just inside the door. I wonder what cue I’m missing.
“Go on,” he says. “Brush your teeth. Get in your pajamas.”
Huh? I think. What does this mean? Dare I hope this signals a change in this “friendship” of ours? I step into the bathroom and turn on the tap. It takes me a few minutes to wash my face, brush my teeth, and change into my sweats. I started sleeping in sweats when I decided not to be easy anymore. It just seemed to go with the new lifestyle, but it’s less than ideal when I have Zach Wechsler sitting on my bed. I poke my head out and he smiles at me.
Yeah, this won’t do. I duck back in and twist my hair into pigtails. That’s the best I can manage to de-frump my image. When I step all the way out, he’s waiting for me, shoes off and feet up on my bed, lounging. As I move closer, he gets to his feet and pulls down the covers for me. “M’lady.”
Straight to bed?
I climb in. This mattress is a little narrow, but sometimes it’s better that way. Some of the best sex happens when you can only move so much. Because sex is what’s about to happen, right? Not that it would make any sense.
Zach pulls the covers up over me and kneels down on the floor next to my bed. “So,” he says, “you survived your first day of the tour.”
I look into those steely blue eyes. “I guess so.”
“I’d say they get easier, but they don’t. The longer we’re out, the crankier people get. It can be bad.”
I can’t help but watch his lips as he speaks. “Oh joy,” I say.
“But it’ll be all right. It always is.”
I’m not sure if he wants me lying down or propped up on my elbow or what. I’m beyond confused about what’s going on here.
“So what are your rules?” he asks.
Rules? What on earth is he talking about? Is he into hardcore kink? Do I need to come up with a safe word? I’m too tired to think of a good one.
“No being seen together in public,” he ticks off on one finger. “No being too, ah, familiar even around just the rest of the crew. Do you want to set a curfew? Am I breaking it?”
”Huh? No, I—”
“I was kidding. People know we’re just friends.”
Ouch.
“Goodnight,” he whispers. “Sleep tight. I’ll see you in the morning, and I’ll keep things strictly professional in public. Promise.” He holds out a hand to me.
Not knowing what he wants, I take it, and he gives me a gentle kiss on the knuckles, the touch of his lips feather-light.
And with that, he gets to his feet, grabs his shoes, takes the two steps to the door, and lets himself out. “Night,” he whispers again as he hits the light switch.
I’m too stunned to reply. I’m now alone in the dark.
Did he just tuck me in?!
The next morning, I get up, shower, dry my hair, and head down to get breakfast, only there’s a commotion in the lobby. It would appear that Ben and Logan are having a fight. In public.
I slow my steps as I approach. Aidan and a guy I assume is Rick-the-Manager, a middle aged man with a friendly smile and a slight paunch, exchange wary looks with me. The two band mates appear to be seconds away from punching each other’s lights out.
“I am cancelling the zoo,” says the guy I assume is Rick. “It’s not a vital part of the tour.”
They’re fighting about a trip to the zoo? What zoo?
“It’s up to Zach,” says Aidan.
“No, it’s up to me,” counters Rick.
“He wants to do this, and we’re going to film it.”
Logan takes a swing at Ben, who jumps back. “Bring it!”
Rick looks Aidan up and down, shrugs, and says, “Fine.” He turns to leave, sees me, and pauses to nod a greeting. “Kyra.”
I watch him exit to the café while Ben ducks another swing and clambers over one of the lobby’s many sofas. A small crowd of hotel staff has formed behind the front desk. Brent and crew film from a discreet distance. I look to Aidan. “The zoo?”
“Yeah, it’s a PR thing.”
I jerk my head in the direction of the two feuding cousins. “We
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