Rye

That was close. I make myself scarce on the bus ride to the next venue. At times I can hear her laughing with the other members up front, but as much as I want to go join them, I don't trust myself to not have guilt all over me from last night's dream. I wipe a hand down my face, hoping to clear my head and get my focus back on the music and my mission for this tour. I should be mad at Launi for posting the club video, but it went viral and the thirsty comments from women in the thread tells me she made the right move. Our band name is being pushed out to a prime demographic—our age. Of course, there are some older women in there shooting their shot and that's flattering. I'll take any likes and clicks I can get if they translate to success for Free Pony.

I wake up from a nap I didn't mean to take when the bus slows, and we roll over speed bumps on our way into the arena lot. I slide the curtain open on my bunk and carefully emerge from my bed. A few others are sleeping, and the mood seems to have calmed down from last night. No groupies are onboard as I suspected. Why bring them with us when there will be plenty at the next site?

Launi is watching me, irritation on her face. She holds up her phone and the ring light. "Good morning Sleeping Beauty. Glad you could join the party." Her snark does something to me. I can't quite put a finger on. Do I love it, or hate it? The line between the two extremes must be thin.

"Since when did you start respecting boundaries?" I ask. Just to piss her off and show her she doesn't control me, I put my legs back into my bunk and slide the curtain shut. I'm pretty sure I hear a growl. It makes me smile to have any effect on her.

The loud scrape of my curtains being shoved open has the grin leaving my face as if she also pushed it out of the way.

"You're right," she says with performative happiness. "I'm such a pest. Too bad for you," she tells me as the bright ring light flips on and blinds me. I can't see her face behind it and I try to block its assault with the palm of my hand.

"Jesus, Launi. Is that fucking bright enough? I'm not sure they can see every pore," I say, failing to remove the burning rays from my eyes.

"Oh, sorry. Is the bright light burning the demon inside you?" she asks.

I almost laugh, but I won't give her even an inch. "Nah, Babe. Go ahead and light me up. It's better if I can't see you if you want some sexy content. Imagination is better than reality as they say" I tell her, tapping my skull before folding my hands behind my head and relaxing back onto the pillow.

"Ah, yes," she replies quickly, "I have heard that from the women who've had the misfortune of meeting you."

Damn it. She's witty and quick.

"Sorry you've had to hear from those that have lived your dreams. How is it being a part of my clean-up crew now?" I ask.

While I can't see much happening due to the LEDs sitting directly on my corneas, I can hear the huff of frustrated and offended air as she processes the insult. Then calmly she quips, "Calm down Mr. Heffner. You hardly require a cleaning crew. I think having just your girlfriend spend the night might not give you the numbers you think it does. But I'd expect nothing less from the boy who lost his V card at seventeen."

I never should have told her about that night. We had played a drinking game on the last night I saw her before she stopped hanging with the band.

"Sixteen," I correct her.

"I'll write that down Playboy. Now can we please get some work done?"

It's hate, isn't it? The feeling of hot just under my skin, the way my heart is thumping in my chest, it must be rage. I'm locked in on her as she adjusts herself to be closer as if this banter isn't affecting her at all. I know it can't be true, but I'm blinded and can't be sure.

"It's ok to be jealous," I say, turning to my side and propping myself up with my elbow. "There's no shame in still being a virgin." Of course, I have no idea if that's the case. It doesn't matter.

"Awe," she says with fake sweetness that somehow makes the heat inside me worse. "That's really cute of you to think that of me. Ignorant—but cute none the less."

"Right," I say, "I forgot you have your own escort to bed this trip." I'd be lying if I said seeing her with the young security guard last night didn't piss me off. Something about it didn't sit right with me.

"Oh him?" she asks. The ring light dips so I can see her face. She's loving this. "He and I go way back."

I don't like that. I can't tell if she's being honest or trying to piss me off. I watch her face for any sign, but she shrugs her shoulders and pinches her lips as if to say "sorry, not sorry."

My eyes narrow as I take in the expression. She doesn't wait for me to reply before she boredly asks, "All done talking about my sex life now? Can we move on to yours? Shouldn't take long." The last few words trail off as if she couldn't even be bothered to pretend we were going to have a lot of content. She's infuriating. Also, I'm not done with this security guard talk. What does she mean they go way back?

The bus stops suddenly. She almost falls given that she has climbed up to lean into the bunk and probably only has the tips of her feet on the bed below. I reach out and grab her arm just in time. She steadies herself again. Glaring at where my skin is touching hers, she yanks her arm from my grip. I know what's coming next, but with that attitude, I'm going to let it happen. In fact, I can't wait.

As if on cue, the bus driver puts it in reverse to back into our spot. Her entire body is thrown forward into my bunk. There's no dignity or grace in the way she slides on top of me with the force. Her lower body still dangles, but her chest is on mine and her face is so close I could easily kiss her. I would only need to close about a quarter inch of distance before my lips would touch hers. Instead, I gloat by allowing a small chuckle to escape my chest right in her face.

Her cheeks turn red, out of anger or embarrassment I'm not sure. In the end, it doesn't matter. The universe had delivered me the perfect response without me having to do any real work. I laughed in her face, just like when we were kids.

"Fuck you, Rye," she says angerly as she pulls herself together and finds her balance again without my support.

"Sorry, babe. Thanks to your post, you're going to have to take a number to do that." 

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