JACKS

Someone passes me a towel as I walk off stage. I wipe my forehead and neck before running the towel through my hair. Performing under those bright lights can get unbearably hot. I unbutton my dress shirt and sigh as the air hits my skin. I collapse onto a lounge chair in the green room. Sticks is spread out on the couch with his hands behind his head and a few other band members are chatting in the corner.

"Did you see the guy fucking crowd surfing during the encore? Bro must'a been, what, sixty?" Sticks says with a laugh. "Not quite your usual fan base, that's for sure."

I chuckle and grab a fresh water bottle from the table.

"I saw someone, didn't catch a good enough look to clock his age though."

"For fucks sake, how could you miss him? He had a white beard! He looked like Santa up there!"

I laugh before downing more of my water.

"Uggghhh!" Skye groans as she walks in and drops into the nearest chair. "I'm so over Vancouver."

Her hair is tied up in a messy bun, with several strands peeking out where they probably shouldn't be. When my eyes land on her shirt, I find myself choking on my water and nearly spitting it out.

She's wearing one of my merch shirts, a white tee that reads: I ❤ Jackson Ford.

Sticks turns around and immediately bursts into laughter.

"Nice shirt, Skye," he says, snickering.

"Oh shut up," she says with an eye roll. "Some chick in the front row dumped her beer all over me halfway through the show. I had to change fast so I didn't get the rest of my gear all sticky, so Kay gave me this."

I can't get over the fact that she's wearing my name across her chest.

"Kay is hilarious." Sticks shoots me a knowing look and smirks.

"What are the odds of me getting in a shower before we leave?"

"Basically none. You know how it is by now, everyone wants a shower after the show."

She sighs and slumps further into her chair.

"You can use mine if you go right now," I say.

"Oh really?" She looks at me with wide eyes and smiles.

"Yeah, we've gotta debrief for a bit anyway."

*****

Skye emerges from the bathroom with her damp hair in two buns on each side of her head. She's changed into a black, short-sleeved AC/DC tee and shorts with thigh-high stockings over fishnet tights.

The sight alone nearly cuts off blood flow to my brain.

"Oh!" she squeaks, jumping slightly as she sees me sitting on the couch. "Sorry, you scared me. I didn't realize you were back."

"I'm bad," I say, trying my best not to stare. "I mean, m- my... my bad."

Nailed it.

"Shower's all yours." She gestures to the bathroom as she closes the door behind her.

"Actually." I stand up and walk over to her. "I was hoping we could talk real quick."

"About last night? At the pool?" She bites her lip and looks awkwardly at her feet.

"Yeah. I just wanted to know if you're okay."

"I'm fine, thanks." She pauses for a minute and takes a shaky breath in. "I'm sorry. You know... about being so rude. I didn't mean to be so rude to you I just..."

"No apology necessary. I could tell you were going through something. If you ever feel like telling me what it was, I'd love to listen."

She looks up and smiles slightly.

"Thanks. Maybe... someday. It's just a long story. It's just... stupid baggage."

"I have my fair share of that, too. I'm sure you're familiar with some of it anyway."

If she's looked me up, she's probably seen more than her fair share of scandals—being publicly cheated on by my first girlfriend, contentious legal battles with my own father, or that ill-advised Twitter fight with that journalist from Rolling Stone.

I'm really hoping she didn't look into me at all actually.

"America's sweetheart, Jackson Ford, has baggage?" she asks with a smirk, batting her lashes slightly.

I scan back down to those fishnets just peeking out around her thighs at the gap between her stockings and shorts. The sliver of open skin is just begging to be touched.

My eyes catch hers and her lips part slightly.

A quick knock and the bus's front door diverts my attention. I walk toward the front and open it to Roman in a dark red patterned shirt and black skinny jeans.

"What's up?" I ask.

"Someone said Skye might be with you. Is she here?" he asks.

Before I can answer, Skye walks up behind me and into his view.

"Hey, Lil' Mama!"

I hate that he just called her that.

"Hey Roman!" she says.

"I'm inviting everyone over to my bus for the next leg if you want to join. You can come too, Ford."

Hell no.

I know he's just offering as a courtesy, but hanging out with Roman is not what I'd consider a good time.

"Sure!" Sky says, turning to me and cocking her head. "You in?"

Of course, I already know my answer.

"Absolutely."

*****

Roman's bus is abuzz with people by the time I arrive. Some of the group is seated on the couch while others are sitting at the booth beside it. Several of the attendees are members of his own band, but Kaylani, Skye, and Sticks are all here too.

"Nope—you're wrong," Skye says matter-of-factly. She seems to already be in a heated conversation with one of Roman's crew members.

"No way! It's Bob Dylan!" he replies, gesturing with the beer bottle in his hand.

"It's not Dylan—it's Stealer's Wheel."

"Stealer's Wheel? Who the fuck is that?"

"They're the band who actually did the song," she says with a chuckle. He makes a big show of pulling out his phone, probably to Google the answer to their debate.

"Heeeyyyy! Look who's fuckin' here!" Sticks shouts, walking up to me and enveloping me in a hug. His eyes are red and hazy with a far-off stare. "I missed you, man."

"You just saw me," I say with a chuckle. "How high are you?"

"I brought brownies," he says with a smile, pointing to a plate of brownies on the table.

Oh boy.

"Perfect timing, Ford," Roman says, giving me a pat on the back. "The bus is just about to take off. Can I get you a drink?"

"Whatever's good," I say.

I'm gonna need some alcohol in my system if I'm going to be hanging out with Roman all night.

"Damn it!" the man talking to Skye shouts, slamming his phone down onto his thigh. "She's right!"

"I told you!" Kay says with a shake of her head. "This girl knows her music."

I look around for a moment, trying to spot a place to sit. There's a space next to Skye, but I don't want to seem desperate.

"Here!" Skye calls, patting the couch beside her and gesturing to me. "Come sit!"

Well, if she insists.

Roman hands me a glass of rum and coke just as the bus starts to move.

"We've got several days before the Denver show, so you guys can actually drink tonight," Kay says with a giggle.

"Did we decide on what we're playing?" Sticks asks.

"Never Have I Ever," Roman says, passing out shot glasses and putting several beers on the table. "You can drink a shot's worth of beer or whatever you're drinking."

Oh great.

If Skye doesn't already know my deepest, darkest secrets, this would not be the way to learn them.

"Sexy questions only!" Kay shouts.

Oh god.

"Alright, alright, I'll start," Roman's drummer says. "Never have I ever been stuck handcuffed to a bed."

"Fuck you, Johnson!" Sticks curses, holding out his middle finger on one hand as he reluctantly takes a shot with the other.

The whole room erupts with laughter.

"It was one time!"

I'm glad Sticks is here, since he's definitely the easy target.

Roman grabs a beer and refills Sticks's shot. It's Kay's turn next, and she looks particularly devious. When her eyes meet mine and she smirks, I realize I may be in trouble.

"Never have I ever had the hots for someone on this bus."

Thanks, Kay.

I roll my eyes and reach for a shot, but I see that Roman is too. And Sticks. And some guy I don't even remember the name of.

These guys are straight and there are only two women on this bus. I don't even want to evaluate that right now.

I reluctantly toss it back and look beside me to see Skye looking flushed and wide-eyed.

"Wait... what counts as the hots?" she asks Kay, who's seated at her other side.

"You know what counts, girl," Kay says, shaking her head. "Just take the shot."

Skye hides her face in her hands for a moment then grabs it and downs it.

I feel like the whole room is moving in slow motion.

Was that for me? Was that for Roman? What does this even mean?

"Wooooo!" Kay screams. "You're next, girl!"

"Hmmm..." Skye hums for a moment. "Never have I ever... masturbated on a tour bus."

The room breaks out in groans as everyone but Skye grabs their shot.

"Give it time," someone shouts. "It's still early in your first tour!"

There's a round of laughter as everyone takes a drink.

"My turn!" Roman says with a grin. "Never have I ever had sex with a man."

I shoot him a quick glare and pinch my lips together. Kay, Skye, and I all grab a shot and drink it.

"No fair!" Kay says. "That's sexist!"

"No it's not," he argues. "Jackson drank too!"

She grumbles in response.

Sticks is up next, and the mischievous look on his face could mean serious trouble.

"Never have I ever had pictures of my dick on the internet," he says, snickering.

The group all chimes in with "ohhh"s at his call. Roman's expression falls and he begrudgingly grabs a shot.

Skye gasps and then starts to giggle uncontrollably.

Yep. She definitely had one of those brownies.

She falls over into me and puts a hand on my chest. The spot where her hand makes contact feels like it's on fire—pulling my focus completely. The alcohol has built up in my system and my mind is fuzzy, but the thoughts are still all-consuming.

Skye. Touching me. Hand on my chest. Skye. Fishnets.

"You have some of Sticks's brownies, Buttercup?" I ask with a slightly shaky voice.

"Yep," she says with a nod.

"Never have I ever," the next person says, "gone commando."

The entire group takes a drink, something that Sticks, Skye, and Kay seem to find particularly funny.

Skye leans back and rests her head on my shoulder.

Now I'm just thinking about her not wearing any underwear.

Fuck. I've had too much to drink.

"Never have I ever slept with more than five people," someone says, though I'm not exactly sure who.

"At the same time?" Roman asks, and the crowd devolves into a drunken, laughing mess.

"Not at the same time, you idiot! Ever!"

Everyone except Kay and myself grabs a drink.

"Oh come on, Ford," Roman scolds. "Drink up."

"Nope," I say, shaking my head. Several people look at me with skeptical expressions. Even Skye has narrowed her eyes at me.

"Bullshit," one of Roman's crew says.

I know my reputation, but I honestly didn't realize how much it shaped everyone's perception of me.

The group reluctantly moves forward.

After another round, everyone is pretty wasted and I feel Skye's head rest on my shoulder again. She reaches an arm across my waist and hooks her knee over mine.

I feel frozen—like I can't move for fear I'll do something that will make her stop.

"Hi," she says.

"Hi there, Buttercup."

"Why do you call me that, anyway?"

"You don't remember? That was from the song playing when I met you."

She nods and snuggles into my chest.

"Jackson?" she mumbles. "I'm glad I met you."

"I'm glad I met you too."

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