Sam.

~~~

LAX was as chaotic as I'd imagined it would be—people rushing in all directions, voices blending into a constant hum, and the distant screech of luggage wheels on the tile. Logan had grabbed a trolley earlier, and we loaded it with our suitcases while he took charge of steering. The three of us—Logan, Ray, and I—headed toward the check-in counters. My fingers were threaded through Ray's, a small reassurance in the sea of bustling travelers.

As we walked, my eyes caught a stack of black trunks and guitar cases perched on a nearby cart. Two men stood near them, chatting casually.

"That's the band's equipment," Ray whispered, leaning in close enough that his breath tickled my ear.

I nodded, though my attention was elsewhere. My pulse quickened as the realization hit me—I was about to meet two more of Ray's bandmates, two more important pieces of his life. It felt like a lot, almost too much. But then I glanced up at Raymond, and just like that, the anxiety settled. He had that effect on me—an unanticipated kind of calm.

One of the guys stepped forward, breaking away from the carts. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a buzz cut that highlighted a single sharp line above his right ear. His skin was deep ebony, and a silver eyebrow ring gleamed when it caught the light. His dark eyes locked onto mine as a warm smile spread across his face.

"Hi, I'm Andrew," he said, pulling me into an unexpected hug. His grip was firm but friendly.

"Hi," I managed, awkwardly patting his back with one hand while the other remained clasped in Ray's.

"It's nice to meet you," he added, stepping back but keeping his smile.

Andrew Kerr. I recognized the name. He was the band's bassist and, from what Ray had told me, his best friend since childhood.

"I'm Samantha," I said, returning his grin. My gaze flicked to the second guy standing a few steps behind him.

"I'm James," he said, extending a hand. His voice was smooth, and his gray eyes had a piercing quality to them. I shook his hand lightly.

James Brown—the newest addition to Purple Rain. He had an almost ethereal appearance, with pale skin that made his blond undercut and darker facial stubble stand out. He reminded me of someone from a gothic painting, all stark contrasts, and haunting features.

"Nice to meet you both," I said, trying to keep my tone steady even as nerves bubbled beneath the surface.

James gave a polite nod but motioned toward the carts. "We should head to the check-in counters," he said, his voice practical.

Ray and Logan pushed the luggage while the rest of us followed, weaving through the crowds of people. Before long, we were checked in and made our way toward the gate.

On the plane, I was fully prepared to sit apart from Ray. After all, the guys had booked their tickets months ago. But when we reached our seats, Ray guided me toward the window seat and sat down beside me.

"Logan traded with you," he said casually as if it were no big deal.

I glanced back toward my original seat, catching a glimpse of Logan's man bun sticking over the top of the seat. "That was nice of him," I said, buckling my seatbelt.

Ray took my hand again, our fingers naturally intertwining. He leaned closer, his voice low and teasing. "Alright, spill it. What did my mom say to you?"

I turned to face him, meeting his dark eyes. "Nothing much," I replied carefully. "She just mentioned your ex."

He scoffed, shaking his head. "Mom hates Courtney," he muttered, his tone edged with frustration. "But you don't need to worry about that."

"It's not your mom I'm worried about," I said, my voice firmer now. "I'm worried because I don't understand why your family hates her so much."

Ray's expression darkened, his jaw tightening. He looked away for a moment as if weighing his words. "You'll know," he said finally, his voice softening. "I just need to prepare myself to tell you that story."

"Okay," I sighed, leaning back against the seat. "So far, you haven't given me a reason not to trust you. But you do understand why I want to know, right?"

"I do," he said, his eyes meeting mine again, this time with a mix of hope and sincerity. "You've told me your past, and I promise, I'll tell you mine fully."

With that, he lifted our intertwined hands and pressed a gentle kiss to the back of mine. The gesture melted away any lingering doubt, and I nodded.

The pilot's voice crackled over the intercom, announcing our departure. As the plane ascended, Ray and I settled into a comfortable rhythm. We shuffled through my playlist, picking songs we both liked and shared snacks and pineapple juice.

Though I couldn't shake the nerves of meeting the band, or the lingering questions about Courtney, I felt a strange sense of calm as we soared through the night. Ray had a way of grounding me, even when the world felt overwhelming.

"Is he okay?" I asked, pointing to James, who looked a little off, his gaze darting nervously around the cabin.

Ray let out a soft laugh, his eyes briefly glancing at his friend. "It's always like that with him," he said, a hint of affection in his voice despite the teasing. "He's terrified of flying. That's why we usually stick to the bus for traveling." He shrugged. "That's why he acted all weird at the airport too."

I raised an eyebrow. "So, we're going straight to the bus after landing?"

Ray nodded, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Yep. The bus will be waiting for us." He leaned back in his seat, his voice softening. "You should try to sleep, once we land there won't be much time for rest." He looked at me, his tired eyes a mirror of how I felt after hours of traveling. "We're heading straight to La Cigale for rehearsal."

I grinned, the excitement bubbling up inside me. "I'm really looking forward to the concert," I said, my smile wide.

Ray smirked, leaning closer with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Oh, trust me, it'll be way better than that house party gig." His lips brushed against my ear as he spoke, sending a little shiver down my spine.

I laughed, shaking my head. "I know, I saw you guys perform at The Echo a year ago." My hand found its way to his cheek, a playful touch.

Ray's eyes widened in mock surprise. "You never told me that," he said, his brows furrowing in that adorable way.

I beamed. "Well, I'm telling you now."

Ray's expression softened, and he leaned back against the seat with a sigh. "Imagine if we'd met back then," he mused, his voice low. "Everything would be so different."

I frowned, squeezing his hand tighter. "Yeah," I said softly. "We wouldn't be here. I was with Jason, and you were with Courtney." My voice faltered slightly as I said her name.

Ray's face shifted his brows furrowing as he stared at me. "I know it doesn't make sense," he began, his tone sincere, "but I hate that you were with other guys." His eyes darkened, his gaze unwavering.

I giggled, the tension breaking. "You've been with other girls too," I teased, raising an eyebrow.

Ray rolled his eyes, letting out a dramatic sigh. "I said it wouldn't make sense," he replied, his voice laced with humor. He leaned his head back, eyes closing as if he were trying to relax.

We fell into a comfortable silence, letting the music play on. Black Veil Brides sang about letting go of agony, and I closed my eyes, letting the rhythm soothe me. Ray's fingers found their way to my loose hair, gently stroking it, and I melted into his touch. Before I knew it, my head rested on his shoulder, the warmth of his body lulling me into sleep.

When I woke up, the lights on the plane were dim, and I blinked several times, trying to shake off the drowsiness. Something heavy rested on my upper body, and when I looked down, I realized Ray's leather jacket had been draped over me. The soft scent of him lingered on the fabric, and I smiled to myself.

I shifted, my body slightly awkward as I rolled onto my right side, my head still against his shoulder. Ray sat up straight, his posture relaxed as he stretched, his arms lifting above his head, revealing the ink on his waist.

He glanced over at me, a lazy smile curling on his lips. "Did you get some sleep?" he asked, his voice low and warm.

I smiled, a little sheepish. "Yeah, a bit." I raised the window shade, peering out at the world below. Paris. The city I'd always dreamed of visiting, and there it was, sprawled out before me, bathed in the soft light of dawn.

The sky was a gentle blue, sprinkled with fluffy white clouds, and the city's iconic landmarks were just beginning to come into view. I couldn't help but gasp in awe. This was it. Paris. Tom's city too, and the realization hit me like a wave. The betrayal still stung. Tom had been silent about everything, and I could still feel the weight of his words hanging over me, even here.

Ray's voice pulled me from my thoughts. "Sam?" His tone was husky as if he could sense my sudden shift in mood.

"Yeah," I replied, shaking my head as I snapped out of my reverie. "I'm coming." I moved quickly to get out of my seat, my foot catching on the bottom of the seat in front of me. I stumbled, but Ray was there in an instant, catching me by the elbow.

"You okay?" he asked, his grip firm but gentle.

I laughed, brushing off my embarrassment. "Yeah, I'm fine."

The rest of the disembarking process went smoothly, and we were soon on the ground in Paris. The equipment retrieval process was just like it had been back in L.A., a routine the band was used to. Three men greeted us at the baggage area, and Ray explained that these were the same guys who had traveled with them the last time they toured Europe. Familiar faces, like old friends, ready to help the band settle in.

They introduced me to Louis first. He was the bus driver and the one coordinating the entire trip. Louis looked to be in his forties, his bald head gleaming under the fluorescent lights of the airport. He was of average height, but his beer belly made him stand out, giving him a kind of friendly, unassuming vibe. As he walked toward me, I couldn't help but notice the way he seemed to command the space, his demeanor calm but purposeful.

Beside him were two other guys who looked younger, probably around twenty. They would be helping with the equipment installation at the concerts and selling band merch before and after the shows. Adam was tall and lanky, with messy blond hair and a patchy auburn goatee that barely connected at the sides. He looked a bit like he hadn't seen a razor in a while but in a charming, careless way.

His friend Gabriel—or Gabe, as everyone called him—stood just opposite to him. Gabe was shorter and muscular, his biceps bulging under the sleeves of his black t-shirt as he hefted the luggage onto the bus. His long black hair was braided simply down his back, and his serious expression made him seem like he could lift anything with ease.

The band had rented the bus for the entire tour, which meant the van would be their—our home for the time being. From the outside, the bus didn't look that impressive—about forty-five feet long with a sleek black body and white stripes running along its sides. The metallic bottom near the wheels reflected the sunlight, but there was something about it that made it seem smaller than it really was.

When I stepped inside, though, I was surprised. The outside was deceiving. The interior was spacious, with a sleek black and gray color scheme, punctuated by deep brown accents. The first thing I noticed were the driver and passenger seats up front, then the stairs leading further in.

To either side of the bus were black sofas, plush and inviting, with cabinets above them for storage. A microwave and a coffeemaker sat on a small counter next to a sink and a mini-fridge at the far end. There was even a little brown table against the left side of the bus, creating a functional kitchen and dining area.

In the middle of the bus were the sleeping bunks—eight beds in total, divided into two rows of four on each side. Each bunk was enclosed by gray curtains, offering some privacy from the hallway. At the very back of the bus, there was a small bathroom, complete with a mirror, toilet, and shower, tucked away in its own corner.

As we all climbed onto the bus, everyone picked their sleeping spots. Ray and I were going to share a bunk, though there was an empty one above ours if I wanted it. But I didn't mind. The idea of being close to him, even in such a confined space, made my stomach flutter with anticipation.

We quickly got everything settled, including luggage and sorting out minor disputes over sleeping arrangements. Once the chaos settled, we gathered around the small kitchen table, and the bus began to roll forward, heading toward the first stop of the tour. It was only about a twenty-minute drive from the airport, but there was a buzz in the air, a sense of excitement as we started the journey.