I blink up at him. “Yeah, sorry.”
He smiles. “In your own little Kitt world.” And then he disappears back on the bus.
He just said…oh God, no! No, no, no. Not good. He knows. Does my dad know? And Kitt?
I want to die. I want to throw myself under the bus.
This is bad.
No, Dad doesn’t know. He would’ve brought it up for sure. We would’ve had many conversations about not getting caught up in the whirlwind of Kitt’s impending success and saving myself for someone I’m sure of. Someone who will never let me down or hurt me. Someone who isn’t famous. They’re safer apparently.
Would’ve been for Jennifer.
“Texas, will you get your arse on the bus?” Coop shouts out the window.
I don’t want to now, but I still step on and make my way to the seating area behind the driver’s seat. Two big half-moon–shaped sofas face each other, both with a table in the middle. Hanging from the wall is a large flat screen TV that’s playing some football match.
Everyone besides Milo is in the living room area. He’s in his room, mentally preparing himself and running through the set list in his head. He’s a worrier and always scared he’ll start drumming along to the wrong song and embarrass Filthy Sound and himself. Either that, or he’s doing something else I really don’t want to know about. Gross.
I sit down and try to catch Will’s eye.
Does anyone else know I’m hopelessly in love with Kitt? I need to know. The thought of them talking about me liking Kitt behind my back makes me feel sick. Do they think it’s just a phase, and it’ll pass?
Because that’s what I thought…two years ago.
I shouldn’t still like him, let alone love him. But who gets to control that? If I could’ve stopped, I would’ve done that after the first time I had seen him with another girl.
We had been at a club in central London where they were playing. I’d just started talking to my ex, Xander, keeping things friends, only because I liked Kitt. Then, I had seen him with his tongue down some girl’s throat, and they’d left together.
My heart aches at the memory, equally as hard as it did that night. I told myself I was done, and I gave things with Xander a chance. We didn’t even last a year. I couldn’t stop myself from loving Kitt, so I ended it.
The bus rumbles quietly and pulls away as we head off on the two-and-a-half-hour journey to Dover to get a ferry to France. We have a ferry booked to Calais, and then it’s a three-hour drive to Paris.
Flying would have been easier, but Jimmy hates to fly. It’s the reason he bought the massive bus and had it pimped.
There is no way he is “being shot toward any-fucking-where in a tin can” if he can reach it by car or boat.
Even with all the cases of sinking ferries, he still refuses to fly. “I can swim, Texas, but I can’t bloody fly.”
So, we drive where we can. It takes a lot longer to get places, but some of my best memories are on the tour buses. And we’d all rather drive than listen to Jimmy’s constant bitching with death-by-plane-crash statistics.
“What are you drinking?” Kitt asks, knowing full well that alcohol is off the cards for me since my dad is right there.
Besides, it’s too early to start—or too late.
“Coke, I guess.”
“Good choice, Tex,” Dad says.
“Only choice, more like,” Milo teases. He sits down with us after finishing whatever he was doing.
Narrowing my eyes, I give Milo the finger. “I hate you all. I hope you know that.”
“Hmm,” Dad mutters at my action.
He wants me to have a clear head at all times, I think. He and Jennifer drank a lot when she was following him around. She was desperate for Dad’s attention, and she didn’t care about the consequences. I won’t be the same because I know better. There is no way I would ever put myself in the position Dad and Jennifer were in. No one should be an unwanted child. I’m lucky that Dad wanted me.
“Whatever. I don’t need to get drunk to have a good time,” I say.
“Of course not. Look at the company you keep,” Kitt says, jamming his thumb into his chest.
“Right. You’re a treat,” I reply.
“You have no idea how good I taste, Tex,” he murmurs low enough not to be heard.
My throat dries, and I lick my lips. Don’t let him see that he affects you. “Oh, yeah? Come chocolate, do you?”
He laughs, throwing his head back. The neckline of his T-shirt is stretched, revealing one of the many star tattoos that cover his body. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. Even that is sexy.
You need help.
“Well, I’ve never had any complaints.”
No, of course not. When you’re the lead singer in one of the hottest rising bands at the moment, you’re not going to hear women complaining.
I force a smile. The thought of him with other women makes my skin crawl.
“Maybe none that you’ve heard, but there’s not a Facebook group for unhappy KD conquests for no reason.”