“E! Flabby kicked Sacha in the ass!” Mason cried out, basically cackling as he bent over from how hard he was laughing.

I felt Eliza’s heavy hand on my shoulder before I heard his snort. “Fucking Flabby,” my brother laughed, slipping a heavy and sweaty arm over me. “Does that mean I don’t have to introduce you after all?”

The man I could safely assume was Sacha—a guy, for the record, not the girl that the dumbass I’d shared a womb with led me to believe he was—shook his head before extending a hand out in my direction. “Sacha,” he said after I dropped my hands from my forehead and took my outstretched palm in his. “It’s nice to meet you, Flabby.”

The elbow I brought up to jab Eli in the rib was an after thought. “It’s Gaby, actually,” I tried to correct Sacha AKA hello-how-are-you-sexy, shaking the warm hand a little longer than I needed to. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Eli snorted again. “Don’t listen to her, her name’s Flabby, man.”

Sacha smiled again—a pull of sensual lips and straight white teeth—before he dropped his hand, eyeing Eli and me. “Are you two—?” He drew a straight, horizontal line in the air between us.

“Eww…” Eli and I both groaned out at the same time, shaking our heads quickly. It didn’t make us pull apart, though.

“I just barfed in my mouth,” Eli gagged. “This is my baby sister.”

The slow nod that Sacha gave us in return made it seem like he wasn’t entirely sure whether Eli was lying or not. Smart guy. You could never trust Eli Anthony Barreto. Ever.

“We’re twins,” I explained. “I’m filling in for Zeke the rest of the tour.” When Sacha quirked an eyebrow—a very dark one on his smooth, almost pale skin—I remembered that tonight would only be the bands’ fourth tour date together. He might not know who exactly Zeke was. “He was the old merch guy.”

By the way he nodded and snapped his fingers, it was obvious he hadn’t known Zeke’s name. “Right.”

Someone yelled from inside the bus, telling us to hurry up. Eli squeezed my shoulder. “Grab your stuff, stinky, and I’ll meet you inside.”

My stuff. The stranger’s butt. Ugh. My face got all hot again, and I found myself smiling nervously.

I nodded and watched my brother and Mason retreat into the bus, leaving me with the man whose ass I’d just kicked. He smiled and gestured toward the open compartment. “I’ll get your bag if you promise not to kick me again.”

Throwing my hands up in surrender, I shook my head. “No ass-kicking, I swear.” I couldn’t help but choke a little before adding, “I won’t call you a dick again either.” What was wrong with me? What I’d done was bad enough, and then calling him—well, Mason really—a dick was the cherry on a shit sundae.

He tipped his head back and laughed, the sound uninhibited and wonderful. “Deal.” A moment later, he was asking me which suitcase was mine prior to pulling it out. I started yanking out clean underwear, a shirt and sweatpants while he finally managed to retrieve the big black suitcase he’d been rummaging through when the ass-kicking incident happened.

Dread knotted my stomach as I remembered what I’d done. Humiliated, I zipped up my suitcase and shoved it back inside the compartment. “Your show was amazing,” I squeaked out, keeping my eyes toward the trailer hitched up to the bus. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, but it was great.”

“Thank you,” he murmured softly. It was impossible not to absorb the tone of his voice when he thanked me. There wasn’t a hint of superiority or conceitedness in it at all. He sounded pretty genuine. “First time?” he asked.