Blur (Changing Colors Book 2) (26 page)

The guys generously gave me the only bedroom on the bus while they stuff themselves in the bunks like sardines. To say I’m thankful is an understatement. I like my privacy as much as the next girl, and sharing a tour bus with four dudes isn’t easy. They’re quite the English gentlemen when it comes to giving me space and first dibs on the shower.

But it’s become an unspoken rule to allow a fifteen-minute aeration period after any of them has been in the bathroom for more than a few minutes. Even these hot guys are still just a bunch of gross, smelly boys at heart.

“Brooke, just tell me,” Jesse urges. He’s sitting across from me, large body sprawled out on one of leather sofas in the main space of the bus.

“I told you, I don’t know her schedule,” I lie. Of course, I know Lindsay’s schedule. We’d be attached at the hip if there weren’t a few thousand miles between us.

He eyes me with annoyance, sliding his hands behind his head. “I’m not taking the piss on that one.”

“Well, take it, because it’s all I’ve got.”

“
Tinkerbell.”
Jesse sighs. “Tell me your gorgeous, model of a best friend is meeting up with us in New York.”

I shrug, keeping my gaze on page seventy-five of
Memories of Suffocation
. “I’m sure if she’s in town, she’ll meet us for drinks or something.”

“You’re killing me! Bloody killing me!” he groans.

I’m shutting the book as Alex sits beside me. He nudges my shoulder. “You’re fucking with him right now, aren’t you?” he whispers in my ear.

I tap the side of my nose, silently agreeing.

Alex’s laugh bounces off the walls of the tour bus. His head falls back, eyes squeezing closed in hilarity.

“Piss off, wanker!” Jesse tosses a pillow in Alex’s direction.

“Damn, I thought I’d never see the day,” Dylan interjects, making himself comfortable beside me. His arm rests against the couch cushion behind my head. “My baby brother losing his cool over a chick. Has hell frozen over?” He grins at me out of the corner of his eye, his free hand reaching for the book in my lap.

He slides his fingers between the pages, finding the gas station receipt that’s being utilized as a bookmark. His eyes scan the words, before he closes the book and sets it back in my lap. “Fucking hell, I don’t know how you can read that book more than once. I want to throw it out the window after reading what Marco just said to Sophia.”

Giggling, I nudge his shoulder, grabbing his attention from the banter still commencing between the rest of the band. “I don’t think I ever said thank you for this. So,
thank you.
It really meant a lot to me,” I whisper, holding the book to my chest.

“You’re welcome, Little Wing,” he whispers back, green eyes growing tender.

God, I hate how much that nickname affects me
. Yeah, if hate is code word for love…

Something that’s been nagging me since he gave me this copy of
Memories of Suffocation
comes to mind. “Be totally honest. Did you throw the other copy out?” I ask, still keeping my voice low enough to avoid grabbing either of the camera guys’ attention.

Dylan’s face turns to stone, and I immediately feel stupid for asking such a thoughtless question. “Because it’s cool if you used it for bonfire kindling. I wouldn’t blame you if you were cursing my name while lighting Francesca’s words on fire.” I’m grinning now, desperately trying to lighten the mood.

A quiet laugh escapes his lips, the stone face expression replaced by amusement. His hand rests on my shoulder, fingers squeezing my skin in a gentle caress. “I can guarantee no books were harmed after you left Paris,” he whispers. “I just had other plans for
that
copy.”

My nose scrunches up in confusion. “Other plans?”

That sexy smirk of his nearly knocks me on my ass. “Yes,
other plans
. Don’t worry, you’ll find out soon enough.”

“What? Dylan!” I whisper-shout. “What does that even mean?”

“It means exactly what I said it means. You’ll find out soon enough, so stop asking.”

My bottom lip puckers out. “But—”

“You’re not winning this one, love. So you might as well drop those sad puppy eyes and adorable pout.”

I glare in his direction.

He taps the side of his nose. “Still not working. Just give up now because I’m fan-fucking-tastic at keeping secrets.”

Well, that shut me up. I don’t think he even meant it
that
way, but it sure as hell stopped me in my tracks. I’m well aware of how good Dylan is at keeping secrets. He damn near rivals me in that respect.

“Tinkerbell, just bloody tell me. Tell me you talked to Lindsay about our show at the Bowery. Tell me she’s coming. Tell me I’m going to see her gorgeous ass in a few weeks,” Jesse demands.

Alex mutters “pussy” while faking a coughing fit.

Zach joins in on taunting Jesse, and I have to turn my head into Dylan’s shoulder to hide my laughter. When I finally compose myself enough to glance in Jesse’s direction, I find him staring back at me, brown eyes laced with an evil glare.

“Piss off, all of you! Even you, Tink. You can take that little smile off your face and shove it.”

“You know what? I think Lindsay will get a kick out of your torment once the next episode airs,” I tease, nodding towards Dean and the camera I’ve come to find is sewn to his hands.

All of the guys start cracking up. Well, all of them besides Jesse, who’s now showcasing a nasty glare for my benefit. I can’t fight the grin cresting my lips and find myself giving into the hilarity of the situation too.

“To think, Jesse Bissette, infamous playboy who often calls himself
Casanova
, is losing his cool over a girl,” Zach chimes in, shooting a wink in my direction.

“Not just any girl,” Jesse intervenes. “Lindsay Monroe is my dream woman. That much I figured out in Paris.”

I internally cringe at his mention of Paris, silently praying he doesn’t go any further. The last thing I need is my dirty laundry being aired out in front of Dean and Thomas.

“I’m going to make a pit stop!” Bob’s Southern twang reaches my ears. He’s our driver for the tour, and within the short span of time I’ve known him, I already think he’s fantastic. He’s just an all-around good man filled with Southern charm from the tips of his boots to his black cowboy hat. “There’s a couple of fast-food joints nearby if anyone’s hungry!”

“You’re a life saver, Bob!” I yell towards him, equal parts thankful for the distraction and the mention of food. We’ve been on the road for over six hours, and it’s well past dinnertime.

“Damn, Tink, hungry much?” Jesse teases.

I flip him the bird. “I can only live off gummy bears and Twizzlers for so long, you arse. I’m starving and I need food. Real food, even if it’s in the form of greasy burgers and fries.”

“No knocking on my gummy bears, Sawyer.” Dylan scowls, feigning irritation.

“Shut it, Bissette.” I bump him with my elbow before getting to my feet. “Oh, by the way, you might want to stock up while we’re here….” I trail off, walking towards the back bedroom for my purse.

“What? Why?” he asks, and then grasps my point. “Wait…
You ate all of my gummy bears?”

I shrug. “Maybe.”

“Jesus, woman, that was three bags worth. I’m adding this to the list.”

“What list?” I ask, stopping in my tracks and turning towards him.

“Your ‘what I owe Dylan’ list. It’s getting mighty long,
by the way
. You might want to stock up on some favors…”

My hands go to my hips. “Favors? And what kind of favors are we talking about?”

“Ohhhhh, I want to be the one that chooses the favors she owes you, mate,” Jesse interjects, beaming.

I’m shaking my head before he even gets all the words out. “Uh uh…
No. Way
. You don’t get a say in anything.”

“Why can’t I choose?” Jesse asks, holding out both hands. “That only seems fair considering the evasive answers you keep giving me about Lindsay.”

“Because you’re a total pervert.” I point my finger in his direction. “If the favors were up to you, I’d be giving Bob lap dances by the end of the night.”

Jesse shakes his head, grinning. “No, you’d be giving
Dylan
lap dances by the end of the night.”

Alex wolf whistles while Zach mimics the beat for a strip tease.

“I think I like the idea of Jesse choosing the favors,” Dylan agrees, laughing.

My heart flutters like a hummingbird’s wing inside my chest.
Is he really flirting with me?
What happened to the “we’re just friends” act?

Instead of letting myself swoon over his words, I focus on teasing the guys, particularly Jesse. “And here I thought I was doing you all a favor by inviting Lindsay and some of her model friends to come out with us after the show at the Bowery.” I tap my chin, humming under my breath. Grabbing my phone from my back pocket, I wave it in the air. “Well…I guess I’ll have to call her back…Let her know the plans have—”

And before I can get another word out, Jesse is on his feet and launching his body towards me, knocking the phone out of my hands. “Don’t even think about it, Tink.”

I’m laughing as I dive towards my phone, which is now rolling across the floor.

“A little help?” Jesse shouts, chuckling.

Next thing I know, I’m being picked up and tossed over a shoulder like a rag doll. My eyes come face-to-face,
or I should say face-to-ass
, with Dylan’s firm body. “Hey! Put me down, you idiot!”

“Hey Lindsay, it’s Jesse. How’s it going, love?”

I glance around Dylan’s tight ass, finding Jesse with my phone pressed to his ear.

The bastard. The whole lot of ‘em are just a bunch of bastards
.

“Ignore everything he says, Linds! My phone has been hijacked!” I shout at the top of my lungs.

Dylan spanks my ass in response. “Quiet, Sawyer. Jesse is on an important phone call.” His voice is filled with amusement.

And, of course, Jesse just continues his conversation with Lindsay. “Tell me you’re coming to the show…That’s bloody fantastic…”

I attempt to push myself off Dylan’s body, but it’s useless. I groan in frustration, smacking at his back like a madwoman. “God, you’re such a caveman!”

His throaty chuckle fills my ear. “Careful, love. My hand is awfully close to your gorgeous arse.”

“If you spank my ass one more time, I swear to God and the Queen, I will—”

“You’ll what?” Dylan asks. “Tell me, Brooke. What will you do if I…” he pauses, and smacks my ass again,
hard.

“Ouch!” I squeak. “You do that again, and I will play American pop songs at full volume every time we’re on this bus.
For the rest of this motherfucking tour,
I will fill this bus’s speakers with Taylor Swift, Britney Spears…the list is
endless.”

“Don’t forget Beyoncé, love. You know I’m a huge fan of the song
Sweet Dream
,” he teases.

Gah! He’s impossible.
“I’ll show you a sweet dream, you idiot,” I mutter under my breath.

“What was that?” he asks, striding down the walkway of the bus. “Did you just say something, love?”

“I said nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.” He laughs.

He is laughing at
me
.

I smack his ass hard enough to sting my hand. This only makes him laugh harder at my expense. What a cocky, egotistical (
with a perfectly tight ass
) jerk.

Eventually, he makes his way down the stairs and out the bus door. He puts me down; his hands do not release my hips until my feet are planted on the blacktop. Since the world is no longer upside down, and blood isn’t rushing to my head, I note we’re standing in the middle of a gas station parking lot. It’s a bit run down, sitting smack dab in the middle of no man’s land.

Well,
cold as balls,
somewhere in Missouri
, USA. To say I’m missing the California weather would be an understatement of epic proportions. My flip-flops, jean shorts, and t-shirt aren’t cutting it.

Once I get back on the bus, I’m grabbing my bag, putting on sweats, and then, I’ll plot my payback for Dylan—who still stands before me, sexy smirk showcased on his handsome face. Bright eyes follow suit, doing their own little dance of amusement as they take in the scowl marring my face.

Jesus Christ in a peach tree, he’s infuriating.

“You’re such an ass,” I attempt to snarl, but it’s pretty damn hard to act so mean when he’s smiling at me like this.

Dylan’s smirk morphs into a devilish grin.

I scratch the side of my face with my middle finger, which only urges him on. He lunges towards me, trying to snatch me up again. My screech is awesome, and I manage to slip out of his reach and sprint towards the convenience store doors.

“Come back, Brooke!” he calls towards me. “I need to tell you something!”

“Piss off, you wanker!” I shout back. “And just remember, pay backs are a bitch, Bissette!”

His loud chuckles follow me all the way into the store.

After a quick stop in the bathroom, I find Jesse browsing the junk food. “Hand it over.” I hold out my hand, tapping my foot impatiently.

“Thanks for letting me borrow your phone, Brooke. You’re such a sweetheart.” He winks, placing the stolen good in my hand.

“
Borrow?
I’m pretty sure that’s not the way it happened. I hope you enjoyed hijacking my phone and booty calling my best friend, because you can bet your sweet ass I will
not
be helping you when it comes to Lindsay in the future.”

“Get it straight, Tink. That wasn’t a pre-booty call. That was
a pre-booty call, booty call.
” He smiles like the cat that ate the canary, completing ignoring everything else I said.

I shake my head, laughing. “You’re hilarious, Cockelgänger.” Dylan might have told me that he let Jesse know about Lindsay’s nickname…

“I know—wait,” he pauses, face scrunching up in confusion. “
What did you just call me?
”

“I said, you’re ridiculous, Jesse.”

“That’s not what you said. You just called me Cockelgänger!”

Shaking my head, I fight the smile creeping towards the corner of my lips. “No way, I don’t think that’s what I said.”