SKYE

The driver drops me off at the venue with my camera kit in one hand and my luggage in the other. I clumsily attempt to roll them both behind me as I make my way to the back, where the buses are parked behind a chain link fence. I spot Kay and she waves, telling the guard at the gate to let me through.

"How was your break?" she says with a smile. "Did you and your boo catch up on some lost time?"

This is already awkward.

"You could say that," I say.

"Dammnnn!" She starts walking toward the buses as I follow. "Well good for you girl! You disappointed to be back?"

"No. I'm really glad to be back actually. I can barely sleep without the noise of the wheels hitting the road anymore."

She laughs and helps me load my bags into the bus. After loading up, I sit down on the couch inside and hear a familiar voice call from the back.

"Hey Darlin'!" Sticks calls, appearing from behind the curtain that separates the front area from the lounge. "You ready to be back on the fuckin' road again?"

"Totally!" I say, and he laughs.

"Right on! You seen Jacks yet?"

"Oh, uh, not yet, no."

I haven't figured out how he and I are supposed to act around each other now that things between us are... whatever they are.

"He's inside," she says, turning to Sticks. "Which is where you should be in the next five minutes. Soundcheck."

"Ahh shit." He slips past me and quickly makes his way out of the bus.

"I swear, sometimes being in charge of these boys is like herding cats. Lazy, horny, oblivious cats."

I giggle as I imagine them all as cats. The analogy isn't too far off, except cats are much better at aiming into the litter box.

We step out into the parking lot and are greeted by Roman in sunglasses, a grey T-shirt, and tight black skinny jeans.

"Kay, Skye, my two favorite ladies on this tour!" he says with a smile.

"We're the only ladies on tour now, actually," Kay says with a laugh. "Another bassist is subbing for Paige right now and the new opening band is all guys."

"What happened to the old opening band?" I ask.

"Nothing, they were just booked for the first half of the tour. This half is with a group that the label wants more exposure for—Au Revoir to Arms. Their bus is the gray one over there." She gestures in the direction of a smaller bus parked next to the building.

A muffled voice comes in over the walkie-talkie on Kay's belt. I can barely parse any words, but Kay seems to have understood. She sighs and rolls her eyes before lifting it up to her face and holding the button.

"I'm on my way," she says into the device. She looks at us both apologetically and shrugs. "Duty calls."

Kay walks off and I turn to Roman.

"How was your big movie shoot?" I ask.

"Great, but I'm fucking exhausted," he says with a sigh, pulling his sunglasses up and resting them on his head. "Give it to me straight, do I look as shit as I feel?"

He smirks and raises a brow. He looks a bit paler than usual and there are slight bags under his eyes, but a guy with that face would have to try a lot harder to actually look bad.

"Depends how shit you feel," I say with a giggle.

"Ouch!" He puts a hand to his heart and pretends to be knocked backward by my comment.

"I'm just kidding, you look a little tired but you're fine, really."

He shakes his head and laughs.

"Fine, huh? Just what I love to hear from a pretty girl."

"Oh shush, you know what I mean."

"I do," he says. "I'm just playing around. So how have you been?"

"Oh uh, good."

"Did you end up talking to your fiancé?"

I chew the inside of my cheek as I debate whether or not to tell him, but since he asked so directly I'd feel weird lying.

"Yeah, I did. We decided to, uh, take a step back. He's not really my fiancé anymore."

"Oh shit," he says, his eyes widening. "I'm sorry Skye, are you alright? Do you want to talk about it?"

I know he's trying to be nice, but this is precisely what I had hoped to avoid.

"Actually I'm totally okay. It was probably a long time coming, in hindsight. I don't really want to make a big deal of it, if that's okay. Most people don't know."

"Of course. Your business is your business. I won't say anything." He winks and I shoot him a smile.

"Thanks."

"Does Jackson know?"

"He uh... yeah he does."

"Oh damn, I would've enjoyed seeing that reaction. Did he pass out?"

"No! Why would he pass out?"

"Maybe because he's crazy about you? Every time you're around you turn the suave Jackson Ford into a goo-goo-eyed, panting, mush puddle. It's entertaining, to say the least."

"He-... I d-... That's not true."

Is it?

"Okay Lil' Mama, you just keep telling yourself that."

There could be infinite universes, but there's no way that there's one where I have any sort of effect like that on the world's most charming and confident human being.

There's no way.

*****

Our first day back on tour has been bizarre and great at the same time. I briefly saw Jacks earlier when we were all prepping for the show, but we haven't had much of a chance to talk. Watching him on stage now is surreal.

The crowd buzzes as the song comes to an end and the lights dim. They've continued cheering at least 30 seconds after the song finished and they show no signs of stopping.

Jacks's fans are some of the most passionate human beings I've ever seen.

I see a blur above me and a pair of panties lands at Jacks's feet.

Maybe a bit too passionate at times.

He's just finished playing the song "Upside Down", so they usually transition into "Jenna" at this point, but they seem to be doing something different tonight. He takes a swig of water before walking toward the audience in his black slacks and nearly-unbuttoned leopard-print shirt.

I made out with that guy.

I smirk to myself at the thought. This crowd would be absolutely furious with me if they knew.

"How are we doing tonight Baton Rouge?" I yell to a chorus of cheers. "I'm so grateful to be here in Louisiana tonight. I was hoping you all wouldn't mind if I played something a little different tonight. Are you all up for that?"

The audience hoots and hollers even louder.

I'm pretty sure he could sit there and read the dictionary aloud and this crowd would scream with joy. They just adore him.

"This is a bit of a classic song—you might call it an oldie—but it's a favorite of mine."

He looks to the guitarist and then to Sticks on drums. They both return a nod. Jacks looks down into the crowd and gives me a quick wink.

What is he doing?

Sticks begins a heavy bass beat that builds in speed and Jacks begins to sing.

♫"Why do ya build me up

Buttercup, Baby

Just to let me down

And mess me around?"♫

My eyes widen with recognition as my jaw drops.

It's the song that was playing in the coffee shop when we met—the reason he calls me Buttercup.

He's playing this for me.

My gaze drifts to Sticks who gives me a wink and spins a drumstick in his hand.

♫"...but I love you still

I need you"♫

He points in my direction and I feel my cheeks heat up. I hear the crowd behind me go wild while his eyes stay locked with mine.

I pick up my camera, realizing I've completely forgotten to do my job, and snap a few quick photos.

Jacks gets a running start and slides onto his knees, ending just a couple of feet in front of me with the microphone in hand, singing the final chorus almost directly to me.

♫"I need you

More than anyone darlin'

You know that I have from the start

So build me up, Buttercup

Don't break my heart"♫

The crowd behind me is going absolutely ballistic. Meanwhile, I'm so completely stunned that I'm practically frozen in place. My heart is pounding and there's an almost-painful fluttering in my stomach. I've never had someone do something like this for me before.

The irony of the lyrics is not lost on me, because there's no way this doesn't end with this man breaking my heart.

After the show, I find myself making a beeline for Jacks's dressing room.

I'm not sure what the official protocol is for when a gorgeous man sings a song for you on stage in front of thousands of people, but I'm pretty sure it involves heading directly to him afterward.

And maybe a bit of making out.

Fingers crossed.

I tap at the door and hear his voice through the door.

"Come in!"

I crack the door just enough for me to slide in, closing it behind me. Jacks is sitting on the sofa, his arms casually draped over its back. His leopard print shirt is now entirely unbuttoned and untucked from his jeans, leaving his toned chest on display.

My god, this man is stupefying to look at.

"Hey Buttercup!" he says with a smile. "How'd you like the show?"

"I um..." I start to speak, but can't seem to pick my jaw up off the floor enough to form a coherent sentence. "Good. The show was good."

Good doesn't really cover it.

Romantic. Sweet. Hypnotizing. Hot as hell.

"I was hoping for a little more than good."

His eyes travel down my body as I walk forward, lingering on my legs in my shorts and black stockings.

I guess he likes the outfit.

I sit beside him on the couch, unsure of what to say or do.

Is it okay to flirt with him at work? Can I kiss him? Am I making this weird?

"It was great," I say with a sigh. "Sorry, I don't know how to act around you now that we're back on tour. I mean... I guess... I'm just trying not to be inappropriate."

"You can act however you like," he says, brushing a lock of hair from my face.

"What if I want to kiss you?"

His brows shoot up and his eyes widen. I feel my cheeks heat up with embarrassment at my forwardness, but I can't take it back now.

"In that case, I would have to insist that you do," he says with a smirk.

Feeling bolder, I giggle and swing a leg over his lap so that I'm straddling him. Grabbing his jaw in my hands, I lean in for a long kiss. Between his bare chest and the earlier serenade, my hormones are in overdrive and I find myself losing control.

He returns the kiss with equal fervor, practically devouring me as his arms wrap around my back and pull me closer. I breathe in his scent—a blend of cinnamon and Christmas trees, warm and comforting. He pulls back from the kiss and touches his forehead to mine.

"I take it you liked the show." He laughs softly through heavy breaths.

"Yes, I liked it." I lean down to kiss his neck and his throat rumbles in response.

"If this is your reaction, I'm gonna have to put that song on the permanent setlist."

I sit back up and his eyes meet mine. They're hooded and hazy with lust as he bites his lips. His hands fall lower and he rests them on my ass.

"Is that your go-to panty dropper move? The serenade?" I say.

"Panty dropper?" he asks with a laugh. "Are you telling me my performance made you lose your panties? I saw some thrown on stage tonight, but I had no idea they were yours."

He chuckles and I slap his chest playfully.

"Very funny."

He leans in for another kiss, pulling my bottom lip between his teeth.

I moan and reflexively roll my hips into him. He responds with a rough growl that tears away the last fragment of my self-control.

In an instant, our hands roam each other's bodies as we pant through greedy kisses. Jacks lets out a stream of erotic sounds as I nibble at his ear.

I grind against him, savoring the friction.

"Ho shit," he hisses.

A sudden knock at the door instantly sobers us, and we both shoot upright. I jump off of Jacks and onto the couch beside him.

Oh my god, I'm at work—what am I doing?

"Just a minute!" Jacks replies, adjusting himself and sweeping back his hair as he walks over to answer the door. He cracks it open just enough to lean through and talk to the person on the other side. "In here? Uh... No. I can text her... Sure"

He closes the door and sighs.

"Kay's looking for you," he says breathily. "Somebody wants a photo of something."

"Oh, okay," I say, standing up and smoothing out my outfit. "I'll go handle that."

He rests a hand on my back as I walk past him and places a soft kiss on my cheek.

"I'll be out in a minute."

I step out of his dressing room, doing my best to look composed and not like a horny teenager who just dry-humped a guy in there. I walk into the green room and try not to breathe too deeply as I'm overwhelmed by the scent of marijuana, beer, and sweat.

The glamour of being 'backstage with the band' is not all it's cracked up to be.

"Hey Skye!" Sticks calls from the corner. "Kay's looking for you. I think she wanted you to get some shots of the new opening band backstage with everyone." He gestures to a guy sitting on the couch smoking a joint. He has pink and blue split-dyed hair and a pierced lip.

"Hey, I'm Wes," he says with a smile.

"Wes is their singer," Sticks clarifies. "Wes, this is Skye, Jacks's photographer."

He nods and takes another puff.

Jacks steps into the doorway with a far-off gaze.

"Hey, where have you been?" Sticks asks.

"I uh... was... just uh... in the dressing room," he says, blinking a few times as he rubs the back of his neck. He walks inside with a stiff gait and looks at me briefly before his eyes dodge away.

"You okay, bubba?"

Jacks laughs and shakes his head, looking up at me and swallowing hard.

"Not even a little bit, man."

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