During shows, he'd sneak to the merch area with his hoodie disguising him and talk to me. I'd take my break strategically before he went on to wish him good luck. During shows, he usually said something directed toward me, like mentioning his attraction to brunettes. Then each night, he’d climb into my bunk and spend the night with me after we muffled our laughs over whatever we found funny in that moment.

It was a blinding kind of thing, this unbelievable friendship—this love—I had with and for him. It was mine and it made me happy, and I reveled in it.

But as much as his words and his kisses enveloped me, I still wondered. Calling us friends with benefits seemed so cheap, so unimportant. I knew he cared for me as more than just a friend. I could feel it in my bones.

* * *

A little over a week into the Europe tour, it seemed like someone upstairs in the white kingdom of harps and wings, decided that they wanted to help me out with this state of confusion that had taken over.

A friend of Julian’s—why it was always Julian’s friends that stirred things up was beyond me—decided he liked his American meat.

That American meat being me.

All night, the guy had been flirting with me. That lilting English accent whispered to me how cute he thought I was when he checked out Ghost Orchid merch. It wasn't like I was going after his compliments or paying the guy any attention because I wasn’t. When he first started, I just told him, “I’m dating someone.” Simple enough, right? It didn’t stop him, though.

He just kept coming back, and I found myself edging toward Carter and Gordo’s company every time he made an appearance.

It was after the show when we were outside waiting to finish loading up, that I walked over to a group standing around. Sacha was standing in the loose circle with Julian and the little flirt from earlier. As soon as I saddled up a comfortable distance away from Sacha’s side, he shot me a wide grin and took two steps over, throwing his arm over my shoulder. His chin was tipped down as he said, "Hi, Princess."

I slipped my arm around his waist and smiled. It wasn’t like we were trying to hide the affection between us; he was free with his hugs and attention and so was I. But I wasn’t the kind of girl who constantly needed someone holding my hand to feel special. Then again, that didn’t say much because he could have stuck his finger in my ear and I would have thought it was cute. "Hi."

One of Julian’s other friends visiting that day cleared his throat, making Sacha rearrange us back in the direction of the rest of the group. He hauled me in closer and gestured in my direction with his head. "Guys, this is my Gaby. Princess, this is—"

Time stopped.

I couldn't remember anything after he said my name.

My Gaby.

My Gaby.

Not everyone's Gaby. Not Flabby. Not Eli’s sister. Not just plain old Gaby.

Sacha's Gaby.

The only thing I managed to catch was The Flirt raising an eyebrow because I was in a damn dream world.

When Sacha slipped into my bunk later on, in what had become our routine, I raised an eyebrow. "I'm your Gaby?" I asked him first thing in a whisper as soon as we were settled under my sheets.

My friend grinned that earth-shattering smile that made my ovaries scream. "Yeah."

"Huh," I huffed.

Sacha dipped his mouth to mine, wrapping a flexed arm around me to pull us chest to chest. "You didn't know that you're my girl?" He pressed a long, lingering kiss on my lips.

I kissed him back, trying to leave a similar impression on him. "I didn't get the memo."

"You didn't?" he asked in a teasing voice. When I shook my head, he pressed his lips to the corner of my mouth. "You are."