Goodbye, business Vanessa.
Awkward
A little while later, we were still horizontal on the couch, and I was not hating our make-out session one bit.
However, I was beginning to hate myself, feeling like the worst kind of hypocrite. I was also getting increasingly anxious about the possibility of us getting caught. The longer we made out, the better the chance of it happening and the more rumpled we both looked. So even if we didn’t get caught red-handed (red-lipped?), observant types were going to notice what we’d been up to. And by observant types, I specifically meant Kiki, one of my father’s most loyal spies.
Not to mention that clothing was starting to feel like a real impediment to where we were heading, which was itself a pretty clear signal that it was time to dial it back.
“Will,” I said, coming up for air. “We should...”
He stopped kissing me and as he seemed to be catching his breath, pressed his forehead to mine. The rest of him didn’t move.
It didn’t help with my resolve that my arms were still around him and that’s exactly where they wanted to stay. He felt good up against me. Really good. Like we were built for each other. I guess in the Adam and Eve scheme of things, we technically were meant to fit together perfectly, but probably best not to think of that, considering.
As I moved my hand up his chest to gently push him away, I could feel his heart still racing through his shirt. That made being responsible even harder.
Still.
“No one wants a screaming baby on tour,” I warned, trying to both lighten the mood and send a strong message at the same time.
He gave me a wry smile. “I know, I know,” he said softly. “I’ve been trying to stop for...”
But then, like he couldn’t help it, he inhaled through his nose and kissed me again.
God, he’s a good kisser, I thought, as I nearly got caught up in it. But my conscience was screaming at me, so by no small amount of sheer will, I forced myself to turn my head away.
“Please,” I said, trying to sound authoritative and strong, but probably coming across as whiny. “Believe me, I am enjoying this as much as you, but I don’t want us to get caught. It’s bad enough we said we wouldn’t do this, but if it gets back to my dad...”
That was enough to get him to give me one last lingering, but closed-mouth, kiss and then take himself not just away from me completely but off the couch. He took a seat on the other one, clear on the opposite side of the bus, out of reach. “Good plan,” I said, not sure I could keep my hands off him without the benefit of actual space between us.
He nodded but didn’t meet my eyes. “I’m sorry for coming at you, Nessa. Especially after you made it clear that you wanted to keep your distance. You have enough going on in your life without me adding to it.”
Of course, he was talking about my mother. I almost let it slip that when I was kissing him, the last thing I was thinking about was her, but he’d already said he didn’t want to be my distraction and there was a fine line there. I wasn’t only with him to take my mind off my family problems—we had a lot of chemistry that even Sandy had picked up on—but he did help make my troubles seem like they weren’t the only thing going on in my life.
“For the record,” I said. “I never wanted to come on tour. If I wasn’t, we could—”
“But you are,” he interrupted with a shrug. “So moot point. I like having you around, but man, this is tough, Being around you so much and trying to keep my distance...” He rested his elbows on his knees and hunched over, dropping his head into his hands. His fingers twined through his hair where my own had been only moments ago. “I...I...yeah, this is tough.”
“Will?” I said, making him look up at me.
I cleared my throat. “Have you done it before?”
He frowned. “Have I ever made out with someone on a tour bus?”
Seriously?
“Yes, boy band,” I said as I nodded, my face deadpan. “That’s exactly what I was asking—if you’ve ever made out with someone on a tour bus.”
A second later, the corner of his mouth twitched. “Sorry, that was dumb,” he said with a laugh. “Clearly, my hormone-soaked brain is having trouble keeping up. Do you mean like have I had a relationship? Wait, no...” he shook his head, not giving me the chance to respond. “Ugh, I’m stupid. See what you do to me?”
I lifted my eyebrows at him, secretly liking what I did to him.
“You know about my relationships with Emmie and Brooklyn—even though that thing with Brooklyn never really turned into anything. So you’re asking me if I’ve everrrrr...” he drew out the last word meaningfully as he lifted his eyebrows.
My face heated. “Yeah.”
He nodded and looked down at his hands. “I have. Not a lot, though. And not in a while.”
Though I doubted he would have had an opportunity to hook up on tour (which was against the rules of his contract, besides it being a bad idea), it was still a relief to hear that he hadn’t. I was going to ask him if he’d done it with Emmie and/or Brooklyn but didn’t. If I didn’t ask, I could just pretend he hadn’t. Which was crazy since, while he hadn’t dated Brooklyn for very long, he’d gone out with Emmeline for like a year, so of course they’d done it.
Not that I was ready to give it up to him. Nor was his past really even any of my business. But I figured it was good to know what I was getting into and just how experienced he was if we were going to have any sort of future.
“You?” he asked. Because of course, he would ask.
Why had it not occurred to me that he’d want to know my status? I twisted up my mouth and shook my head.
He didn’t seem surprised, though I’m not sure if that was better or worse. At least it didn’t seem like it was a big deal. I mentally begged him not to say something stupid or patronizing about my virginity, but then decided not to give him the chance.
“Anyway,” I said quickly, very eager to change the subject. “I should go tidy myself up in case Gary comes back. I’m sure I look...” I waved toward my face.
“Well-kissed,” Will said, that damn smirk making another appearance.
I couldn’t help but smile at him because it was true. I sure felt well-kissed.
“Have a look in the mirror, boy band,” I said. “Because you look the same.”
He smiled back at me, and it was all I could do to keep myself from kissing him again on my way to the bathroom.
Later that evening, after we had finished watching my movie (at Will’s insistence because, as he reminded me, he loved rom-coms and the one I’d chosen was one of his favorites, despite it being supremely cheesy), he changed into his sweats to go along with his not-feeling-well excuse. He then returned to his couch after heating up a can of chicken noodle soup in the microwave (what I call commitment to a story) and ate it as we watched regular TV for a while, maintaining our distance on separate sofas.
As he slurped his soup adorably, he got caught up in flipping channels while I mostly zoned out and tried not to think about how much I’d rather be over there, kissing him.
I wondered if he was thinking the same, but asking him was akin to throwing kindling on a pile of smoldering embers. So I just sat there, tucked under the blanket against the chill of the A/C, killing time while we waited for everyone to return to the bus.
At some point, he seemed to get bored or restless with the TV and asked if I minded if he played video games. I told him as long as he didn’t expect me to play with him, I was happy to just hang out and watch.
Even though we were out of touching distance, something about being alone with him and simply hanging out together felt really comfortable. Like, this is what we’d do if we were regular kids spending a normal evening in at one of our homes. I could almost forget we were on tour and living on a bus with a ton of other people.
Every once in a while, he’d glance over at me and smile,
reinforcing why it was a good thing that he was way over there where I couldn’t reach him.
I wondered if he felt the same. Probably—we did seem to be in sync in many ways.
I didn’t even realize I’d started to doze off until my phone vibrated in my lap. I blinked several times as I picked it up to read the text message: Have you looked at PHX tickets?
I sighed as I made a mental note to send Sandy the login information so she could check the ticketing portal herself. Not in a while, I returned. Too depressing.
Go check! she sent.
Tomorrow, I typed back, too tired and comfortable to get off the couch.
No, do it now! Trust me.
“That’s weird,” I said out loud.
Will glanced over at me for a half a second before returning his gaze to the TV so he wouldn’t lose his brains to a zombie. “What’s weird?”
“Sandy sent me a message to check the tickets for Phoenix. She must have tagged some local celebrity or something and wants to see if it resulted in an uptick in sales.”
“Couldn’t hurt,” Will said, though he sounded about as hopeful as I felt. Which wasn’t very.
“No, it couldn’t,” I said and then added a muttered, “but she doesn’t have to be so bossy about it,” as I threw the blanket off, got up off the couch, and went back to the office to get the laptop. I returned to the booth at the front of the bus and slid into the seat, placing the computer on the table. I opened it up, watching Will spear and decapitate the undead while I waited for the laptop to boot.
When it did, and I got into the ticketing portal, I had to double-check I had the right date. Because the Phoenix concert was sold out.
Sold. Freaking. Out. We’d been at something like sixty-four percent earlier in the day, with almost no hope of getting to even eighty. And that’s with doubling the allotment we sent to local radio stations to distribute as contest prizes.
I grabbed my phone. What did you do? I texted. And then added, not complaining! Sellout!
A second later, my phone rang, and of course it was her.
“Sandy!” I practically yelled into the phone, filled with nervous excitement. Will paused the game and turned toward me, his eyes questioning. I mouthed the words Phoenix is sold out at him.
His eyes widened as I nodded.
“It’s awesome, right?” Sandy said.
Whatever had happened to sell all those tickets, she was obviously behind it. “You are awesome! But you have to tell me how you did it,” I said, still disbelieving, despite the proof right in front of me. “But please tell me it didn’t include anything illegal or someone’s naked butt on YouTube.” I was mostly joking, but she had to have done something major to move so many tickets.
She laughed and then said, “Two words, Vanessa.”
“I’m all ears, Sandrine.”
“Emmeline Somerville.”
It took me a second to register that the two words were a name. A name I was very familiar with, and not just because she went to my school.
“What?” I said into the phone, trying to connect the dots. Emmeline was Will’s ex, but it didn’t make any sense that she would have anything to do with ticket sales. I glanced at Will—did he have something to do with it?
His blank look as he stared at me expectantly said he didn’t but...
“Well...” Sandy’s voice brought my attention back to the phone. “You know how she’s all into charities and stuff?”
I didn’t, but I said, “Sure, okay.”
“Don’t you remember?” Sandy said. “She did that hilarious auction for the Westwood guys’ underwear back in the fall? It was for charity, and she’s got that website...”
A vague memory came back to me—it was a prank that had something to do with a panty raid on the night of one of the dances. “Okay....”
She continued, the words pouring out of her quickly, like they always did when she got excited about something. “Anyway, she’s got a lot of connections so I thought I’d give her a try to see if she could help get the word out about the band. I mean, since she used to date Will and...” she abruptly stopped when her brain seemed to catch up with her mouth. “Oh...crap...Nessa. I’m really sorry. I...”
I blew out a breath and stood up, taking my phone to the office at back of the bus where Will wouldn’t be able to hear, at least not as well. “It’s fine,” I said as I dropped onto the bench and hunched over to rest my head on my arm.
“I’m so sorry,” she repeated. “You were so adamant that you weren’t dating and obviously I had a brain fart and...”
“Sandy,” I said. “It’s fine. Just tell me what you did.”
She sighed loudly and then went on with her story. “Okay well, she said that, of course, she was on board to help sell tickets. And, by the way, she’s dating this badass guy now and is obviously in love with him, so it’s not like you have any reason to be jealous, but did you know that she bought Will his guitar? That amazing custom-made one?”
If I had known that, I blocked it out. “Cool,” I said because seriously, what was I supposed to say to that?
“Anyway, they’re still friends, and she’s obviously really supportive of his career. She’s so excited that he’s in the band. So we talked for a bit and made a deal, and her part was that she bought up most of the tickets.”
I sat there trying to untangle what Sandy had just said.
“What?”
“Emmie. She bought up most of the tickets for the Phoenix show.”
“That had to cost...” I tried to do the math in my head but couldn’t, though it didn’t take Einstein to know it was a lot. Like thousands of dollars a lot.
“I know, right? Our part of the deal is that the guys will do some promo for her charity. Something about goats, I don’t know. We’ll figure out the details later.”
What? “Sandy, you can’t just make deals with random people.”
She exhaled loudly into the phone. “Uh, Vanessa, obviously I cleared it with Tony first,” she said, clearly offended. “Give me some credit, will you?”
I sighed because why was I being like this? She’d done something amazing, and I’d jumped to the worst conclusions when I had no reason not to trust her a hundred percent. “I do. I’m so sorry, Sandy. Of course, I give you all the credit in the world—you’ve been amazing. I shouldn’t be surprised that you made this happen on top of everything else. I’m just...”
“Ugh,” she said. “You have a lot going on, and I did spring this on you without saying that I’d cleared it with your dad. Obviously you haven’t had a chance to have spoken to him about it. Can we just start this conversation over and I’ll tell you that Emmie bought up all the tickets and you can be happy and trust that it’s all good?”
“Yes,” I said, thankful that even when we got on each other’s nerves, it never lasted. “It’s all good, and I love you so much right now. But we don’t just need to sell tickets. We need butts in seats.”
“And that’s another thing Emmie excels at,” Sandy said, her voice light and excited again. “She’s donating them to the local kids’ clubs and programs, so everyone wins.”
“Wow,” I said, stunned by Emmeline’s generosity and resourcefulness. Seriously, if she and Sandy got together they could easily take over the world. “That’s amazing.”
“Right? I can’t believe it. She was just like, ‘Yep, I can solve your big huge problem.’ And then she did. And she did it in a way that’s more than just throwing money at it, you know?”
“I’ll have to thank her,” I said, trying to get past the awkward thought that she was Will’s ex, because calling to thank her for her very generous gift was the least I could do “Can you send me her number?”
“I can,” Sandy said, drawing out the words. The reservation in her voice made my stomach churn even before she said, “But, um, you can thank her in person. She’s coming to the concert.�
��
And here I thought a phone call would be awkward.
I finished up the call with Sandy and sat there for a few long moments, trying to process everything my best friend had just told me. Because in the span of only a few minutes, I had learned so much: Emmie was well-connected, Emmie was not just wealthy, but clearly really wealthy, Emmie was generous, and most importantly, Emmie, Will’s ex-girlfriend was coming to Phoenix.
The thing keeping me at the back of the bus was my indecision over whether or not I should tell Will.
Although, maybe he already knew. Apparently, they were still friends, but did they still talk? Was he still hung up on her? Sandy had said she was with a new guy that she was in love with but was he coming with her? What if they broke up by the time she arrived? Sure, it was only two days away, but it could happen, especially if he was the jealous type and learned she was coming to see her ex play at a concert. That Will was in a nearly famous boy band had to be intimidating—most girls loved rock stars.
And there was no denying that, despite his humbleness, Will was definitely rock star material. The kind of guy girls swooned over.
I’d never really been the jealous type, and it hadn’t bothered me before that second that the world would be looking at Will as a catch. But he and Emmie had a past, and he’d told me himself that he was guilty of falling too hard and too fast. Was seeing her going to stir up old emotions? She was a really good person with a generous heart—was he going to be reminded of that and suddenly see me as the runner-up in the race to his heart?
“You’re being a sappy and paranoid teenager,” I told myself out loud as I hauled myself to my feet, suddenly determined to take the high road and tell him. If it meant losing him, well maybe it was better to find out now.
But as I took the few steps toward the front of the bus, the door opened, and a pile of noisy people came on board.
So much for that plan.
Like he also mourned the end of our private time together, Will turned toward me and gave me a sad frown and a little shrug.
The Rosewoods Rock & Roll Box Set Page 71
