We made our way through the tunnels that led to a secret exit where two Suburbans were already idling and waiting. I grabbed Braxton’s elbow just as she started for one of the cars and held her hostage while her friends climbed inside. I had no doubt they were off to celebrate and envied the days when we were that carefree.

“Something wrong?” she asked me with a deep frown.

“You did great tonight.”

Even though I meant it, I could barely form the words. I didn’t want her to get comfortable. When she beamed at me, I briefly lost my train of thought. Could she hear my heart beating out of control? Could she feel my palms sweat from the effort not to break my own rules? If she looked down, she’d definitely see a bulge.

“Thanks. That was…surreal.”

Her brown eyes brightened even further as she waited for my response. None came to mind that wouldn’t jeopardize more than I already had, so I carefully chose my next words. “Same time tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

I’d already turned away, so I didn’t see her glare, but I felt it. I wasn’t the least bit sorry, either. If she knew better, she would be thanking me right now instead of thinking of ways to murder me.

This dynamic we set was better for her too.

I’d been looking at this whole thing all wrong. I’d envisioned myself alone on the road with Houston, Loren, and Jericho—a recurring plot in all my nightmares. I didn’t consider the ninety-seven, ninety-eight, ninety-nine people who would be tagging along.

It was the morning after our third show. Ten black sleeper buses were waiting for us in San Jose, where we’d spent the night in a hotel. The crew was busy loading them with our bags and equipment too precious for the one hundred and twenty cargo trucks carrying our stage, screens, lights, and speakers from venue to venue.

Xavier had been kind enough to explain that we were leapfrogging it. We had two identical stages and two teams. While we performed in one city, one of those teams would be setting up in the next.

I shuddered to think of how much this all cost. It was nothing compared to the revenue Bound generated. Their last tour had brought in over three hundred million.

“You look like someone just told you you’re a lamb, and we’re the wolves come to devour you,” Loren greeted me. His hair was perfectly coiffed despite the early hour and his wardrobe impeccable. I had a witty retort in mind, but then he lifted a Starbucks coffee cup with my name scrawled on the side. “For you.”

I eagerly accepted it with hearts in my eyes and immediately took a sip, surprised to find that it was not only black—he’d remembered—but that it was piping hot. “I’m surprised,” I said instead of a thank-you. Loren seemed like the type to take a mile if I gave him an inch. “I didn’t know you made coffee runs.”

“That’s because I don’t. Rich does, apparently. I snagged yours when he wasn’t looking. Thought I’d take the credit.”

Figures.

I glared at Loren over the top of my cup, and he beamed at me in return. He was an ass, but man, he was gorgeous. It was hard to ignore when he flaunted it so shamelessly. As strong as this coffee was, the phantom taste of cherries easily overpowered it, so I started for the bus that I caught my bags being loaded onto moments ago. Two steps in, I felt someone following, so I peeked over my shoulder.

Loren was hot on my heels.

He was engrossed in his phone as he walked, so sure that water would part for him that he wasn’t at all worried about bumping into someone or something.

Climbing the steps onto the bus, I stopped when I came to a barrier separating the living area from the helm. It was a floor-to-ceiling glass door with blackout tint that slid open with the push of a button.

“Mi casa es su casa,” Loren said after reaching past me to push the button on the wall next to the door.

I wasn’t sure what I expected, but I knew this wasn’t it. Living on a bus for several months didn’t exactly sound like a day spa, but this was close to it. This bus was decked out better than my crappy apartment.

Upon entering, I was standing in a living room with a U-shaped sectional that could easily sleep three grown men comfortably. Hanging above the brown couch was a painting of what I guessed was downtown Portland near the riverfront. Directly across was a sixty-inch flat-screen built into the wall. A black rug even covered the wooden floor spanning most of the living room. It looked so plush that I fought the urge to lie across it. I bet I could sleep there all night and not feel a thing in the morning.

Next to the space was a kitchenette complete with a stove, microwave, sink, dishwasher, and…was that a goddamn full-sized fridge? I gaped at it, forgetting that I wasn’t alone.

Yup.

These boys had it made in the shade.

When I ventured deeper, I even found a little nook built into the bus’s side, between the sectional and the refrigerator, that could seat four people on the booth-like seats.

This might not be the nightmare I imagined.

The moment the thought entered my mind, the door in front of me slid open, revealing the rest of the bus and an angry-looking Houston. He wore a clean white T-shirt and dark-blue sweats as if he were relaxing at home. I guess, in a way, he was. This was only new to me.

“You’re late.”

His favorite goddamn phrase even when I wasn’t.

“I’ve been standing outside for twenty minutes. If you were so concerned, you would have looked for me yourself.”

Houston jerked his head over my shoulder. “Why do you think he found you?”

“Hey, I would have gone,” Loren objected. “Eventually.”

I rolled my eyes and tried to pass Houston, but the doorway was too narrow, and he filled it too easily. I didn’t even know where the hell I was going or what I would do once I got there. I just needed to be away from them.

“Excuse me,” I forced myself to say when he refused to move.

“Did Loren give you a tour?”

“He didn’t need to. It’s not like I could get lost walking a straight line. Excuse me,” I repeated when he continued to block my way.

Reaching past me, he wordlessly opened the door next to me, which forced me to back up or be hit. “This is the bathroom we use for guests.”

“Which we never have,” Loren added. Houston ignored him.

Barely sparing a glance inside, I found a clean half bath and nodded, prompting him to close the door and turn back the way he came.

“This is where you’ll be sleeping,” Houston said as I followed him.

There were four bunks built into the bus, two on each side, with curtains for privacy. Houston slid back the curtain of the top one perpendicular to my right shoulder. The bed was narrow but long, and the bunk tall enough to sit up fully without bumping my head. It was already covered with bedding even though I’d brought my own, and they looked way more expensive and comfortable than my ten-dollar sheets from Target. Though, what really sold me was the small TV built into the wall at the foot of the bed.

“It has Netflix,” Loren announced.

It didn’t escape my notice that he’d been quiet until now. Spending the last three months with them with another year to go, I’d already learned that Loren only felt the need to make his presence known when Houston was around. I wondered how much longer it would take me to grasp why. Perhaps it was because Loren didn’t like being told what to do, and Houston thrived on giving orders.

My attention shifted back and forth between Houston, who stared at Loren over my shoulder, and Loren silently daring Houston to do what was on his mind. My gut told me their little tiff was because of me, but my head wouldn’t allow me to care. I’d already done enough by getting myself trapped between them. The passageway was narrow, and I stood between two alpha males seconds away from ripping into each other. I was probably the only reason they hadn’t already come to blows.

Yay me.

“So,” I said slowly, interrupting their brooding, “is this it or…?”

Houston’s gaze slowly returned to me. I watched his jaw firm before he wordlessly spun on his heel and led me through another doorway. It was a bedroom the size of a standard guest room, and inside was a king-sized bed, a nightstand on each side with trash bins underneath, and another flat-screen spanning the wall it faced. My favorite part of the room was the wall next to the door that had been painted to depict them—Houston, Loren, Jericho, and…Calvin. The aromatic but bitter smell of olive oil suddenly filled my nose.

Calvin should have been the one standing here. Not me. I never thought I’d enjoy filling a dead man’s shoes, but I hadn’t expected to feel so guilty about it either.

As Houston led me through the bedroom until we reached the bathroom, I realized the walkway between the bed and the wall was narrow. The bathroom was about the size of mine at home, which said more for the bus than it did my apartment. It even had a glass shower big enough to fit two people, a sink with plenty of counter space, and a toilet disappointingly not lined with gold.

I felt duped.

Houston and Loren had unconsciously hyped me up for this moment only to show me a normal goddamn toilet. There was no eighteen-karat gold anywhere.