**A/N: Hey all, I'm dropping the entire rest of Meet Me Backstage RIGHT NOW! So chapters 34 through 44 are coming at you! ENJOY!

P.S. Please point out errors if you see them! Some of these were written at 2 in the morning lol 😂

JACKS

We arrived at our next stop, Memphis, in the early morning. Kay hooked us up with our room keys this afternoon and I offered to walk Skye to her room. Today isn't a show day so we have a bit of downtime.

She follows me to the elevator, but we're joined by an unexpected guest—Roman.

"What floor are you guys on?" he asks, stepping inside just before the doors close.

"5," we both say in unison, before glancing at each other.

I doubt that Kay did that by accident.

"I'm on 6," he says, hitting the buttons for both floors.

Skye nods.

"Oh, by the way," Roman says. "I saw your photo spread of Jackson here. Killer job, Skye!"

"Thank you!" she says with a smile. "It's pretty crazy; I haven't done a ton of male boudoir but I've already gotten several booking requests for it since the magazine was released."

"Why did you end up doing a boudoir shoot, anyway?" he says, looking at me.

"It just seemed like fun," I say with a shrug. "And it was."

Skye catches my eyes for a moment before looking away. Her expression seems a little uneasy, but I can't quite tell why.

"Would you be up for shooting me sometime, Skye? After seeing Jacks's photos, I kind of want some of my own. I'll pay your rate, of course."

My hands ball into fists at my sides. His request seems innocent enough, but I don't like it. Roman has always been my biggest competition for most things, and the last thing I need is to be against him for Skye's attention.

"Sure," she says. "We can even do it sometime on tour if you want. Hotel rooms can be good photo sets."

"Awesome," he says.

The doors open to our floor and we step out, saying a quick goodbye. The timing couldn't be better, as I'm dying to get her away from him.

Get it together, Jacks; don't be a jealous idiot.

I try to shake off the anxiety as we walk toward our rooms, which are just a bit down the hall from each other. I'm so obsessed with her that I'm becoming paranoid.

Not everyone is out to steal your girl.

We turn the corner and she stops with a confused look.

"Wha-" she says, looking at a door with a vase of a dozen roses placed in front of it. She looks down at her key card and squints.

"What room are you?" I ask.

"It says 5015 but-" I follow her gaze to the door—which is clearly labeled 5015. "Maybe they mixed it up."

I look down at the flowers and pick up the card attached to the bouquet and read the note.

I should have said it before, but congratulations on your dream job. You deserve it.

x Greg

My stomach knots and I cringe, regretting reading it at all.

"No, I think it's for you," I say, passing her the card.

She pinches her lips together as she reads it. I study her face for some kind of reaction—hoping not to see a smile.

She sighs and shakes her head.

"I guess so," she says, reaching down to pick up the vase before sliding the card into the lock. Between her bag and the flowers, she struggles to open the door.

"Here." I grab the flowers from her and pull the handle, holding the door for her as she steps inside.

She walks in and sets her bag down on the floor.

"I'm not really sure what to do with these," she says, taking the flowers from me and setting them down on the nightstand. "We're only here for a night anyway. What am I going to do, bring them with me on the bus? Not that I really know what to do with them anyway, besides sit them somewhere to die."

"Not a fan of flowers?" I ask.

"Flowers are okay, I guess. I don't mean to be ungrateful or anything, but I've just never been the roses type. I like practical stuff I can use."

"Like what?"

"Like, maybe a mix tape and a dozen donuts. That way I can listen to music while I make myself sugar sick."

"That's practical?" I laugh and she smiles back.

"It is for me. I like to eat junk food, so sue me. And let's face it—roses taste gross."

Her smile is contagious and I find myself fighting back a massive grin.

"I never really asked..." I lean against the dresser and dig my hands into my jean pockets. "What happened between you and him."

I don't know why I treat his name like a bad word, yet I can't quite bring myself to say it. We've made it this far managing to avoid talking about him, partially because I just couldn't stand to hear about them together, but now I find myself wanting to know.

Did she leave him for me? Or were there other reasons?

I'd like to think it was just her having overwhelming feelings for me, but I doubt it was actually that simple.

"Oh," she says, her expression falling. She sits down at the edge of the bed and slaps her palms against her thighs with a sigh. "That's um... a complicated question."

"You don't have to tell me if you're uncomfortable."

"No, it's just... it wasn't any one thing really. He was... He and I just grew apart. His parents were really conservative and that was always a bit of an issue between us. Then his work got really busy and between that and partying with his friends—I guess I just wasn't the priority."

What a dipshit.

I mean, I certainly understand work taking up all your time—I'm not sure anyone has a schedule quite as busy as mine—but Skye is perfect. She's everything. Why would you let partying get in the way of being with someone like this?

No wonder he's groveling with roses. The man probably finally wisened up after she kicked him to the curb.

I wonder if he had any idea how desperately I was waiting for him to drop the ball.

"His loss," I say, shaking my head.

"Thanks." Her eyes dart to the floor and she bites her cheek.

My phone rings and I see 'Livi' on the caller id. She might have heard I'm in the state. I take it as a cue to give Skye her privacy and head to my room.

After a quick goodbye, I excuse myself to take the call and step out into the hall.

"What are you doing up at this hour, young lady?" I tease.

"Go ahead and tell mom on me," she teases.

"Maybe I will."

She snorts and I can practically hear her eyes roll through the phone.

"You're the one who's in trouble, here! How did you not think to warn me that you were doing this porny photoshoot for everyone to see?!"

I cringe. I'm not exactly shy, but it's a bit awkward that my 13-year-old sister has seen those photos. In hindsight, I probably should have warned her.

"Oh yeah, that," I say.

"I can't even go on my TikTok without seeing all my friends posting about your body. It's so incredibly eww."

"Errhh... I'm sorry. I guess that would be pretty awkward."

"I'm going to have to gouge my eyes out."

I laugh as I reach my room's door and slide my keycard into the lock.

"I know it sucks having me for a brother, sometimes," I say, stepping inside and dropping my bag on the floor. I lay down on the couch with a quick flop.

"You can always make it up to me."

When she says things like that, I know she has an expensive request for me.

"What do you want?"

"I don't know yet, but it should be good. Enough to cover the gouging out of my eyes."

"Teenagers are so dramatic," I tease.

"I need my eyes, Jacks!"

"Well, I'm in Tennessee. Maybe I'll bring you replacement eyes when I'm in town."

"You are? I thought you didn't get in 'til Friday."

"We're in Memphis today and tomorrow night, but I'll be in Nashville on Friday and Saturday. I have a show Friday night but I can leave you tickets at Will Call if you want to come."

"No offense, but I think I've had enough girls screaming over you this week."

"Fair enough."

"Wait, are you still on tour with Roman?" she asks.

"Yes." It comes out as a bit of a groan.

Even my sister is a bigger fan of Roman. That's how it always was when we were in N3XT. Everyone would drool over Roman because he was the 'sexy' one. When we started putting out our solo projects, the press immediately labeled me the 'cheesy former boy-bander' while Roman was seen as the serious musician making real art. I've always tried not to be bothered by it, but there's always this air of competitiveness between us.

"Okay yeah maybe leave me tickets then. Four please."

I rub my forehead and sigh.

"Sure thing. Now you should really go to bed. It's too late for you to be up. You have school in the morning."

"Oh whatever, I was already up listening to mom and dad argue on the phone anyway."

"Dad? Why would he be calling?"

My dad pretty callously left my mom while she was eight months pregnant with Livi, and since then he hasn't been in either of their lives much.

"He's trying to get some old photos of you for a new book or something."

"What the fuck?"

He's always up to something.

"She told him no. She's still pissed about the last book, so don't worry. She's not giving him anything. I think he's just desperate for money or something."

While that's probably true, I know what he's really desperate for is the fame. He always loved to soak up the spotlight however he could get it, and now that I've cut him off, he's got nothing.

SKYE

I grab a pack of hummus and vegetables from the small refrigerated section in the shop attached to the hotel lobby. It's small—about the size of a gas station store—but it's got all the basics. I pick up a pack of Red Vines, a bottle of ibuprofen, and a bag of chips too, pinning them awkwardly in a poorly-balanced stack against my boobs as I make my way to the cashier.

"Hey there, stranger!" I hear in a melodic Southern accent. I turn to see Sticks standing behind me with the new band's singer, Wes. "Got the munchies?"

"Not your kind of munchies," I say with a laugh, trying not to drop my stuff.

"Could be. I've always got the goods if you want some."

I shake my head.

"I'm good."

"You want some help with your stuff?" Wes asks, his eyes glancing at the stack of food then seeming to stop at my cleavage where my chest peaks out through my v-neck T-shirt.

"It's fine. I'm gonna head to the cashier in a sec anyway."

"Alright then."

"Enjoying the day off?" Sticks asks.

"Yeah. So far so good."

"I don't know how you guys do it," Wes says. "I've only done one night on the bus and I'm already exhausted."

"You get used to it," Sticks says.

"I'm still working on it," I add.

"Aren't you a seasoned pro at this point?" Wes gives me a half-smile. "How long have you been a tour photographer?"

"Oh, not at all. This is actually my first tour. Before this, I was a fashion and portrait photographer."

He squints and tilts his head back slightly.

"How'd you get this gig then?"

"Uh it was kind of a fluke, actually. I just met Jacks in a coffee shop and ended up telling him I do boudoir photoshoots. Next thing I know, I'm taking his picture and he's offering me my dream job."

"What kind of photoshoot is boudoir?"

"It's the sexy-sexy type," Sticks interjects with a waggle of his brow.

"Oh." Wes twists his mouth to one side, raising his brows and tucking his hands in his front pocket. "Gotcha."

"Yep. I mostly work with girls but some men too."

"Cool." He takes a puff from his blunt. "I didn't really even know people did that."

"She's a great show photographer too. We joke that Jacks can be a bit of a bleeding heart when it comes to giving people a chance, but the man has a fuckin' knack for spotting potential."

"Seems like Jackson is a great guy to know, huh? Can't hurt that you're cute, either." He shoots me a wink.

"Trust me, fella, that's a road you don't want to go down," Sticks says with a chuckle, patting him on the back.

I can't tell exactly what this guy is aiming for, but he's giving me the creeps.

"Well, anyway," I say, adjusting the pile in my arms, "I'm gonna buy this stuff. Good seeing you both!"

"Catch you later," Wes says. Sticks chimes in with a quick goodbye and a wave as I make my way to the register.

I unload my things onto the counter and the cashier smiles politely as he begins to ring up my things. I casually scan the magazine rack in front of him and one cover in particular catches my eye: it's a photo of Jacks beside a photo of a beautiful blonde woman looking teary-eyed.

The main headline is yellow in all caps: Crushed by Jackson's Cheating—Angel Pleads No More Affairs.

I blink as I try to process what I'm seeing.

I'm gonna be sick.

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