Crazy Baby (9 page)

“Yeah. Andi?” I move slowly, but she’s already watching me closely.

“Yes?”

“You need to run.”

She shrieks, jumps up from the couch, and runs as fast as her laughter will allow her. As she rounds the loveseat, I jump over it and catch her in my arms. “Silly girl. Did you really think you’d get away with that?”

In my usual fashion, I throw her over my shoulder and trot up the stairs with her laughter echoing off the walls. When I reach the bed, the realization that this is our last full night together for a very long time hits me full force. Right in the chest. It feels like a vise is squeezing the breath out of me just thinking about leaving her tomorrow morning. As I put her down, I gently stroke her face with my knuckles, drinking in every detail of her face like it’s the last time I’ll see her.

She feels the change in the air and joins me in a more serious, somber manner. Her hands reach up to cradle my face. Her touch is soft and loving as she gently rubs my cheeks and runs her fingers through my hair. My eyes involuntarily close for a moment as I commit the feeling of her touch and scent to my memory. Her plump, soft lips lightly touch mine in the most erotic way before I feel her tongue lightly flick against the part in my lips.

Opening up to consume every bit she’s giving me, I thread my fingers through her hair, tilt her head for better access, and thoroughly kiss her. Our tongues sway in their own erotic dance, rubbing, stroking, and massaging. Moving from her mouth, I trail kisses along her jaw to her ear, and then down her neck to the indentation at her collarbone. The taste of her skin, the silky feel of her neck, and the chill bumps that reveal her desire are my aphrodisiacs.

“I love you. You drive me crazy, baby,” I murmur, my lips against her skin.

Her fingers find the hem of my shirt and she slowly lifts it, letting her fingers trail across my skin, heating me to the core. I’m already breathing heavily but not from any exertion. It’s from pure desire. Snatching my shirt over my head, I toss it to the side and watch her as she traces my muscles with her fingers until she reaches my pants. She pops the button open and slides the zipper down while keeping her eyes locked with mine.

When she touches me, I lose all semblance of control. Before I know it, we’re on the bed, my body covering hers, and I’m poised and ready to plunge into her. My arms frame her face, our foreheads touching as I push forward and bury myself deep inside her. Her body arches up, taking me in to the hilt, as she cries out in pleasure.

The first tear escapes from her eye and rolls down her temple only to be quickly followed by a small river. Over and over, I surge into her, whisper in her ear, and give her all I have. All of my love. All of me.

“I can’t get enough of you, baby,” I grunt. “Don’t plan on getting any sleep tonight.”

“I don’t need sleep. I only need you. Luke,” She screams my name as I hit her sweet spot.

“Mmm, right there?” I ask as she cries out again.

“I can’t talk when you do that,” she protests breathily.

“Do what?” I ask as I push forward and arch back again.

“Oh, God, Luke!” Her fingernails leave their mark on my skin. Her sex squeezes me
—
clenching, quivering, and gripping until I can’t hold back another second.

Groaning her name, I empty myself deep inside her as she rides out her orgasm. I can’t bring myself to move off of her. The way we’re joined together as one person is sheer perfection. The way her body accommodates me, molds to fit me, it’s all as if she’s made for only me.

She is the only one for me. My insecurities are trying to resurface because I feel those lingering doubts taking root again. Am I good enough for her? Out of any guy she could have in the world, why would she want me?

“I love you, Luke,” she reassures me, like she’s reading my mind. “Only you.” She kisses me, and within seconds, I feel her smile against my lips. “Already?”

“Oh, yeah, baby. Again.”

ANDI

January

The past two weeks without Luke have been so hard. Every night when I finally get home, I climb into a cold, empty bed. After a while of tossing and turning, I finally pass out from exhaustion. The only positive aspect of this is the three-hour difference in our time zones allows me to sleep later and still talk to Luke for a few minutes while he’s in his room.

Mack originally planned to rent a house on the outskirts of town, but that meant they’d have to leave even earlier to get to the gym on time. It took some strong-arming of my stubborn Pop, but I finally convinced him to let me cover their hotel bill so they’d be within walking distance instead.

I couldn’t tell him that I also have very selfish reasons for doing that. Like feeling totally creeped out even thinking about having a private FaceTime chat with Luke while Pop or Shane are in the next room. Plus, when our tour bus gets close enough, or when we have a break in the schedule that’s more than a day or two, I plan to go stay with Luke in person. I definitely don’t want anyone else in the house with us when that time finally comes.

“Good morning, my love,” I coo when I answer his video call.

“Mmmm,” he replies sleepily. “It’s a good morning now. I miss you, baby.”

“I miss you, too. What’s on your agenda for today?” I ask, trying to stay as involved in his training as much as I can.

“More alcohol, wild parties, and easy women,” he deadpans.

“Don’t make me have to come out there and kick someone’s ass, Luke,” I threaten. “You know I’ll do it.”

“Whatever it takes to get you out here, babe,” he teases me with my smile—the one he reserves only for me. He knows it always gets to me. It’s the perfect blend of sweet and sexy, combined with mischief and innocence. It turns me to putty in his hands every time.

“You better hide her before I get there or they’ll never find the body.”

He openly laughs at this. “You know better than that, Andi. You own my heart and my body.” He looks down at his lap and moves the phone so that I’m looking at his crotch along with him. “It doesn’t even work without you here. You kept the remote control with you.”

“I’m not sure how I should reply to that,” I laugh. “Should I be grateful it doesn’t work or should I be worried it doesn’t work?”

“It’d be easier to explain it to you in person. That way I can demonstrate exactly what I mean.” He grins mischievously. “How long will it be before I see you?”

Grabbing the tour schedule and the calendar, I look for the first available break. “Umm, we have several days between stops during Valentine’s day week. Would that work with your schedule?”

“I’ll talk to Joe and Mack. Shane and I can probably arrange our schedules so we have our two rest days while you’re here. I’m sure Shane would love for Katie to come out, too.”

“Let me know when you find out for sure, and I’ll book the flights for Katie and me. I’ll still be on the East Coast leg of the tour at that time.”

“Still leaving tomorrow?” he asks.

“Yes. I have a whole day of packing and making sure my house sitters are all set. It’s a long time to be away,” I say, my voice relaying my uncertainty.

“It’ll be fine, babe. My parents and your friends have it covered.”

“It’s not that. I trust them. It’s just,” I pause as I mentally reach through the phone to my lifeline. “Am I going to get out there and make a fool out of myself? I just feel like I’m in way over my head.”

“Baby, there’s no way you’ll make a fool of yourself. You’ll show them what an amazing singer you are. Before the end of the tour, you’ll be the main act and Sound Bar will be opening for you,” Luke reassures me.

“This is the chance of a lifetime, Andi. A miniscule percentage of singers get this opportunity. If you don’t give it all you’ve got, you’ll always wonder
‘what if,’
and you’ll always regret it. If you decide you don’t want it after your six-month tour, you don’t have to do it again. If you decide it’s everything you want and more, we’ll find a way to make it work.”

I can’t help but smile at the way he helps me. “You’re everything I want and more, Luke.”

We blow kisses to each other, declare our love again, and reluctantly hang up so we can both get started. Packing for a six-month tour is a daunting task, and I’ve been putting it off until the last possible minute. Procrastination will be the death of me one of these days…if I don’t put it off.

Hauling my suitcases out of storage, I unzip them and spread them out across my bed. Our show dates are so close together that it would be hard to make a stop to shop for clothes along the way. It’s difficult to plan for everything I may need—casual clothes, dressy clothes, pajamas, and toiletries. What am I forgetting?

Oh yes. Shoes.

How will I have room on the bus for all the shoes I’ll need?

Grabbing my phone, I call Cami and wait a couple of rings before she picks up.

“Yo, gurrrl.” She drags it out comically. “What’s up?”

“I’m having a crisis,” I blurt out.

She giggles at me. “What seems to be the problem, miss?”

“The bus isn’t big enough for all the shoes I need to bring with me,” I whine.

The burst of laughter on the other end helps to settle my own nerves, and I start laughing like a maniac with her.

“Okay,” she says as she stops laughing. “First of all, calm down. We’re not all crammed into one tour bus. Sound Bar is huge, and this is a six-month gig, so we’ll travel in style.

“There’ll be six buses. The crew members are unfortunately the ones who are the most cramped on one bus. Sound Bar has two buses and Fireflies has two buses. You and Katelyn will be on the other one. They each have two bedrooms, two and half baths, a sliding extension, a small kitchen, and every amenity you can possibly think of.

“All of our instruments will be in a pull-behind trailer, except an acoustic guitar if you want to keep it with you to write songs along the way. Sometimes we’ll all ride together on one bus. But when it comes time to get some sleep, we’ll all split up and be comfortable. You’ll have plenty of room for your shoes.”

I exhale a heavy sigh of relief. “Cami, I don’t know that I can do this trip without your help. Especially since I’m just now learning that I’ll be on the bus alone with Katelyn. She hates me.”

“You have me and the other girls to help you anytime,” Cami says sincerely. “Katelyn doesn’t hate you. She’s just jealous of you.”

“Why would she be jealous of me? That’s crazy.”

“For one, because Travis was willing to leave his label, and his manager, to sign with you. And two, because she’s in love with Travis, and he’s clearly not interested in her. She doesn’t like the attention you get from him.”

“She’s known him longer than I have, so she knows how he is. She should know that we’re just friends. There’s no reason to be jealous of me,” I reply, obviously confused by this revelation.

“You really have no clue, do you?” she asks, but there’s no sarcasm in her tone.

“About what?”

“Andi, it’s not my place to say anything about this. Just be careful with the
‘gods of rock.’
Travis is the most wanted man in the world right now, and he knows it. That super inflates the egos, and men like him forget that they’re still human. They’re also used to getting whatever they want. Anything out of their reach is a challenge, and these guys will win at all costs.”

“Thanks for the word of warning, Cami. I’m just not sure how it pertains to me.”

“You’ll find out soon enough, Andi. Just remember what I said,” she says, leaving me as puzzled as ever.

We talk about other things I should be prepared for on the tour for a while before I finally let her hang up. Part of that is because I’m now dreading the trip I have to make to the store. I can only imagine the looks I’ll get when I buy six months’ worth of tampons and feminine products. Not embarrassing at all.

My nerves are all frayed and crazy as I approach the massive buses with Sound Bar’s logo custom-painted on the side. There’s no hiding who we are with these vehicles that would rival any eighteen-wheeler’s size. We are riding in huge, moving billboards
—
marketing on wheels at its finest.

One of the crew members rushes to help me with my luggage. Katie brought me today and she’s been my rock. Even when I wanted her to turn around and take me back home, she told me to grow a pair and get over it. She’s so right.

The roadie takes my luggage and my acoustic guitar to my bus, and I follow him to check out the inside. I’ve always wondered what they looked like for the big stars who still use tour buses instead of flying to every location. As soon as I step inside, I understand exactly what Cami tried to describe to me. This isn’t a bus—this is an elegant home on wheels.

The slider is fully extended while the buses are parked, giving much more space than the Greyhound Bus I pictured in my mind. The floors in the main living area are slate tile, the walls are tongue and groove wood, and the couches are soft, supple leather. The compact kitchen has every appliance and amenity I have at home. The small refrigerator and all the cabinets are fully stocked with every type of food I could ask for.

Walking toward the back of the bus, I pass the small half bath before I come to the first bedroom door, where the roadie left my things. I’m amazed to find it’s expertly decorated with deep, rich reds, browns, and a cream accent. The bedroom has a large closet, plenty of room for all my shoes, and a small sitting area. Behind another door is a full bathroom.

Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.

Stowing my purse, I rush back out to finish my exploration of the bus. Not expecting anyone else to be on the bus yet, I’m not paying attention when I fly into the hallway—and right into Travis. The collision is so unexpected that I don’t have time to catch myself as I bounce off of him.

Bending at the waist, he wraps his arms securely around me and pulls me into his chest, saving me from hitting the floor. We’re both shocked beyond words and stand motionless for several seconds, his arms locked around my waist, my arms locked around his neck, and both of us breathing heavily.

A throat clearing behind Travis seems to snap us both out of our trance, and we jump apart like two teenagers who’ve just been caught by their parents. Straightening my shirt and picking invisible lint from my clothes, I refuse to look up and meet her eyes just yet. I know who it is, and I’ve just realized how our “embrace” must have looked.

“Katelyn.” Travis gives her a single nod. His voice holds no hint of embarrassment while I can feel the heat in my face, burning my skin from the inside out. “You need something?”

“Yes,” she replies sharply. “I need you two to take this to your bus and let me in my room.”

Travis turns to face her completely, effectively shielding me from her, and places his hands on his hips in an obviously pissed-off body posture.

“I suggest you change your tone with me right now, Katelyn.” He emphasizes her name. “There’s nothing to ‘take to my bus.’ We just literally smacked into each other, and I almost knocked her out before we’ve even left the parking lot. I caught her before she fell.”

“Oh,” Katelyn says, noticeably and adequately chastised. “Well, I hope neither of you is injured. Do I need to call to have you checked out before we leave?”

“No. We’re fine. Thanks for asking.” Travis is still pissed off. No doubt about it.

“Travis, let’s move so Katelyn can get to her room and unpack,” I suggest.

Travis takes an extra few seconds to stare Katelyn down before he looks over his shoulder at me. “Good idea. Why don’t you come check out my bus? You can hang out with us for a while. You’ll have plenty of time on this bus later.”

Not feeling like I really have a choice now that Katelyn definitely hates me even more, I nod in agreement and follow Travis off the bus. I feel the weight of Katelyn’s stare as I pass by her and then the sting of the daggers in my back as I make my way to the front of the bus.

Shit, this will be a long six months at this rate.

Maybe one of the Fireflies girls wants to trade rooms.

My bus is nice. Travis’s bus is extravagant. The bedrooms are in the back of the bus, but the living area is arranged differently. He has a huge flat screen TV mounted on the wall with every game console known to civilized man. His movie collection is extensive, and there are rows and rows of notebooks on the bookshelves.

As I run my fingers across the spiraled metal coils, he simply says, “For writing songs.”

I nod. “That makes sense. A lot of time on the road to come up with the next hit song, right?”

“Something like that,” he says. “Inspiration helps.”

“I don’t know how you come up with the lyrics to your songs. They’re just perfect. They flow, one word leads into the meaning of the next, and you tell an entire story within a matter of minutes. It’s amazing,” I gush. I still feel like a star-struck idiot around him sometimes.

“That’s the best compliment I’ve ever heard, Andi. You have no idea how much I appreciate that. I put a lot of thought into my words and the meaning of my songs.”