With the Band (With the Band #1)

I really don’t want to do this with Kitt.

It’s okay. Keep calm, and laugh it off. You can do this. Bring it back to a normal conversation. Stay cool.

He rears back in shock, and his eyebrows flick up. “I don’t think everything is a joke. What just happened, Texas? One minute, you’re cool, and the next, you’re acting like my pissed off wife!”

Oh, he did not just joke about that.

I grit my teeth as my body heats with anger.

Bastard!

“I am not acting like your bloody wife! You’re not even planning on getting married, idiot. You just want to shag your way through all the women.”

So, apparently, you can’t do cool. Nice one.

“I have no idea what my fucking future holds, but of course, I don’t want a fucking wife yet! What the fuck does it matter to you anyway?”

Oh God, he’s dropping F-bombs all over the place. I’ve really done a fabulous job at messing this up.

He slams the bottle down on the table, and beer rushes out the top and spills over the side. “Fuck, Tex!”

I’m stunned into silence. His breathing is heavy, and he looks half-mad and half-confused. We stare at each other, neither of us knowing exactly how we got here or what to do next. Kitt’s eyes are intense, and I feel naked under their scrutiny.

I don’t know if he’s angry still or if he wants to kiss me. He’s flitting through so many emotions so quickly that I can’t figure him out.

Taking a deep breath, he shoves his hands through his hair, closes his eyes, and groans, like he’s been worn down. “I don’t want to do this with you. Not you,” he grumbles.

“Neither do I. We shouldn’t argue,” I whisper.

We shouldn’t argue because we have no reason to. But we often find ourselves like this. It’s stupid.

If we’re nothing and he only wants us to be friends, then why does it feel like more to me?

I shouldn’t build dreams around a fantasy. At the moment I don’t know if he wants anything more.

Kitt places his hand over mine, and I take in a sharp breath. I feel alive every time his skin touches mine. It’s an intense charge that heats my whole body and makes me want us to be more. So, so much more.

“I’m sorry, Tex. Can we forget it?”

Like we forgot the kiss, like we forget every look, every fight.

Our whole relationship feels like one big cover-up. Either that, or he’s being straight up and honest, and I’m the delusional one reading more into it.

At this point, I have no idea. I’ve spent such a long time thinking Kitt feels something for me, I’ve questioned and second-guessed his actions and words a million times over, and I’ve obsessed about every situation so much that I don’t know what to think anymore.

Instead of saying everything I want to say and everything I should say, I take the coward’s way out. “I’m sorry, too, and it’s forgotten.”

Kitt gives me the briefest smile, and then he picks up his beer again. The bottle is wet, but it’s stopped foaming now, so he takes a long swig. He’s tense still, and I don’t know if he’s forgotten it or what, but he’s not back to normal.

Has he finally realised that some things can’t be easily forgotten? Or am I reading too much into this again?

I definitely should crack open something stronger.

After a few drinks and a lot of junk food, we head down to one of the meeting rooms Carl booked for the afternoon, so we can run through the next few days. My calendar is full of notes, so I know what they need to be doing at every second of the tour.

Jodie and Carl have given me an opportunity to step up, and I’m determined to make it work. I’ll be the only one consistently with the bands through the whole tour, so it’s important I don’t mess this up.

After the meeting that Kitt, Milo, and Cooper couldn’t wait to leave and radio engagement, we head outside, so Hank and Ted can drive us to one of the local clubs. Dad is taking the temps. He always has Ted go with me because he trusts him the most.

Dad, Jimmy, and Will decided to go elsewhere in the end, which just means they want to behave like rock stars but don’t want to do it in front of me. As long as I don’t see a picture of my dad pawing at some girl tomorrow, I’m cool. Plus, it means I can enjoy myself straight off.

Me and Filthy Sound are the back of the car as it whizzes along the pretty streets of Paris. Coop is trying to make me feel uncomfortable by staring at me. It’s an impossible task now. I know him too well.

I have on a short black dress, which is pretty plain but shows off my legs. Those bad boys have gotten me into a lot of places I shouldn’t have been in before.

Kitt, Milo, and Cooper are dressed casually, and even if there’s a dress code, we won’t be refused—mainly because the manager of the club has invited us. Filthy Sound being photographed outside the club is good advertising for them.

Cooper turns to us. “Ready to get fucked up?”

After today, I have never been more ready.





KITT


WEDNESDAY, MAY 6

PARIS, FRANCE