Launi

                  His hands were on her breast; I remind myself as I watch him perform during the sound check. He's here doing his job, and I have to stay out of his way. I shouldn't be affected seeing what I did. Rye isn't mine; he's more the property of the band at the moment. We're all depending on him. We haven't spoken since. I spent the day in town, wandering as Sean followed behind, but I had to return for this practice.

                  "I'm headed out, Launi," Sean says, glancing at the watch on his wrist. "Next shift is up. I'm back to nights tomorrow," he tells me. I'll never understand how anyone can switch their days and nights as easily as these guys. They are all working together to make sure they have time off when their families can drop into town. Sean is covering for some of the married guys hoping to catch a daytime moment at the park with their kids or wife.

                  "Ok, thanks," I say. "Get some good sleep. Your feet have to be tired after today," I tell him. "Mine are killing me." I take my foot from my heel and check it for blisters. All clear, but I can't wait to put them up later in the hotel room and binge some good TV.

                  "It helps if you put pressure on this area right here," he answers, motioning for me to give him my foot. I rest it on his thigh and he shows me where to rub. "That feels amazing," I tell him. The room grows quiet and I look up to find the practicing has stopped. Rye sits behind his drum set, covered in sweat and wiping at his forehead. When he's finished, he drops each hand to his hips and takes a minute.

                  "Pick it up from the last verse," my dad tells him over the mic.

                  Rye nods his head and I watch the sound engineer slide a button up which makes me wonder if he's helping Rye by turning up the clicks. I pull my away from Sean even though his guidance is helping me soothe the ache in the sole of my foot, and touch his arm in thanks.

                  Sean says goodbye and heads out as I lean forward in the booth and watch Rye count the clicks before he begins again. There's something fierce in his expression. It's a new determination as he pounds away, adding a few stick spins as he perfectly executes the song. His mouth is clenched and his eyes are closed and there's something about the way he's giving this song hell that makes my body feel it deep inside. I wonder what it would feel like to have my palm flat against his abs as he flexed or wrapped around his back as he works. I'd been stupid to not touch him while he was beneath me. Now I'd never know how every dip between each muscle group felt to my fingertips or how the back of his strong neck would feel to the soft underside of my hand.

                  I close my eyes and try to push the images and thoughts out of my head, but my body reminds me and as soon as one is gone, another is there in its place. I stand and turn away from the vision of him that's driving me insane, hoping to cool off and get my focus back on my job.

                  The tenseness in my shoulders aches as I roll my head to the side and try to rub at the muscle. I reach above my head, stretching out my arms and shoulders to relieve the tension. I can feel the chill of the AC on the small exposed skin of my stomach just above my skirt. Spinning around again, my breath leaves my lungs when I find Rye staring at me from the stage. The same look of determination on his face, but this time I'm in the crosshairs of his focus. I lick my lip to try and help the way my mouth has gone dry from his attention.

                  The song ends and practice is called for the night. We all pack up and head out to the cars waiting to drive us to the hotel. I'm the first to get in, so I climb into the far back seat of the dark SUV. Eric is next in line, but he motions for Rye. "You're younger than me. I can't fold myself into that back seat with my knees."

                  Rye chuckles and agrees. He pokes his head into the car and I see the moment he finds me inside. The playful expression drops from his face and he hesitates for a moment.

                  "Hurry up, I'm tired," Eric insists, giving him a little push.

                  Rye climbs inside, and sits beside me. His long form has no where to go but up against my body. His leg rests against mine and he has to slump in the seat as to not hit his head. The SUV windows begin to fog up from his body heat. I can tell he's trying hard not to look at me or encroach on my space, but it's a losing battle. As the seat is shoved back into place for Eric to climb in, Rye is forced to find space for his long legs.

                  "I'm sure you two can tough out this ride for a few minutes. Me on the other hand, if I don't stretch this damn leg out, it's going to freeze up," Eric says. When my dad tries to climb into the middle seat with him, he waves him off saying, "I've got to put my foot up."

                  Security shuts the back door and motions for the driver to start driving us back. Rye has to slip his leg beneath mine, pulling me almost on to his lap. His arm stretches behind me and rests on the back of the seat. I can feel the heat of his body on the back of my legs and every bump of the car causes us to rub together. Rye tries to adjust himself away from me, but it's useless; there's nowhere from him to go.

                  Eric closes his eyes and rests his head against the window. The driver has the music on low, and Rye and I look out opposite windows as we make the trek back to the hotel. It's the longest ride ever, every redlight leaving nothing but time to notice his heavy breathing and my own. I watch his fingers grip the seat in front of us until his knuckle turn white.

                  I swallow hard, praying for this to be over so I can get some fresh air. Rye makes me feel like I'm suffocating and melting all at once. We hit a dip in the road, and my legs slide closer to his crotch and a noise escapes my lips from the jolt. His hand wraps around my thigh and stops it from sliding. His eyes are on me now, silently begging me to not move, or maybe they're begging me to move again, I'm not sure. Having him touch me with purpose scrambles my brain. I forget what I should be doing or what we shouldn't. Our bodies move closer, our faces just inches apart when the black car stops and the back door opens.