“Where are we going?” I ask, confused.
“To get married. Immediately. Sorry, Adam!” I look over my shoulder, but the guys are following behind us, laughing. Adam smiles so warmly at me that I can feel my heartbeat even in the tips of my ears. Mike leads us back the way I came, but once he opens the door to the venue, a wall of fans stops us from moving forward. The night turns into a chaotic mess of autographs and pictures. Mike’s arm slips from my shoulder as he poses with fans, and then I’m just standing there, feeling out of place as hell and wishing I could melt into the floor or teleport to a less awkward layer of hell. I’m thinking about sneaking away—not that I’d actually have to sneak, since it seems no one remembers I’m still here—until another arm wraps around my shoulders. And this one gives me goose bumps, because when I look up, Adam is smiling down at me. The ends of his hair and the collar of his T-shirt are dark with sweat, and his body against mine is fire-hot from jumping around the stage all night.
He bends close to my ear so I can hear him over the crowd. “You ready to get out of here?” Even as he says it, I hear a chorus of girls calling his name.
I nod.
Adam takes my hand in his and leads me through the crowd, ignoring fans the whole way. We slip out of a guarded back door, and once we’re out, he leans against it. “So you had fun tonight?” he asks as he pulls a cigarette out of its pack and lights it.
“So much fun,” I say, and I mean it. “I’ve never experienced anything like that.”
With one foot propped against the door, Adam smirks at me. “And Mike was the best part, huh?”
I shrug and tease, “You were alright too, I guess.”
Adam chuckles and takes another drag. “I was feeling a little off tonight. I don’t usually go on stone-cold sober.”
“Oh yeah?” I remember the way he swirled the whiskey in his glass when I had been on his tour bus last time. I’d asked if he needed to get ready, and he’d told me he was getting ready. I guess pre-show drinks are a part of his normal routine.
“Yeah. It was . . . different.”
“Good different or bad different?”
“Just different.”
“Well, I thought you were great,” I assure him.
He grins at me and scratches the side of his chin with the fingers he’s not using to hold his cigarette. “So, better than just ‘alright’ then.”
Letting my smile answer him, I tuck my legs into the stair railing and sit on the middle rail, resting my chin on my hands. I look up at Adam, watching him contentedly as I enjoy the cool night breeze that’s blowing across my skin.
He takes one last long drag on the cigarette and then flicks it to the ground, smashing it with his toe. He points his chin toward where the bus is parked at the back of the lot. “Alright, come on.”
When I unweave myself from the railing, he takes my hand again, and it startles me. Inside, he kind of needed to hold it just to get me out of there, but now? We’re the only two people in the parking lot . . .
Adam walks me to the bus and unlocks it. I’m not sure where Driver is, but he hasn’t gotten back yet. “Do you want a drink?” Adam asks.
“Nah, I think I’m going to go change.” I’m feeling muggy from the long car ride, and I want to change into something a little less stale and bummy.
“Okay.” He grins at me. “Your stuff is upstairs. In the room all the way at the end of the hall.”
I climb the stairs and begin walking back through the bus. It’s so weird being back here again. I remember the last time like it was yesterday and like it was a lifetime ago. I pass the bench seats, the rows of bunks—most of them looking thoroughly slept in—and then open the door to the bedroom. I walk inside and stare down at the black satin bed in front of my knees, remembering how it had felt to be stretched out on top of it with Adam pressed against me, kissing every bit of my skin that wasn’t covered.
When I hear the door close behind me, it shocks me from the memory. I spin around to find Adam’s chest right in front of my face. I gasp, inhaling his musky scent. He smells like clean sweat, day-old cologne, and cigarette smoke, which I wouldn’t have considered a pleasant combination before I associated it with this moment. Before I know it, his hands are on the sides of my neck, his thumbs under my chin, tilting my head back. His gray-green eyes are focused on my mouth, and his lips are quick to follow.
For a second, I can’t think straight and I instinctively drink him in. His tongue slips between my lips, tracing and teasing and oh my God, I had forgotten what that tongue could do. Just before a moan slips from my mouth, I find the sense in myself to push him away. “What the hell are you doing?” I force myself to ask, trying to ignore how badly my heart is pounding in my chest.