Unwritten (Woodlands 5)

I flick my middle finger up, which makes him laugh. Outside, both bus doors are open, but the only member of FMK around appears to be Adam. He’s got one leg bent at the knee, his foot flat against the side of the bus while he lights up a cigarette. Jesus. Why is that so sexy?

I take some comfort in the fact that he’s not running away at the sight of me. But he’s not waving me over, either. Still, my feet point in his direction and I find myself stopping in front of him.

“Hey,” I say stupidly, because I can’t think of anything else to say.

He gives me a cool nod and all that nervous anxiety I had when I was a nerd in high school bubbles up in my throat and I start babbling like a fool.

“So thanks for allowing me to come along. The bus is gorgeous. I didn’t even know a bus could be that nice. They should have a different name for them, like limobuses.”

“Coach.”

“What?”

“It’s called a luxury coach.”

“As in football coach?”

“As in.” The left side of his sexy mouth quirks up. “But it’s just a bus. In a few weeks, you’ll hate it. It’ll stink. You’ll get tired of looking at the same interior for hours at a time.” He takes another drag. “You’ll be so used to having an engine under your ass that you’ll feel the phantom vibrations for hours afterward.”

“That last one doesn’t sound so bad,” I assure him.

“Going on tour sounds fun, but it’s a long grind.”

“Well, um, thanks anyway for having me. I know you didn’t like the idea of me coming.”

His eyes darken and his fantastic lips turn down at the corners. “I like you just fine. Who said I didn’t? Davis?”

“No!” I exclaim. I don’t want him to get the wrong idea and be mad at my brother. “Davis never said a word about you. I could just tell. I mean, that you didn’t like me here because, you know.” I wave a finger at my lips, trying to indicate that he hardly ever smiles around me. Except for the fact that he’d smiled just now, and I ruined it. “I’m going to shut up now.”

“It’s fine. You’re fine. Having someone on the bus who’s not part of the band is unusual, but we’ll get used to it.” He inhales again until the cigarette is nearly all ash. “Davis says you’re bored.” He lifts one eyebrow. “And we’re only a few hours into the trip. Doesn’t bode well for the next two months.”

I feel myself blushing again. “I’m not bored.”

That eyebrow shifts higher. “So your bro is lying?”

“No. I mean, I was bored before, but mostly because of the boring code I’m working on. Not because of you guys or anything.”

“Well, like I said, the tour is a long grind. If you want something, speak up and ask for it. If you want to come back and hang, do it. The bus is your home, too.”

Either I’m imagining it, or there’s a glint of heat in his eyes as he says that.

“As long as it’s not a bother,” I murmur. “I’ll be so quiet that you won’t even notice I’m there.”

He drops the cigarette on the ground. As he grinds the stub out with his boot, he says, “Right. Like that’s possible.”

I don’t know what that means, but it makes me hot all over.

Chapter Nine

Landry

Next Stop: Lexington

I don’t go to the back and join the band. I crawl into Davis’s bunk, pull the curtain closed, and force myself to nap. It turns out to be a good skill to acquire.

When Adam told me that the tour was a grind, he wasn’t kidding. The first stop was exhilarating. The band played in a huge club with an actual stage. The biggest crowd Davis ever sang to was at the Central City summer festival, and even then only a few people were actually listening. The rest were off getting food and drink or standing in line for the portable toilets.

At these clubs, the crowds are pressed right up to the stage, shouting the lyrics along with him. And at each stop, it seems like the audiences are getting bigger.