That wasn't the first night I'd ever spent in the same bed as another man—touring made it impossible to avoid. It was, however, the first time I'd ever woken up with my arms around that other man and a raging hard-on in my pants. I wondered if he could feel it too, because as soon as he appeared to wake, he jumped out of the bunk like it was on fire and whipped around with an expression of panic. His eyes were sunken in and dark from the alcohol, his dirty blonde hair was tousled messily where his beanie would normally sit, and his face was as white as paper. That could have been from the alcohol or the hard-on, really.

"Buenos días (good morning)," I said sleepily, pretending not to notice the tent I was pitching.

"What happened last night?" he asked in a harsh whisper.

I squinted at the ceiling of his bunk as I thought about it, and for a moment my mind was completely blank with spinning and dizziness. Then my brain suddenly woke up, and the memories that came rushing back turned my stomach.

We kissed. A lot.

"You really wanna know?" I teased him with a smirk. The churning in my stomach didn't slow, despite my nonchalance.

He'd started dozing off at the party, and I asked him if maybe we should head back. He perked up at the mention of a bed, his eyes alight with something I didn't understand, but that held me perfectly captive like his voice had.

"Yes, I wanna know!" he fired back, his voice still hushed. He was worried, and I couldn't help that it made me want to torment him about it, although I was worried too. 

I smirked as I averted my gaze, shrugging. "Maybe we fucked."

He'd jumped up from the couch with my hand in his and brought me to a bedroom upstairs in a hurry while mumbling something about real beds and the best nap of his life. He pulled me right into the bed with him, and next thing I knew, his lips were on mine.

His face scrunched up in disgust. "We did not."

"Maybe not." I met his eyes with a sly smile. "But there's always a chance."

Hot and sweet, that's what I could still remember of his kisses. Wet enough that I could imagine how nice it would feel if he got down on his knees and opened wide for me.

"Quit fucking with me," he demanded, his patience wearing rapidly. "What did we do?"

We just kissed, that's all. So why did it feel like so much more than just kissing? Why did I want to kiss him again?

He stepped up on the lower bunk and pulled his face close to mine, attempting intimidation. "Dude, what the fuck did we do last night?"

I stared at him, unmoving for a moment. The truth just wouldn't come out. No fue nada (it was nothing), I kept telling myself, except I didn't believe it. It felt like everything, all at once; some secret I'd been left out of my entire life until that first night of Overcast with Chris. I couldn't find the words to explain it.

"Nothing," I managed finally, but it came out soft. Loaded. A blatant lie.

He noticed it. The graveness in his expression deepened as he stepped down from the bunk slowly, keeping his eyes on mine.

"I'm not gay," he informed me, shaking his head once.

My eyes narrowed. "You started it, not me. I think you're a little gay when you're drunk."

"Started what?" he pleaded desperately. "I have a girlfriend."

I threw my legs out of the bunk and jumped down, landing just inches in front of him with a thud. Apparently, I slept in my boots. "Pues (well), I think that means you're a cheater," I snickered.

His face reddened instantly as he took one step back—the most space he could put between us. "Look, I'm really not g—"

"That's between you and Dios (God)," I cut him off. "I can't help with that."

He stared at the floor silently, seeming to curl in on himself without making a single movement. Without that beanie to cover his messy boyish hairdo, he looked so small. Painfully so.

I broke the silence. "I believe you. We were just drunk."

Our eyes met again, and I swore I could see something more in those little blue oceans as he held my gaze. Finally, he pursed his lips and turned for the front of the bus without another word. I followed him, watching him curiously as he stopped in the kitchenette and started brewing a pot of coffee. His posture was rigid as he pulled out two paper cups and hesitated, turning toward me just slightly without looking at me.

"Do you want coffee?" he asked.

I stepped forward, eyeing him carefully as I passed and headed for the single small table. "Sure."

"Cream and sugar?"

"Black."

When the pot was half-full, he pulled it and poured our coffees before replacing it and allowing the stream to continue dripping. He placed my cup in front of me quickly, then leaned against the kitchenette counter to sip his. He didn't look at me once.

"I'm sorry about last night," he said quietly. "I don't normally drink, so I don't really know what that was about."

"Don't worry about it." I sipped the coffee and pursed my lips. It wasn't very strong, but the flavor was okay.

He swallowed nervously, and I watched his Adam's apple bob mesmerisingly up and then back down. I'd never noticed a thing like that about another man before. I couldn't suppress a shiver and quickly pulled out my phone to distract myself.

I was overrun with messages from Daniela and Gabriela, and both of them were pissed. After hearing Chris's siren song, I just couldn't focus on them. I quickly typed out half-assed apologies and sent them off. As I set my phone down, I noticed the recent object of my interest coming over quietly to sit across from me at the table. He still didn't meet my eyes.

"Why exactly did you want to talk to me yesterday?" he asked finally.

My eyes tightened questioningly. "What you mean?"

"Rhett said you asked about me, and then you came over, so..." He trailed off awkwardly, staring into his coffee.

Ah, how was I supposed to explain that I couldn't restrain my curiosity about the loser who sang like an angel? Although he didn't really seem like such a loser anymore. He was passionate about the way his music sounded. He really believed in the final product, despite being dead wrong. That was all that mattered to him. He didn't even care about the fame. If anything, he kind of hated it. It was... cute.

"I just wanted to meet you," I told him after a moment.

He finally looked up at me. "Why?"

I shrugged. "Why not?"

The bus door popped open with a bang and in walked Chris's loud, pink-haired bandmate. After all the liquor he'd put down, it amazed me to see him standing and in such good spirits. He came right for us, dropping his hands on the table and looking between Chris and me.

"I hate to break up this adorable little coffee date, but I need my singer," he bellowed gleefully.

Chris's face reddened again. "Shut the hell up, Rhett," he growled. Por Dios (my God), why was that so hot?

My phone started buzzing with an incoming call from Diego as they bickered, and I quickly stood. "See you later," I muttered absently with a half-hearted wave over my shoulder.

"See ya, Rigo!" Rhett called after me.

As soon as I was off the bus, I picked up. "¿Bueno (hello)?"

"Bro, where the fuck are you?" Diego demanded.

"Caminando. ¿Dónde están (walking. Where are you guys)?"

"We're waiting on your ass for soundcheck. Get the fuck over here!"

"Espérenme un minuto nomás (wait for me just a minute)."

"¡Apúrate (hurry up)!"

Diego's shit attitude had the effect it always did, plummeting my own into the ground. My head was officially out of the clouds. The cross tucked into my shirt seemed to burn with every graze against my skin as I walked, and it kept on burning right through the soundcheck. I snuck away for a quick shower in the one small bathhouse, settling in against the wall to wait. I yanked my cross off and held it tight, feeling the links dig into my skin so deep they might embed themselves in my palm.

That summer was going to suck. I could feel it. I felt it while standing in that tiny crowded room waiting for a shower, and I felt it once I finally got in there and had the tepid water running down my body. I wanted to forget about the night before and just survive the rest of that miserable tour, but suddenly I was seething. I was disgusted, and enraged, and filled with a burning desire to beat the absolute living fuck out of a certain tour-headlining loser. But more than anything, I felt confused.

One thing I didn't have a single doubt in my mind about was that Dios was real, and that His plan for me was something special. I'd always known it. What I never could have imagined was this insane obstacle He threw at me, because honestly...

I was kind of into it.

The realization sent another shiver down my spine as I hurried to the van to drop off my things. I stared at my cross for a moment, debating for the first time in my life whether I should wear it. It almost felt wrong to; like I had to earn it back. With a pit in my stomach, I slammed the van doors shut and left the cross behind.

Dios mío, ¿qué hice anoche (my God, what did I do last night)?

"Fucking finally," Diego groaned as I approached. "Go stand over there with your shirt off or something. Attract customers."

"Customers?" I repeated skeptically. "We're looking for fans, güey (dude)."

He tossed a CD player and headphones at me as he stood. "Then get us some fans. I need to piss."

I looked down at Jaime and Mateo, sitting in chairs nonchalantly with tiny fans blowing on them as they texted their girlfriends. "¿No van a ayudar (you guys aren't going to help)?"

"¿Con qué (with what)? Just play the CD for some people, dude," Jaime countered lazily without looking up. "Send them our way if they want to buy one."

I didn't feel like arguing, so I stood by the edge of the tent and tried to look like I wanted to be there. It wasn't working for shit, but maybe I could use this CD selling venture to solve my other problem. Instead of looking for customers, I looked for conquests. I knew I looked much more enthusiastic then, because my eyes landed on a pair of ripped black fishnets coming toward me and followed them up to her black miniskirt.

She was petite, as were her tight clothes. Her hair was dyed black and teased out into a glorious scene queen mane, and she had blonde extensions reaching her lower back. I could barely see her eyes through all the eyeliner and dark eyeshadow. She wasn't the type I'd normally mess with, but she was hot. Too hot for me to possibly be gay, and with her, I felt I could prove that I wasn't.

"What band is this supposed to be?" she asked with a devious smirk as she approached. "Los Lonely Boys?"

"The Mezcla," I answered pointedly.

"Is that Spanish?"

"Sí (yes)."

Her smirk widened. "That's hot."

I smirked too. She was forward. I liked that.

"You gonna be here all night?" I asked her then, and the way her eyes lit up said she understood the implication.

She nodded. "So is my dickhead boyfriend, but his band plays at nine."

That explained it. She was about as faithful as me.

I nodded slowly. "I'll be at the party tonight."

Her eyes sparkled with desire. "See you there."

I didn't even know her name, but I didn't need to. She found me easily at the after party just after nine, when her boyfriend was long gone and well into his set. We had twenty-five minutes. That was plenty of time.

Or so I thought. For some reason, I couldn't get into it.

She didn't notice because it hadn't been long, but I did. It never took me long to get hard. Hell, half the time I already was before my pants even hit my ankles, but for once I was trying to keep them on as long as I could.

I killed time going down on her, working my magic while she writhed and moaned under my tongue in hopes it would turn me on. It didn't.

"God, quit teasing and fuck me already," she moaned, biting her bottom lip hard in anticipation.

I was just wasting time, trying to get hard and knowing damn well it would never work like that. I looked around the bus lounge area as my lips hit her abdomen, looking for something that might give me an idea for an out or something. My thoughts were racing.

What the fuck is this?! I'm too young for this shit! I'm nineteen! What do you mean I can't get it up?! What do I do?!

Despite the chaos happening in my brain, she still didn't have a clue that anything was up. Or rather... not...up. My hands slid behind her and easily unclasped her bra as my lips covered her skin in soft kisses. I bit into a cup, pulling away with it hanging from my teeth to expose her chest. Her nipples were pierced. She was like someone straight out of a wet dream I'd had before, and I still felt nothing. I flung the bra to the side with a subtle sigh, but something caught my eye just as I was about to turn back to her.

There was a pair of red Chucks kicked off in a corner. On a tour like that, red Chucks alone were hardly enough to determine whose bus we were on, but it was too late to stop the train of thought that had taken off at high speed the moment I saw them. I'd successfully gotten him out of my head for a whole afternoon, just for the morning to come rushing back in an unexpected wave of caveman-like carnal desire. I wanted to be relieved that I was finally turned on, but it left a deep, uneasy pit in my stomach.

"What band is your boyfriend in again?" I asked her with my eyes locked on the shoes.

"Unsent Souls," she sighed, craning her neck to get a look at a clock that sat attached to a side table. "And we got like, fifteen minutes before they come back, so get to work," she ordered me, cracking a smile by the end and pulling herself further back on the couch so I had room to get up there with her.

My fingertips buzzed with the blood rush and excitement I was unwillingly feeling as I hurriedly got my pants out of the way. I kneeled on the couch cushion in front of her and pushed her knees to her chest, giving me a perfect view of the show as I needily thrust my way into her. Her obnoxious moans filled the bus again, but they couldn't pull me out of my head this time. Every inch of my skin tingled; that feeling like nothing is real. I didn't understand what was so exciting about being on their bus again, but I couldn't stop to ponder it while I was literally in one of their girlfriends and had a rapidly dwindling amount of time to satisfy us both.

The problem was that every time she touched me, I imagined that it was... him.

My brain filled in the blanks of how else that night might have gone; how much further we could have gone. With all the bunks taken, I slid in with him. All alone while his whole crew was passed out from the party. The bunk was small, and we found ourselves face-to-face, completely wasted, and horny as hell because alcohol and nighttime had a way of doing that to men. Who would know? What was stopping us but physical distance and a couple of zippers?

"Oh, that feels so good!" she whined loudly, yanking me out of my fantasy.

I twisted my fingers through her hair and squeezed tight, pulling her mouth to mine and shoving my tongue in. It was mostly to shut her up, but it sprung up goosebumps from the nape of my neck down my back and around to both sides as I imagined his lips on mine. I could remember the softness of his kisses the night before, with his perfectly smooth chin, upper lip, and cheeks. Not just soft, but gentle, too. He was slow, careful, thorough.

She moved her head back slightly, pulling on my bottom lip with her teeth until it slipped out of her hold. Her eyes fluttered opened and closed as she cried out in pleasure with no set, notable interval. She was close. I was too, imagining what it would have felt like for his hand to slide into my pants.

My eyes locked on that warm, inviting spot at the base of her neck where it met her shoulder and I buried my face in it like I had with Chris all night. I imagined the way it would have felt to kiss him, lick him, and breathe him in while his fingertips discovered everything behind my zipper. Imagining the friction of his skin on mine had my stomach doing backflips and pleasure mounting in my hips. I'd never been so turned on in my entire life and I couldn't help but smile. I could feel the big finish coming.

That's when Unsent Souls got back from their set.