Page 17 of Loved Out Loud
“Please.” I give him the look my mom always calls puppy dog eyes. “I’m not a target for anything. They just assigned you to me in case I get caught in a crowd or something. As you can probably tell, I won’t be venturing into a mosh pit at any point. Just stand beside me, so I don’t feel so weird.”
He rolls his shoulder but moves toward me. He positions himself with his back to the wall, so he’s actually facing me but has a clear line of sight on the door as well. It’s better than him standing behind me, but if he’s going to be my shadow at every concert, I want to get to know him.
“Do you like their music?” I ask.
“Everyone likes Blue Sunday.”
My lips quirk up. “Not everyone.”
“You don’t?” he asks, his shoulders loosening a bit.
“No, I do. The songs I’ve heard at least. I’m not a huge fan, though.”
He nods, and that’s the end of the conversation. I’m okay with it. At least we’ve opened a dialogue. I can’t have someone following me around without being on speaking terms. It’s too weird.
The rest of the concert is incredible. I knew they were amazing musicians, but seeing that talent showcased with their performance puts them into a new focus for me. I wasn’t sure whether I’d want to go to more than a couple concerts, but now I want to experience the music and show from every imaginablepart of the venues. In the crowd. Near the pit. Maybe even someday from backstage, if I can manage to get my tears under control.
Dan herds me toward the exit several songs before the end of the show. I don’t particularly want to get stuck in the ruckus of the crowd while they file out of the venue, so I allow him to guide me along the mezzanine toward the backstage area. We pass venue security, and Dan relaxes the tiniest bit.
We take an elevator down to ground level and exit out a large loading door. Roadies mill around already beginning to load up a semi full of equipment. He leads me to an all-black bus with deeply tinted windows.
“Your overnight bag is inside on your bunk, the other luggage is below. I’ll stay out here until the band is on the bus and we’re ready to leave. You can go on up and get settled before they come out.”
“Thank you, Dan. Have a good night.”
He gives me a brief smile and nod but then returns to his security pose at the steps to the bus.
The interior of the bus catches me off guard; it’s so luxurious yet homey. One side of the front room holds a long leather couch with a small dining table and two benches. Beyond the table is what appears to be a small coffee bar with one of those pod coffee pots and a sleeve of paper cups.
Across from the couch are two swivel chairs with a small table between them and then a kitchenette with a little sink, microwave, and full-size refrigerator. I walk back further and find two sets of bunks on one wall and one more opposite it. My bag is on top of the bottom bunk, so I set my purse beside it and then keep exploring. There’s a toilet and sink to one side and a full size shower on the other, separated on either side of the hall into their own separate spaces, which makes sense in case more than one person needs it. Further back is a room with a variety ofcomfortable seating options and several guitars, a keyboard, and a violin. The latter takes me by surprise. There’s also some other equipment I can’t identify.
I feel like this isn’t a place I should be, so I walk back to the front of the bus and open the fridge in search of something to drink. It’s full of sports and energy drinks, bottled water, juice, and soda. I grab a Diet Coke and pull my phone out, opening my text thread with Greg.
Greg: Why did you decline my call?
Greg: Are you upset about last night?
Greg: Sorry if I was out of line, you were just frustrating me.
I sigh, rereading the messages several times as I decide what to do. I know he doesn’t always handle things in the best way. I don’t want to piss him off by not responding now that he’ll see I’ve read his messages though.
Me: I was at the concert, no worries
Greg: How was it?
Me: More fun than I thought it would be
Greg: Where are you now?
Me: On the tour bus
I hear a commotion heading this way, voices yelling for the band.
Me: The band is about to get on the bus, I’ll talk to you later
I set my phone aside and take a deep breath. Tobias is up first, his shirt slung over his shoulder, and his jeans riding low on his hips. He flashes me a quick grin as he walks past.
“Enjoy the show?” he asks over his shoulder.
