by Josephs, Mia
“I’m so used to it now, I just crash again. Please?” she begged.
The weight of his responsibility toward her hit him again. “Yeah, Stace. Of course I’ll call.”
As Griffin watched Lita perform from backstage, her movements were smaller, less energetic. Her voice not as strong.
Her hips swung to the right and her feet slipped.
Griffin’s heart dropped and he leapt forward, but stopped just shy of the open stage as she stood again and continued with the song. Something was definitely off. He scanned his side of the stage for Bridget, but she rarely stayed for the whole show.
He moved back to where he’d been watching and Lita paused at the end of the song. “You guys are awesome!”
The crowd cheered.
“I need a quickie break. Gimme two!”
And she dropped the mic stumbling backstage.
Griffin ran to the edge of the black curtain, his heart hammering, the band staring with wide eyes until the drummer slapped his sticks together and they started jamming without her.
“Lita?”
She fell against him, her hands clawing into his shoulders. “I feel like hell.”
He stepped backwards, grasping her by the waist to help her stand, and they were surrounded in seconds.
“No!” Dave threw out his hands. “Back up!”
“I gotta get back out there,” she mumbled. Only Lita clutched Griffin more tightly.
“Let’s sit for a sec.” He sat on a wooden box and she fell onto his lap.
He tightened his arm securely around her waist, just to make sure she didn’t slip to the floor.
“Bananas.” He pointed to his pack and Dave snapped at someone else in black who ran toward his small pile of stuff.
“Have you eaten?” he asked only half aware of the small group of Lita caretakers who had gathered.
“Yeah, I had a…. “ Lita shook her head and her small body relaxed against him. “I know I had a croissant earlier, but that can’t be all, I…”
Every nerve of his was on edge as she relaxed further—almost like dead weight in his arms.
He ripped open the end of the banana and pulled off a small bite like he would for a child. “Here. Just a bite or two, okay?”
Lita took the banana and placed it in her mouth.
“Water?” Griffin asked.
Lita sat up after a moment and blinked a few times. “I don’t want to pass out.”
Griffin held up the banana, his heart finally beginning to slow. “Then keep eating.”
She nodded and took another tiny bite, and then a swallow of water.
Her eyes closed as she continued chewing. Her hand pressed against her chest rubbing up and down slightly. “Can you imagine what they’re going to say about me tomorrow?”
The worried side of him tightened his arm around her.
“Then get back out there.” Dave held out a hand.
Griffin wanted to clutch her to him and make her rest and eat, but it wasn’t his job, and he also knew this was a flaw of his—to protect, to take care of, to probably smother.
He held the banana in front of her and she pulled the rest out of the peel with a wicked smile. “I just got an idea.”
She walked back onstage with her banana and the crowd erupted.
“I was so busy meeting so many of you awesome people, I forgot dinner.” She laughed into the mic, and if Griffin hadn’t known her, he never would have guessed she’d been close to passing out only minutes before. Pure determination and willpower kept her up there, and he wondered what else those traits would hide.
There was nothing to do but make fun of herself, so Lita slid her tongue up the side of the banana and waggled her brows. The male half of the audience shouted and then she chomped the large piece in half, dropping the other part down to the stage, earning a chorus of groans and laughter.
She turned to the band. “Lies.” She knew the banana would play into that song well, and maybe the crowd would think it was all part of the show. She hoped, anyway.
They were off the playlist, but she wasn’t going to make it through the rest of the set anyway. Her drummer counted it off, and she ignored the banana like lead in her stomach and the slime on her throat because she had to get this done, and she hoped her few bites would be enough to get her through a few more songs.
She belted out the last note, and knew she only had one more song in her. A few bites of banana were not going to save the show.
The crowd screamed as she walked off stage and Griffin’s face contorted in worry. She faintly registered Dave but the blackness of the stage swirled with the sounds and stage lights and she found herself once again, almost toppling over. Dave’s arms came around her for a moment while she got her feet underneath herself again.
“You okay?” Griffin asked, stepping next to her. The smell of him… She had to figure out what it was and coat her pillows with it.
“If you don’t do an encore, they’ll know something’s up.” Dave’s voice echoed in her ears.
She knew it. She had to find the strength to get out again.
She stared at Griffin as she stepped backwards, trying to decipher anything of what she was feeling. Mostly confusion.
Lita threw her hands in the air as she stepped back onto the stage and the crowd’s energy lightened her shoulders, strengthened her legs. No one could understand how this many people could infuse your body with enough energy to get through almost anything.
She slammed her hand down the front of the guitar signaling the first wailing chord of the song.
Damn everybody. She could do one more song. Then she’d collapse.
“Stop fussing,” Lita snapped at Bridget. “Seriously. I just need sleep.”
Bridget threw her hands in the air after trying to practically carry Lita to her room. Surely Bridget knew how it would look if she were being half carried up the hotel hallway.
They moved through the suite, Lita leaning against her friend more fully.
“I’m fine,” Lita insisted. “Just tired.”
Bridget kneeled in front of where Lita sat on the bed, resting a hand on each knee. “You have way too much caffeine in your system to be tired.”
“Fine.” Lita waved her hands. “I’m done. I’ll shower. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She just wanted quiet.
And then Bridget was gone, leaving Lita blissfully alone.
Lita slowly stood and moved into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. She looked like hell. Eye makeup running, pale. Normally she’d take a hot shower and climb into bed, but her shaking knees weren’t going to allow that.
She slid out of her clothes, leaving her outfit in a pile on the floor and grasped the wall as she moved for her bed. Goose bumps covered her body, and she started to rub her hands over her arms, but her limbs shook harder and she slid under the covers.
Tomorrow. She’d feel better tomorrow.
Lita sat curled up in the warmest arms she’d ever felt. A soft hum filled the room in a melody she knew well. He always knew what she needed. Always. Only she had no idea who it was or where they were—inconsequential in the land of dreams.
The porch swing moved underneath them, and the fact that her dad had sold this house years ago didn’t matter. The fact that the warm sun felt perfect on her skin was a sign that it was a dream, but she wanted it.
The humming stopped and she tightened her arms around muscled sides. “Another one.”
Lips touched her forehead. “I want payment first.”
She ducked her head laughing. “Nope.”
He shifted underneath her. “I think so…” he trailed off teasing.
“I have sleepy afternoon nap breath,” she protested.
His lips moved down the side of her face until he couldn’t reach any further. “Please.”
She didn’t move. “A little one. Promise.”
“I will promise no such thing.” His arms tightened.
She lifted her head up. “Griffin.
”
But then his lips were on hers. Soft, smooth, strong, and her mouth opened up for him letting the world fall away. The swing fall away. The porch fall away. The sun fall away.
The mattress was soft underneath her, and everything about Griffin’s weight on her felt good, perfect. His rough fingers slid the tank straps off her shoulders, and he kissed along her collarbone before lightly sucking on her neck.
“Oh, Griffin…” she groaned.
“Just a minute, baby,” he whispered.
His hands moved down her body, sliding across the top of her panties, and she arched up toward him.
Griffin disappeared. The bed disappeared. She was on ice. Naked.
Lita gasped and sat up in bed, shivering.
Holy… She’d never had a moment that erotic in her life. How was she supposed to act around Griffin now?
Nine
“Better?” Familiar hands slid up and down Lita’s arm.
She shivered and pulled the blankets more tightly around her.
“Are you sick?” Bridget asked.
So, yeah. Not the familiar hands she’d dreamed about the night before...
“I don’t know.” Lita pulled her legs to her chest but every part of her felt like ice. “Maybe.”
“Okay.” Bridget sighed. “We gotta get you on the bus. Boise tomorrow night. So, we have a long day where you can sleep as we travel, okay?”
Lita couldn’t imagine getting out of bed. Couldn’t imagine putting on clothes and riding the bus. But if she missed the bus, it would mean flying, which meant airports and security and lines. That was definitely out.
“I need something warm,” she whispered, keeping her eyes closed.
“So the iced coffee is out, then.” Bridget’s words were clipped.
Lita nodded and Bridget squeezed her arm before her weight left the bed.
“I’ll call another lackey to get you something hot, okay?”
Lita didn’t answer because she couldn’t imagine having to talk. This was crap timing. She could not be sick right now. If she showed up sick everyone would claim she had a drug problem, and that was something she’d managed to avoid by avoiding drugs—not an easy feat on the road, but it was a lot easier when your history with them was similar to hers.
She just had to find a way to convince her body to get out of bed. Soon.
The second Lita made it across the parking lot and onto the bus; she collapsed on the couch, grasped the small blanket, and pulled it over her shoulders letting her eyes fall closed.
Apelu had taken over the closest thing to a recliner the bus had, and would most likely sleep the whole ride. He usually did.
“Why don’t you just crash on the bed?” Bridget asked.
“I get sick back there,” Lita said. “I need to see.”
Bridget sighed. “If you’re sure.”
“I’m here.” The voice wasn’t Dave’s… Griffin? Lita opened her eyes.
Wide-eyed and unkempt, Griffin stood with a bag and tray of drinks.
“What is all that?” Bridget snapped. “I said a hot coffee.”
“It’s fine.” Lita waved down her friend.
Dave jumped on. “We’re off.”
And with that the bus lurched forward.
“I’m supposed to be on the other bus—” Griffin started.
“Well you’re not because you can’t follow instructions,” Bridget quipped.
Griffin blinked and leaned against the small table as the bus moved out of the parking lot.
“Don’t be such a bitch,” Lita whined. “Let him be.”
Bridget pushed up from the table. “I’m going to get some shut eye, since you’ll be needing me as soon as we get there.”
Lita stared at Bridget’s back as her friend walked toward the back of the bus, shutting the door to the small bedroom. So weird. Bridget had good and bad days like everyone, but she felt…off.
Griffin’s shoulders fell a little as he sat, and Lita forced herself more upright and then remembered folding herself into him last night backstage. This not even including the dream. The dream she really wanted to fall into again.
His lips against hers. The kisses on her collarbone.
Her body flushed with heat, and she stared at her lap.
“Feeling better than last night?” he asked.
Oh. Right. Last night. The real reason she should be embarrassed. She didn’t just grab guys and sit on their laps. She’d hardly had time for anything personal since her insane schedule started three years ago, and had no idea how weird Griffin might think she was.
Griffin adjusted the few things on the small table as Dave pulled out his tablet. “Bridget said to get coffee, but since you really need sleep, I grabbed a few other things instead…”
Lita cocked a brow at the four drinks in his hand and a grocery bag that looked full. “A few?” Another shiver ran through her and she pulled the thin blanket more tightly around her.
“You’re not seriously cold are you?” Griffin asked and even Dave glanced over his iPad at where she sat huddled on the couch. “I’m dying of heat.”
She just stared.
“How sick are you?” he asked. “I thought it might be Bridget-speak for hung over.”
Lita shook her head.
“You’re not...on anything?” Griffin asked slowly.
Seriously?
“No.” Lita frowned.
“Yeah…” Griffin rubbed his palms on his thighs and let out a breath. “I just never know how good the articles on you are… I’m sorry. I… I really should have kept my mouth shut.”
Lita stared. But of course he’d read about her.
Griffin seemed to sense something felt weird between them. “Sorry. Never mind.”
There was probably something she should say to this wide-eyed nervous looking guy.
He set the bag on the table and pulled out a Styrofoam container. “I brought soup.”
“I’m not that sick.” Lita found words.
“Well, you look sick.” He rummaged in the tiny kitchen drawers on the bus until he found a spoon and then sat next to her with the soup. “I’m annoying and probably over-bearing, but I can’t… I just… I have this need or urge or compulsion to take care of the people around me. Sometimes to a fault. Tell me to get lost when I drive you crazy. But there’s soup, and a roll and croissant and a decaf coffee.”
Lita just watched his jaw move. Watched the stubble around his lips and the faint tugging on the corners of his mouth.
She took the spoon and ladled out a small portion of broth, bringing it to her lips. Her throat tightened.
And she swallowed.
Griffin set the small bowl on the cabinet next to her and took a seat at the table, pulling his long sleeved thermal over his head, leaving him in a grey t-shirt that tugged just a little too perfectly over his chest.
Lita shivered again and then stared at his shirt. It might be weird… Wait. She was Lita James. She could ask for whatever she wanted. “Can I have your shirt?”
He jerked to face her and handed the long sleeved tee over. She immediately slid it on, trying not to breathe in too obviously as the fabric fell over her face. Now was when she should say thanks, but instead she focused on getting more liquid into her body.
With each sip she could feel her body tingling with energy. She could not have two shows that were “off” in a row. Could. Not. She grabbed the roll next and began to shred it into small pieces to dip in her soup.
When she breathed in, she realized she wouldn’t have to coat her pillows in anything; she just had to keep his shirt.
Yes. This had been perfect.
Even though he knew he shouldn’t, Griffin watched Lita eat, and he filed everything away for a clue as to what was going on with her.
Her eyes flitted closed and her body relaxed, her hands clutching the ends of the sleeves on Griffin’s tee. A surge of warmth hit him as he watched her in his shirt and then he quickly looked away—that kind of staring
was reserved for Stacy, and he wasn’t going to let anyone, even Lita James, change that.
It’s just that it was his shirt, on her body, and when she shifted and breathed in, there was a place in his head where he knew she was smelling him, and he wanted her to want that, even though he shouldn’t. He tried not to watch her as she slowly fell asleep, her breathing slowing until her lips parted in relaxation.
He shifted lower in the seat looking away from Lita. Dave was immersed in his iPad, which left Griffin with nothing to do. He pulled out his phone, but Stacy had sent him nothing. A tinge of uncertainty hit him. There was a kind of relief knowing she didn’t need him all the time, but he wasn’t sure what he had if she didn’t need him.
Griffin dropped her a quick text.
Griffin: Just on the bus and thinking about you.
Stacy: You’re so sweet. I’m at school and about to do a few haircuts. Talk later?
Griffin: No show tonight, so yeah, we’ll talk.
Stacy: Later then :-D
So much for that distraction.
Ryker and the rest of the crew were on the other bus, but a girl had been with Ryker that morning, and Griffin really didn’t want to know if he’d snuck her on—apparently he had a reputation for doing that. So even though he was bored, it was better than being a holder of another one of Ryker’s secrets.
Bridget walked out from the back bedroom and pushed the hair off her face. She was pretty, nothing like Lita, but she had soft skin, nice cheekbones, dark brown hair that fell in waves.
“I told her to go back to the bed, and she didn’t go.” She sighed. “Now there’s nowhere to sit.”
Griffin glanced at the empty half of a couch and at the several more spaces around the small table where he sat with Dave. His eyes floated back to Lita, her cheeks even more sunken than before.
“What’s going on with her?” Griffin asked quietly, deciding that direct was probably better.
Bridget crossed her arms and leaned against the counter, working her jaw as she watched him. “There are a million things wrong with that statement.”
Her tone prickled up his spine, and Griffin set his jaw. “How do you figure?”
