Sam.

~~~

The morning started still in Belgium, the scent of freshly baked waffles filling the air as we gathered for breakfast. They were crisp on the outside, soft inside, and almost too heavy to be breakfast food. After eating, we packed up and hit the road for Germany. The show in Frankfurt was set to start in ten hours, and with a four-hour drive from Brussels ahead, the countdown had begun.

Touring wasn't what I thought it would be. Sure, the guys had warned me about the chaos, the tight schedules, and the constant presence of people, but I'd thought they were exaggerating. They weren't. Being with seven other people, twenty-four-seven, was harder than I imagined, but I'd found ways to carve out moments of solitude, even in a crowded bus.

My bunk became my sanctuary. I'd retreat there with a book—one I was nearly finished with—or scribble down thoughts that sometimes turned into short stories. Writing was my way of escaping, even for just a little while. During the drives, the guys usually had music playing, and I discovered a handful of new artists through them. It felt like a small silver lining.

The band, on the other hand, was always working. Writing songs, rehearsing, planning—they were already talking about finishing their third album after this tour, which would lead to even more traveling. It amazed me how this had been their life for years.

Since we'd only be in Germany for a day, I decided to explore Frankfurt on my own. Ray had suggested I explore Belgium when we were there, but I'd declined. The merch shop had been swamped, and I wanted to help out. This time, though, the crowds would be smaller, and I was ready for some me-time. So, I left the guys at the club to handle concert prep and set off.

I wasn't much of a planner like Ray, but I had a few places in mind. First on my list was the Main Tower. Seeing it in person was breathtaking—it wasn't just tall; it was massive, soaring nearly eight hundred feet into the sky. From the observation deck, I could see the city stretched out below me, a mix of skyscrapers and historic buildings dotting the skyline. The air was cooler and crisper up there, and for an hour, I just soaked in the view, snapping a few photos along the way.

By the time I came back down, hunger had set in. I found a restaurant in the tower's building and decided to try Potato Dumplings out of sheer curiosity. While waiting for my food, my mind wandered, but my phone's buzz jolted me back. Scott's name flashed on the screen, and my stomach clenched. I hesitated for a second before answering.

"Scott, hi," I said, my voice steady despite the nerves creeping in.

"Hey, what's up?" he asked, his tone chipper.

"Nothing much. You?" I replied, leaning back in my chair.

"I met a girl," he announced. "We're going out tonight on a date."

"Really?" I asked, surprised but trying to sound casual. "That's great, Scott."

Just then, the server brought my food. I nodded a quick thanks and murmured, "Thank you," before returning to the conversation.

"What?" Scott asked, confused.

"I'm in a restaurant. My food just arrived," I explained, taking a tentative bite of the dumpling.

"So, where are you now?" he asked, the curiosity in his voice unmistakable.

"Still in Paris," I lied smoothly, finishing my bite before answering.

"Do you like it there?"

"Yeah, it's great so far," I said, hoping he wouldn't press further.

"And how's the boy front?" he teased with a chuckle.

"Same. I'm a lone wolf," I replied, forcing a laugh. It sounded fake even to me. Do better, Sam.

"I thought maybe you'd found someone," he said. "I saw your photos on Instagram."

My heart skipped, but I was ready for this. "Oh, that. I met a woman who was also traveling alone. We took pictures of each other," I said casually. "Why aren't you sleeping? Isn't it, like, four in the morning in Los Angeles?" I quickly diverted the topic.

"My job's keeping me up," Scott explained, but there was noise in the background that I couldn't quite place. "That's why I called. Since I'm awake—when are you coming back?"

"To Los Angeles?" I asked, and he hummed in affirmation. "I don't know. I'm visiting my family in New York first," I said, keeping my tone light.

The phone call with Scott ended sooner than I expected, though we'd exchanged enough pleasantries to fill the silence. My potato dumplings had grown cold, but I was starving, so I didn't care. I scooped up a bite, the vital flavor comforting me as I finished my meal. Then, I set off to explore more of Frankfurt.

My first stop was the Alte Oper Frankfurt. I didn't go inside, but the building's structure alone was enough to make my jaw drop. It looked like something out of a postcard, all grand columns and intricate stonework. I lingered around the perimeter, admiring the impressive architecture, and snapped a few photos to send to Ray later. I loved how the light hit the old stone, giving it a timeless shine.

After that, I headed to the Caricatura Museum, where I spent way more time than I had planned. The quirky sculptures and satirical art had me laughing more than I'd expected. A good joke always brightens my day, and this place didn't disappoint. I took loads of pictures—Ray would love some of these, and I couldn't wait to post a few on Instagram too. My mind wandered a bit as I stood there, thinking about how he'd appreciate this little escape from the usual tour life.

By the time I finished, I was eager to head back. I popped by the bus to change into something more suitable for the night, doing a quick touch-up on my makeup before heading to the club. The venue wasn't huge, and I immediately noticed the crowd was smaller than I'd anticipated. A bit of a relief, honestly. I grabbed a glass of juice to quench my thirst, leaned back against the bar, and waited for the show to start.

I hadn't seen any of the guys yet, but they soon appeared on stage. As Purple Rain began their set, I found myself moving toward the crowd, gravitating closer to the action. The moment the lights hit him, I couldn't tear my eyes away from Ray. There was something magnetic about him at that moment, like the whole world just faded away.

The crowd packed tightly around me, swaying and dancing to the rhythm. I felt someone behind me, pressing a little too close, but I brushed it off. Everyone was so packed in—what was the harm? But then, I felt it. A hand, rough and deliberate, sliding up my bare thigh, then under my skirt.

The anger hit me in a flash. It wasn't my fault for wearing a short dress—it was his fault for touching me without permission.

I spun around, locking eyes with the man behind me. He had long, greasy hair and a foggy, vacant look in his eyes. His smile was crooked, revealing a missing tooth. He didn't seem to register the danger in the way I was staring at him. His gaze flickered down to my chest and then back up to my face.

That was the moment. I didn't hesitate. With all the strength I could muster, my curved palm cracked into his nose. The music stopped abruptly, and a murmur spread through the crowd. People turned to look, their whispers a strange mix of curiosity and excitement.

I saw Ray, James, and Andrew jumping off the stage, their faces full of concern. The crowd, already restless, surged forward as the guys tried to make their way to me. Ray's eyes found mine instantly. He froze, his gaze wide, his face unreadable in the dim light. Then, his eyes flicked to the man behind me.

His jaw clenched.

The guy held his nose, blood seeping through his fingers, and that's when Ray surged toward me. I stepped into his space, my hands resting on his chest. "It's fine," I whispered, trying to calm him, even though I wasn't sure I believed my own words.

The long-haired man, still dazed, took one last look at Ray before turning and disappearing into the crowd.

Ray didn't say anything at first. His eyes remained locked on the space the man had occupied, his jaw still tight. Then, he turned to me, eyes softening slightly. "Go," I said, nodding toward the stage. "You're needed up there."

He hesitated, eyes flicking between me and the crowd, but then he nodded, his hand brushing my shoulder briefly before he made his way back to the stage.

As he climbed back up, the crowd parted, almost eerily silent. I could feel every pair of eyes on me. It felt like the entire room was holding its breath.

Logan hit his drumsticks together with a sharp crack, and the murmur in the crowd died. He leaned into the mic. "Guys, keep your hands to yourself," he said, his voice clear. The drumsticks clattered together again, and then he started to beat the drums with a sharp rhythm, sending the crowd back into motion.

James and Andrew jumped back into their guitars, and the crowd erupted with cheers. Ray lifted the mic to his lips, and I finally exhaled, realizing there was no going back. I'd blown my plan to stay hidden in the background.

The show went on, and I stood there, feeling the eyes of the crowd burning into me. I could still hear the echoes of their murmurs and whispers, and I knew nothing would be the same once the night was over.

When the final song finished, I headed to the bathroom to clear my head. As I walked out of the stall, I heard a voice—loud, familiar.

"Hey, this is the women's bathroom," a girl called out.

"Sorry, just looking for my friend," Ray's voice followed, low and husky.

I rolled my eyes, stepping toward the sinks. "Seriously?" I asked, raising an eyebrow as I caught his reflection in the mirror.

He took a few steps toward me, concern flickering across his face. "I was worried," he said, his hands settling on my shoulders as he stood behind me. "You disappeared."

I let out a soft laugh, but it didn't quite reach my eyes. "I'm fine," I said, turning to face him. But my heart was still pounding from everything that had just happened.

I spotted two girls near the bathroom exit, one of them probably the one who had shouted at Ray when he came in. I remembered seeing them at the concert—they'd been watching me and Ray, whispering to each other, their eyes darting back and forth between us.

I turned away from them and faced Ray, wiping my hands on a paper towel. "I'm fine," I said, tossing it into the trash. "Go help the guys. I'm going to the bus, and we can talk there."

Ray nodded slowly, stepping closer. His hands found their way to my shoulders, pulling me into a brief, but warm hug. "I'm sorry," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the side of my head.

I stood there for a moment, still feeling the warmth of his touch as he pulled away. He turned to leave, and just as he reached the door, three more girls walked in. They giggled as they spotted him, and he brushed past them, leaving the bathroom. But those two girls, the ones who'd been watching us earlier, stayed by the door, their stares burning into me. The uncomfortable weight of their gaze made my skin crawl.

I didn't want to stick around. I waited until the three girls wandered further into the bathroom before I made my move, quickly slipping out and walking toward the bus.

Once I got there, I took a minute to clean myself up. The guys were busy loading the equipment onto the bus, and the bar was too small for a full venue setup, so there were no showers. Wet wipes would have to do for the night, and honestly, I was too exhausted to care.