Wetting my lips, I forced myself to turn away. The last thing I needed was him catching me staring at him. Pulling out my iPod, I slipped in my earphones and hit shuffle. Closing my eyes, I rested my head against the window and let the sounds of the Arctic Monkeys fill my head.
I felt something hit me in the face. Opening my eyes, I reached down and grabbed the crumpled up bit of paper and glanced at Sax.
He sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees, a wicked smile on his face. “Do you always sing so loudly?”
“Isn’t that the point?” I asked, my voice dry as I plucked the earphones out and dropped them into my lap. “To sing?”
“Sure, but you don’t need to do it all the time,” he teased. “Like, I’m sure even the best chefs in the world occasionally have baked beans on toast for dinner.”
I shrugged. “Singing relaxes me. It calms me down when I’m stressed.”
“What do you have to be stressed about?” he chuckled.
“Oh, I don’t know—performing six nights a week for the next few weeks with a band I’ve just joined?” I made a face. “I’m nervous about fucking it up.”
“Don’t even think about it. Seriously,” he said, noting my skeptical expression. “Just treat every show like a rehearsal. The point of this is to get you comfortable with singing with the band before we tackle bigger things like the LA Festival.”
“Seems like a lot of trouble to go through get me comfortable,” I mumbled.
“It’s not just about that. I mean, the exposure you guys will be getting is great, and most of the shows have sold out, but I couldn’t think of a better way than this to get you ready. You can’t really prepare yourself, if that makes sense. The best way to get to a point where you can handle the nerves is to play in front of people.”
“I guess that makes sense. But I’ve played in front of people before. I’ve done quite a few open mic nights.”
“With no pressure, right? Nobody cared if you fucked up. You could completely forget half your shit and it would still be fine. It’s different when people are coming to see you. Even more pressure when you’re in a band and their success relies partly on you.”
Shit. I hadn’t even thought of it like that. Was he trying to make me feel better here or worse?
He laughed again. Leaning forward, he reached out and poked my leg. “I’m not trying to freak you out. Just don’t psych yourself out.”
“Yeah,” I mumbled, rolling my eyes. “Great uplifting chat. You should consider counseling.”
He laughed again as I popped the earpieces back in. I shook my head and smiled.
Don’t psych myself out. Sure, no problem. I could handle that, right?
***
I walked slowly down the snack aisle of the gas station, trying to figure out what I felt like more: chocolate or Cheetos. A little voice in my head shouted at me to get both. Fuck it. I will.
I strode over to the cashier with my items, arriving there at the same time as Harry.
He looked at my stash and raised his eyebrows. “A girl who actually eats chocolate. I’m liking you more and more, M. Can I call you M?” he asked. He set his two cans of energy drinks and bag of Twizzlers down on the counter.
“I get the feeling you probably will, regardless of my answer,” I said, my voice dry.
He thought for a second and then nodded. “You’re right. I probably would. See you back at the camper, M.” He winked at me and I laughed.
Shoving my purchases in my pocket, I walked back to the van. Sax had taken the driver’s position, and the rest of the guys were stretched out on the seats behind him.
Which I guess leaves me upfront, with Sax, alone… again.
Well, kind of alone.
“This seat taken?” I asked as I opened the door.
“It is now,” Sax replied. He waited for me to climb in and shut the door before he glanced in the rear view mirror. “Everyone in?”
His question was greeted with a series of grumbles.