Aimee and the Heartthrob (11 page)

“Saw what?” Even though Miles knew exactly what he meant.

“I saw you look at my sister.”

He slid his hands in his pockets. “There was a room full of people. Aimee was in there, yeah, but—”

Nick cut him off. “Dude, don’t play dumb. I saw it, and it wasn’t just a
look
. That kid asked you if you’re into anyone and you looked directly at my sister.”

“I swear, you’re freaking out over nothing. I might’ve looked her way or whatever, but it didn’t mean anything.”

“Have you two been hanging out?”

Miles didn’t want to piss off his best friend, but he wasn’t about to tell a full-on lie. “A little.” He shrugged. “I’ve seen her around, and it’s not like we’re strangers. I’ve known her forever.”

Nick folded his arms. “Meaning?”

“Meaning nothing. We’re friends.”

“Since when?”

“I don’t know. Since now. She’s easy to talk to.”

Nick arched an eyebrow. “So you’re
talking
to her? You’re chatting up my sister like she’s one of your Miles High groupies, like you’re out to
seal the deal
?”

“It’s not like that.”

“I told you—straight up—to stay away from her.”

“Okay, I hear you,” Miles said. “But believe me, I’m not chatting her up and I’m definitely not out to seal the deal.” Since the truth was that nothing had happened between them and Miles hadn’t
planned
on anything happening, he was being 100 percent honest.

Technically.

“If I looked at her, that’s all it was—a look.”

“So nothing’s going on?”

Miles lifted both hands. “Nothing, I swear.”

Nick exhaled but still didn’t look completely convinced. Miles valued his friendship with Nick over almost everything. Even if nothing had happened with Aimee, it didn’t mean Miles hadn’t thought about it.

But thinking and acting were two different things.

“Okay,” Nick said. “Sorry I jumped up your ass.”

“Not like I was about to sic security on you.”

They both laughed and he relaxed…for about ten seconds. As they chatted on the way out of the room, Miles couldn’t fathom having the conversation when he’d need to break it to Nick that he was falling for his sister.

But somehow he knew it was inevitable.

It was lame enough that Miles had to take it from Nick to stay away from Aimee, but to be lectured by his manager, too… Freaking Lester nabbed him the second he was out the door, and reminded Miles that his professional image—and that of all the guys in S2J—was that they weren’t dating anyone.

Single, single, single.

He’d gotten the same lecture when he’d started dating Kelly, then again with Paige. Yeah, probably should’ve listened back then.

But Aimee was different. If she’d had a crush on him before, it hadn’t been because of his huge fame, or even that he was a little bit famous. No, the way she’d smiled when he’d played her the piano song, how warm her skin was when he’d held her hand while leading her down the hall, and then the way she looked at him at the press conference…

She wasn’t like the others. And Miles loved that.

“Ready?” Trev said.

“You know it.” Nate grinned.

Even Ryder was in on it. “Let’s shred this moe-foe!”

It was the ritual they went through under the stage before every show. Will was in a hyper mood; Nate had to talk him down this time. That was usually Miles’s job, and Miles was uber-glad he didn’t have to deal with that tonight. His mind was lost elsewhere…in the dark brown eyes of the prettiest girl he’d ever seen. A girl he felt like he’d known forever.

He nearly missed the cue before he was shot into the air. Show time.

Energy was high and the crowd was totally with them. After the third song, the first time the stage lights went down, Miles glanced into the wings.

There she was, illuminated like an angel. His already racing heart took off even faster. He grabbed his mike and lined up alongside the lads. As usual, the first few notes of “Hanging On” got the crowd really going, but when they started to sing—every time—there was an immediate hush.

It was just one of those songs…happy and cheesy and full of too many love clichés to count, which was probably why everyone related to it. Though, honestly, Miles had never really connected to it.

He thought about what Trevin had said, how he should write something real from the heart, with lyrics that meant something. As he began to sing his solo verse, he glanced into the wings again. Aimee waved her fingers, and suddenly, every sappy line to that corny love song zapped straight to his heart and felt real.

For the very first time.

Chapter Ten

Normally, it wouldn’t be a difficult task for Aimee to avoid Miles after the concert, like she knew Nick expected her to. The second S2J finished onstage, they were all supposed to run directly to their private bus waiting at the back door and speed away, either to a hotel or bound for the next city on the tour schedule.

Tonight was the third time they’d done their super-secret finale with the rain.

OMFG, was that ever hot. After the house lights came up, and she waited long enough that the guys had run off to the bus, she followed the water trail down the halls. A wadded up, drenched black T-shirt sat in the middle of the floor. It was probably Ryder’s.

Did Miles keep his wet shirt on all the way to the bus, or did he strip it off like the others sometimes did? Aimee’s mind went a little fuzzy at the thought.

By the time she’d followed the water trail to the back door, of course
The One
was already gone, carrying the five boys away. Bummer. With slower, heavier steps, she walked to her bus and climbed the stairs, ready to crash out in her bunk before anyone else arrived.

“Hey.”

Was she hallucinating? Had the image of Miles in a damp T-shirt stuck to his body like second skin been so vivid that she’d actually conjured it up? He lifted a hand and waved. No. It was him. On her bus, by the back row of seats.

So much for avoidance. “Hi,” she said, unfreezing and walking down the aisle to him. “Aren’t you on the wrong bus?”

“These are all my buses.”

“I mean, aren’t you supposed to be on
The One
?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t really matter which one I’m on, as long as nobody knows. These windows are tinted, so no one can see in.”

“But you’re leaving a puddle.” She pointed at the floor. “I think someone might notice that.”

He dropped his gaze to the floor and stepped back, holding up the bottom of his drenched T-shirt. Aimee caught a sliver of his bare stomach, also drenched. In fact, he was head-to-toe sopping wet.

“Where are your dry clothes?”

“On
The One
. I didn’t plan this ahead of time. As we were running to the bus, I told Trevin I was coming here. So, no one’ll miss me.”

“Miles, you can’t stay like this. You’ll freeze to death.”

He shrugged. “It was spur-of-the-moment.”

“Well, stay there.” She ran to one of the bunks, a tech guy’s who was close to the same size as Miles, and grabbed clothes at random. “The bathroom’s right there and there’re towels,” she said, holding out the clothes. “But, um, you’d better take those off first.”

Miles looked up and met her eyes, water drops clinging to his lashes. She immediately dropped the clothes onto a seat, backed up, and turned around, facing the other way.

“Thanks,” he said.

Keeping her back to him, she heard clothes being removed and a zipper fly unzipping. Her skin burned under her hair as she fought to keep her gaze forward, and not creep to the side to see if she could catch his reflection in the window glass. Miles…stripping naked right behind her. Dafuq was she supposed to do with that?

Finally, the bathroom door closed.

She exhaled and slowly turned around. Yeah, there was a pile of wet clothes on the floor. Everything he’d been wearing. Was off.

And Aimee died right there. Like, dead.

She held her breath, then blew it out. To keep herself conscious, she scooted his clothes into a corner with her foot, trying not to look at them closely enough to distinguish if he wore boxers or briefs.
Definitely boxers
.

A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened and Miles came out. His hair was towel dried and sticking up; the clothes she’d blindly grabbed were dry at least, but not a perfect fit. The blue T-shirt was too small, causing the threads to stretch tight across his chest and biceps. Aimee felt a swoon straight out of Jane Austen coming on.

“Thanks again,” Miles said. He was barefoot.

“Um, you’re probably exhausted,” she said, trying to kick-start her brain.

“I feel great, actually. Always takes a while to come down after a show.”

“Do you want some water?”

“Yeah, thanks.”

He stepped to the side so she could walk past. As their shoulders brushed, Aimee felt instant heat shoot through her body and stay with her even while she pulled open the refrigerator and let the cool air swirl around her head. It was still a shock to find him here, to be alone with him, if even for just a few minutes until the bus started to fill up.

“So, why didn’t you ride back in
The One
?” she asked, going for meaningless small talk so she wouldn’t be tempted to stare at his tight T-shirt.

“I wanted to see you.”

His reply was short and simple, and needed much more follow-up explanation—wanted to see her, why? Because he was lonely? Bored? Needed a change of scenery? But still, his words made Aimee’s mouth go moist. She licked her lips and stared into the fridge. “Oh,” she said.

“Is that okay?”

She nodded about ten times, then shut the fridge. “Here you go.” She passed him a bottle of water.

He unscrewed the lid and took a long drink. Aimee bit her lip and ran a hand over the back of her neck, watching how the muscles around his throat moved as he swallowed. Her gaze traced down his body in a line, imagining where the water was going. Then her gaze dropped lower.

“Oh boy.” When she lifted her eyes, Miles had put down the bottle and was staring at her.

“What?”

“I might need to go back under the rain hoses.”

“Are you still hot from being onstage?”

He nodded. “But not from being onstage, Aimee.”

As he held eye contact with her, it wasn’t butterflies in her stomach, but a whole flock of geese, flapping their wings to fly south for the winter.

She dropped her eyes, feeling self-conscious and nervous, having no idea what was coming next. “Are you hungry?”

“No.”

“Well…” She wasn’t sure what to say or do. It wasn’t like this was her home and she could give him the grand tour. It was a bus—
his
bus, that he’d probably seen a dozen times.

“Where do you like to hang out at night?” he asked.

Aimee was grateful he’d taken the lead. “In my bunk.”

“Yeah?” He cocked an eyebrow and grinned.

But she was not about to invite Miles Carlisle into her bunk. Out the window, she could see part of the public parking lot beyond the barricades, filling with concertgoers heading to their cars. She tugged at the ends of her hair and stared out at the bright, moving lights. A muffled click made her turn around. Miles was holding her cell, the camera lens pointing at her. He snapped another picture.

“What are you doing?”

“Capturing the moment,” he said. “You, under the lights, darkness behind you.” He shook his head. “It’s stunning. I never want to forget it.”

His words sounded like lyrics to a song, and she didn’t know what to say, or how to feel, besides a bit blissed out.

He ran his index finger across the face of her phone, tapped the screen like he was sending a message, then grinned. “Posted.”

“Where?” Aimee asked, as Miles passed over her cell. Her Instagram page was open, showing a new photo of her, blackness and pinpoints of light behind her. Looking closely, she could barely make out the reflection of the figure who’d snapped the picture. He was out of focus, but smiling. At her. The caption read:
Behind the scenes, on the road, taken by my biggest fan.

“I also emailed it to myself,” he said. “Do you mind?”

The combination of his caption and the thought of Miles wanting a picture of her, like
she
was the one on the cover of a magazine, made her want to walk straight over to him and finally find out what it’d be like to kiss him.

But she’d never have the guts to do that. “I don’t mind,” she said. “Except now my Insta’s about to blow up.”

“Sorry.” Miles smiled, he didn’t look sorry at all. In fact, he kinda looked like he was wondering what it’d be like to kiss her, too. But that was straight outta Cray Town.

“Before anyone else gets here,” she said, “we can call dibs on the whole back row. It’s usually the quietest spot when everyone’s awake.”

“Good idea, then.” So they claimed the long, padded bench that was the length of four regular seats. There was another row the same size along the side of the bus, under the window. Aimee sat on one bench, Miles on the other.

She crossed her legs and smoothed her skirt over her knees. “Great show tonight.”

“Thanks. It was wicked fun.” He took a long drink. “Did you see Will screw up?”

“When?”

“Right after ‘Kiss This.’ He was supposed to run up the ramp to the second level. Nate had to drag him up there, elbowed him right in the face.”

“I saw that. I thought it was part of the show.”

“Nope. He totally spaced out.” Miles laughed and pulled at the front of his T-shirt. Aimee saw another slice of stomach, tan and flat and muscled. Feeling flushed under her own clothes, she quickly moved her eyes away before she got caught in a dead stare. A second later, Miles stood and tossed his empty bottle like a basketball into the trash, then sat on the other bench, right next to her.

Aimee tried to breathe normally, tried to pretend like Miles sitting beside her, their shoulders barely touching, didn’t cover her entire body with excited pinpricks. “You like being in a group?”

He smiled, dipping his chin toward her. “Bloody love it,” he said in a quiet voice. “There’s no way I’d make it alone. These guys are like brothers. We’ve been through a war together in the last two years. But that’s not what I want to talk about right now.” He lowered his face another inch, and he was close enough now that Aimee could feel the warmth coming off his body as their arms grazed. Skin on skin.

Suddenly, the bus door opened and a small group came aboard. Miles sighed, backed away from her, and sat up straight. Aimee wasn’t ready for him to leave. It was so nice hanging out like this—as friends. Even though how she kept fantasizing about what it would be like to kiss him wasn’t exactly
friendly
.

“Miles!” a guy said as he drew near. “Great show.”

They bumped fists. “Thanks, Brian. Couldn’t do it without you, mate.”

The others made their way toward where they sat, and Miles greeted each by name. Aimee wasn’t sure why that surprised her. Maybe she thought Miles would be too big and important to remember names of the people who helped with the tour. But when she thought about it, S2J had probably had the same road crew from the beginning, so Miles had known them for two years.

The two years when she
didn’t
know him. All she knew was what she’d read online.

Once more, she forced herself to remember why she’d gone those two years trying to get over him. It was a stupid idea to start daydreaming like she used to. She’d just end up getting hurt.

The bus was really filling up, which meant they’d be on the road soon. Aimee braced herself, preparing for Miles to say he was going to another bus, maybe with his mother.

“Looks like we’re about ready to hit the road,” he said, after the last person had stopped by to say hi. “There’s your driver. ’Sup, Jordan!” Jordan waved then slid behind the big steering wheel. “Hey,” he said, leaning over to Aimee. “Know what’s in there?” He pointed toward the room at the very back of the bus.

“No,” Aimee said. “It’s restricted. That’s all I know.”

“That’s what I thought.” Miles stood and headed in that direction.

“We’re not supposed to go back there. It’s like a private room.”

“It is,” he said. “For us—the band. A few of the buses have a compartment like this. My mum uses one as an office sometimes, but they moved all the fan club stuff to her bus so she can work while we’re driving if she wants.”

Aimee watched him head toward the room. She wasn’t sure she was supposed to follow until he stopped, turned back, and cocked his head. Despite herself, she was on her feet.

It wasn’t a bedroom—luckily. That would’ve been weird. There was a small desk, two chairs, and a couch built into the wall, about the size of a love seat. What was really extraordinary about the room was that it looked out the back of the bus, all windows, even the ceiling.

“Cool,” Aimee said.

“Right? Such a killer view.”

Just then, the bus’s engine started, rocking on its hydraulics. Aimee lost her balance, and Miles put a hand on her arm. “Whoa. You okay?”

It was amazing how good he smelled after basically doing a cardio workout for two hours and then being drenched with water. He smelled like yummy boy deodorant and just…yummy boy. It made her want to swallow after every inhale.

“I’m good.” She tucked some hair behind an ear. “I guess we’re heading out now. You sure you want to stay here?”

He pulled back a slow smile. “I’m sure.” A second later, the bus was moving. “Take a seat. I want to do something before we get on the freeway.” He nodded at the couch. “Do you get carsick sitting backward?”

“No. Why?”

He grinned. “Just sit.”

Aimee obeyed.

“This is the coolest part.” Miles adjusted a lever behind the arm of the couch. It released from the wall and he pulled it out on hinges. Aimee giggled and grabbed onto the cushions as he swung the couch so it faced the back window. He adjusted the lever again, securing it in place. “There. What do you think?”

“Awesome,” she said, staring out the window as the bus drove through the arena parking lot. The glass was tinted black, otherwise fans still making their way to their cars would’ve had a great view of Miles Carlisle in a skintight T-shirt standing right in front of the windows.

The bus went over a speed bump and he teetered.

“You’d better sit, too,” Aimee said.

But he didn’t at first. He just stared down at the spot on the love seat next to her, like he was deep in thought. The couch was pretty tiny, but it was the only place to sit now except the floor. The bus rocked over another speed bump.

“Miles, sit.” She scooted over as far as she could, which still didn’t leave much room.

“Yeah, okay,” he said, and sat beside her.