Do you mind if I pet her?” I ask, already making eye contact with the furry girl.

“Not at all. She loves people, and she’s obviously taken a liking to you.”

I bend down to scratch behind her ear, and her tail goes wild over it. The moment doesn’t last long before I hear my stepbother—yes,bother,as in bothering me—calling out my name.

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