19

There is a certain peculiarity about being on the road, where the sights, sounds, and smells constantly change. A sense of freedom mixes with the hectic schedules and creates its own paradox—one filled with strange beds and too-rich foods, downtime that stretches endlessly but somehow is never enough. This is our third tour, but it's something you never get used to.

In the days of slogging it around on a bus, the status quo was marked by the never-ending struggle for bathroom time and the constant shuffle of five guys trying to find a comfortable spot to sleep.

Now it's private jets and luxury hotels, professional photographers contorting themselves in the front row to get the right shot, and crowds as vast as the ocean. It's impossible to discern where they end, and the rest of the world begins.

The incessant flashing lights that follow us have become a part of our daily routine—the paparazzi who doggedly hunt us down, no matter how low-key we try to be. The attention was stressful at first, but over time it's turned into more of an annoyance than anything. My one saving grace is that I'm in the background.

They're interested in Eric and Dmitri's wedding, or tiny Theo's viral video of beating up his ex that still makes its rounds. No one notices the quiet keyboardist in the back of the group—the one with no drama and no personal life. In this very public existence, I cherish the fact that my life remains largely my own.

Our performances in Chicago, Dallas, and San Francisco go off without a hitch, and I'm endlessly entertained by the distinct vibes in each city's audience. Even at a rock concert, there are an insane number of cowboy hats peppering the crowd in Texas.

In between shows, Monica schedules virtual interviews. The five of us pack into one of our hotel rooms and huddle around a phone, answering questions before it's time to load up and move on to the next location.

My mind is silenced by the whirlwind of activity until the excitement comes to a close and it's time for rest. Evenings are spent with music blasting in my already-ringing ears or furiously jotting down the lines that run through my head on repeat. Songwriting has never been my forte, but now it surges inside me, desperate for an outlet. If I don't find a way to channel the creativity, it will drive me insane.

Turbulence makes the plane bounce, and I'm jolted out of my thoughts. "Sorry about that." Jenn's voice rings over the intercom. "There's a patch of rough air while we approach our destination. We will land in D.C. soon."

We left this morning, but the time difference means we'll touch down in the early evening. The long summer days help, since there will still be several hours of daylight once we land.

Our descent is jostled by a few patches of heavy clouds, but we push through to find ourselves welcomed back to the east coast by clear blue skies and bright sunlight. Once we come to a halt, I stand up and stretch, stiff from sitting in an airplane seat for an extended period, even if the seats are comfortable.

"I'm so hungry!" Theo whines from behind me, and normally I'd tease him, but my stomach growls, too.

"Dinner plans?" Eric asks Dante, who nods.

"Yeah, Monica booked a private room at a local place. She's meeting us there along with the security team so that everyone gets acquainted before we're shoved on a plane in tight quarters together."

"I forgive you for not hiring an errand boy, since you're giving me bodyguards." Theo flutters his long lashes.

Dante rolls his eyes. "They aren't just for you—"

"Yay, just for me!" Theo says in a weird whispering shout, narrowing his eyes at Dante and daring him to say otherwise. Luckily for Dante, the airplane door opens and a feminine squeal has the group turning with a shared smile. Monica charges onto the plane, wrapping us in one of her famous bear hugs.

"You guys have been killing this tour! I'm so proud of you all."

"We couldn't do it without you," Dante says, giving her a rare hug. "I didn't expect to see you until we got to the restaurant."

"I wanted to surprise my boys." She waves for us to follow her as she steps through the door. Outside, a sleek black stretch limo awaits, drawing excited whoops from Theo and Eric as they rush over to check it out.

"Aren't we trying to be low-key?" Amused, I raise my brow at the brunette.

She dismisses me with a laugh. "Given the amount of high-profile activity in D.C., I figured we could do it without catching too much attention. Spoil ourselves before we spend twelve hours on a plane."

"Get in, assholes!" Eric shouts, already inside.

"There are snacks! " Theo sounds suspiciously like his mouth is full.

Dmitri and Dante both sigh at their partners, and I can't help the grin that spreads across my face as we walk over and climb inside. The limo has soft white leather seats that are definitely more elegant than anything I've ever sat in, while the stocked bar and snacks have already caught Theo's attention.

The drive to the restaurant is full of excited chatter, Monica spouting off a never-ending stream of questions even though we talk to her every day and keep her updated. It was clear from the start that she was the right pick for our agent, because she effortlessly blended with our group and unique dynamic.

We either got lucky, or someone knew what they were doing when we hired her.

My money's on the first.

Smoked meat and spices saturate the air at the restaurant, a local place with a brick exterior and white smoke billowing from an enormous outdoor oven. Despite the trail mix and beef jerky I snacked on in the limo, my stomach growls.

Inside, the hostess leads us to a private room where someone takes our drink orders. "The rest of the team should be here shortly," Monica says, giving a friendly wave to the server. He seems shy, hesitating and not speaking as he places a few baskets of bread on the table.

As soon as he lets go of it, the group pounces like a school of piranhas. The poor server, who can't be over twenty, looks starstruck as he watches Eric stuff so much bread in his mouth it causes his cheeks to balloon out.

He shoots a terrified glance in my direction as I huff out a laugh, then immediately darts his eyes away. "Hey," I say, and his gaze snaps back to mine so fast it gives me whiplash. I peek at his nametag. "Jordan, you can relax, man. We're a bunch of idiots."

He laughs, but the sound is strangled… maybe a little manic. "I've listened to you guys for years," he whispers. "It's just… weird, you know? Seeing you as real people?"

Both our eyes fall to where Eric and Theo are fighting over the last piece of bread in one of the baskets. "Like I said," I say, voice dry as I watch Eric win and cheer, running away from an indignant Theo. "Idiots. Although, you may save yourself the trouble and load the table up with bread. They'll eat it."

He laughs again, easier this time, then nods as he wanders off.

He stares over his shoulder as he walks, eyes fixed on the band, and I pretend not to notice when he awkwardly bumps into the doorframe. I make my way towards Monica, intending to discuss the possibility of gifting the guy tickets to tomorrow's show, when a sudden commotion breaks out.

"Security team is here," Dante announces from behind me, and I scoff and grab a piece of bread to munch on as I lean against the wall, staring out the window. The idea of adding more people to my mandatory daily interactions is exhausting, but there's nothing I can do about it.

Faintly, Dante's voice reaches my ears as he welcomes the newcomers, accompanied by a soft squeal from Theo. Deeper voices join the conversation, and I bring my hand to my temple, rubbing at the headache that threatens to emerge.

"Let me introduce you guys to the band," Dante says, and I sigh, knowing I'll have to socialize. They make their rounds, speaking to Monica, then Eric and Dmitri, finally closing in on me.

"This is Tai Hiyama, our keyboardist and backup singer." I square my shoulders and turn to find Dante standing beside two large men. "Tai, meet Bruce and Aaron..." Bruce looks mean as hell, bald, with a thick goatee, and Aaron has brownish-blonde curls in a bun and a baby face that contradicts his imposing size.

"Nice to meet you," Aaron says, and Bruce nods with a stern scowl in place. Movement behind them catches my attention, and as Aaron steps aside, my throat squeezes closed.

My voice is nothing more than a rasping exhale. "Connor?" Familiar hazel eyes land on mine, flaring in surprise.

I take a step backward, my back crashing against the wall, and his hand flies out like he's reaching for me. My heart riots, uncertain whether to thunder inside my chest or simply give up, while my eyes stay fixed on his.

Dante's frown is confused, and he shakes his head as he plants a familiar hand on Connor's shoulder.

"No, this is Jugs."