Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
I’m on the edge of my bed again, feet swung around, eyes on the window, imagining him on the highway in the middle of this storm. “I wanna be on that bus with you right now. I want you to take me away from here … take me on that journey with you.”
He sighs with pleasure into the phone, breathing deeply.
We crossed a line tonight we can’t ever uncross. That much is clear. Everything is different now. And I don’t want it any other way.
Chapter 14.
Chase—or Austin
I wake up when the bus is still moving and it’s still dark.
Can’t even say how much sleep I got. Probably next to none. It could be five or six in the morning, barely a couple of hours since I got off the phone with TJ.
And how can I sleep when I’ve got him swimming happy laps around my brain? Each time he hops out of the water, droplets trace down the lines of his body. He gives me playful smirks before diving back in for another lap. And I just take it, unable to stop him, over and over again, his sexy laps around my every thought.
I’ve got Glorious in my grip before I know it, sitting up at the edge of the bed, notebook open next to me. “Sexy laps around my every thought …” I scribble out the lyrics, a chord, maybe F major 7. “Diving back in for another lap …” I close my eyes and see him again, swimming around and around, the graceful way his arms move, the breaths he sucks in each time his head turns for air, and these teasing looks he gives me, face flushed, lips curled at the corners. “Happy laps around my brain …” The lyrics keep changing.
It’s a few minutes later when I step out of my room and find Fiona at the side table with the curtains drawn open, blowing on a mug of coffee. “Another new one?” she asks tiredly. The sun has broken the horizon, lighting up the world after that dark night full of storms. “You’re on a roll lately, huh.”
“You can say that.” I slide onto a seat next to her and push my notebook over the table. “What do you think?”
She squints over it, still blowing her coffee. “I like the chord progression. Unusual.” She keeps reading. “Lyrics are classic you.” Her posture straightens as she reads on, as if my notebook serves better in waking her up than what’s in her mug. “Wow. How long have you been sitting on this?”
“Just wrote it early this mornin’. After wakin’ up.”
Her eyes flick up to mine. “Seriously? This is hot shit, Chase. Like … really hot. I can hear the music soft. Or I can hear it slap.” After another glance at the notebook, she leans back with a sigh, coffee cradled in her hands, studying me. “Something’s up with you. I can smell it all over your face.”
I smirk. “Can you now?”
“You never sleep with your door closed.”
“Had Glorious out. Didn’t want to disturb you,” I lie.
“Never stopped you before.” Her eyes narrow. “You look … up to something.”
“When am I not up to somethin’?” I snatch back my notebook. “Think the boys will be up for addin’ another hot new number to tonight’s show? Maybe not as an opener, but perhaps at the top of the second act?”
She gives it a thought, then surprises me with, “Nah. I don’t think so.” She nods at the notebook. “You should send us off in the middle of the show. Have a moment of just you and your guitar and the audience. Sing that sexy bitch solo.”
“Solo?” I frown. “Haven’t done a solo number in two tours.”
“We’ll bring it back. Between the acts,” she suggests. “Me, Raj, and Wily will step away. Naomi can lower everything but the spot on you. One or two songs, tops. Maybe a slowed-down solo version of ‘Easy Path to My Heart’, too, which you seem to love playing lately. Then we return for the rest of the show.” She smirks. “Ian’s so gonna hate you.”
“Or love me,” I suggest as reasonably. “I mean, he ain’t against us makin’ changes. Just … blindsiding him with ‘em.”
“Like you did the last show with the ‘Quicksand’ number.”
“Well …”
“And the adjustments we made in the show before that. And ‘No Fool For Love Songs’ that came outta nowhere. Is that what you’re calling it? I think just ‘No Fool’ has a better ring.”
From within a bunk comes Wily’s voice: “Full name. With the ‘Love Songs’ part. Don’t shorten it. And I dig the solo section idea. Now will you guys kindly shut the fuck up? Still sleeping.”
Fiona and I share a look. She rolls her eyes, and I slap shut my notebook and head back to my room to make more tweaks.