C-Flat to C-Sharp (PR Girls & Instalove 3)

“You dropped your fancy new clothes on the floor and just left them there without hanging anything up?” she exclaimed.

I stared blankly at the bags in the corner. “I didn’t think about it.”

She shook her head, then squirmed out of my grasp. “Wrinkles can set in if things are folded for too long,” she said. Before I could stop her, she had set the bags across my kitchen table and began going through everything.

“Tell me if there’s anything you don’t like,” I said, but before I could continue, my phone rang. I grabbed it and went out to the hallway.

“Ethan,” an excited voice blurred in my ear, “The tour is on.”

“Seriously? That’s awesome.”

My friend Bruce was a tour manager for several traveling bands, and had been in the process of setting me up with a string of shows.

“I managed to tack you onto the Mod Palace tour,” he continued.

“Is that the one that starts in six weeks?” I asked. “Where we’ll be gone for a month?”

“That’s it,” his deep voice chuckled. “So prepare your boys, and get ready to live in my stinky old van.”

“Can’t wait,” I laughed. “It’s been a while since we’ve played a string of out-of-town shows. We’re all really looking forward to it. Thanks, man.”

“No problem. I know that you guys are going to be the perfect addition.”

As I hung up, I saw that Corina had already arranged all of the clothing in my closet, with the shoes neatly on the floor, and the accessories arranged in a box.

“You’re going on tour?” she asked in a tiny voice that instantly broke my heart.

Taking her hand, I led her back to the couch. “First off, thank you so much for arranging the stylist, and getting those clothes. And thanks for putting everything away so nicely.”

She smiled, but it didn’t quite touch her eyes.

“About the little tour,” I said gently. “We don’t do big stadium tours that are on the road for years. That doesn’t work for our style of music, and it’s really not my thing. We go on small tours that circle out from our home base. A month is going to be our longest tour yet.”

She nodded, and I reached up to run my thumb along her bottom lip so that she’d have to stop biting it.

“Talk to me, angel. Please – tell me what you’re scared of.”

Corina shook her head, so I gripped the back of her hair to hold her still. Bringing my lips an inch from hers, I murmured, “No more kisses until you tell me everything. I want to be the best man possible for you. But I can’t do that unless you tell me what’s wrong.”

She took a deep breath, then whispered, “If all of those women are so aggressive online, knowing that they might never see you in person, how aggressive are they going to be when you come to their city?”

“Oh, God, baby,” I gasped, pulling her into my arms. Lifting her hips, I sat her in my lap so that I could hold her against my chest.

“I’m not into that kind of thing. Neither are the other guys. It’s not the party music scene where everyone gets trashed and wakes up with strangers. It’s not who we are, at all.”

She sighed. “But if you’ve been alone a while, and some sexy woman throws herself at you–”

“I will be polite and take a photo with her, then suggest she leave. If she doesn’t, I give Bruce the signal, and he escorts her out.”

“Are you serious?” she asked, turning to look at me wide-eyed.

“Absolutely. Sexual harassment works both ways. We don’t want to be groped by strangers. It’s creepy.” Her long, low exhale made me smile.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just…I’m new to all of this, and I don’t know how everything works yet.”

“We work together, angel,” I said, nuzzling her ear. “You tell me whenever you’re scared, and I’ll do absolutely everything I can to make things right.”

She nodded, her hands shifting as she began rubbing the back of my neck with her fingertips.