With the Band (With the Band #1)
Natasha Preston
TEXAS
MONDAY, MAY 4
OXFORD, ENGLAND
I roll over on my bed, stare up at the ceiling, and sigh down the phone. “If you fancy telling me how I’m going to get through this tour, Peyton, that’d be awesome.”
“Um…”
Best friend? Yes. Good at advice? No.
Probably doesn’t help that I’ve not told her absolutely everything yet. It’s hard to say aloud what’s happened between me and Kitt because then I’ll have to talk about what happened after.
And I won’t talk about what happened after.
“Yeah, Pey, I’m going to need more than that.”
“You’ll be fine on tour. You love it on tour. No one is better suited for looking after six grown-ass man-children than you.”
Ugh, ass.
She’s getting all Americanised, out there in LA.
“Ha, they do act worse than kids.”
“But Kitt”—even the sound of his name has me breaking out in a sweat—“is the object of your desire, and being around him makes you feel like your vagina is going to explode,” she says.
“I…what?” I make a face even though she can’t see. “Your vagina feels like it’s going to explode when you’re around a guy you like?”
I can practically see her twirling her finger around her blonde hair. “Well, not literally but yeah. In a good way.”
A good exploding vagina. Of course.
“I think I’m scared of you right now, freak.”
“You love me long time, slut. Now, stop stressing about Kitt, and enjoy seeing the world. Again.”
I roll my eyes. Everyone seems to have that misconception. Touring isn’t all that glamorous. I don’t get to sightsee everywhere and try local cuisine. “I’ll see lots of roads and lots of arenas and eat lots of room service.”
“You get some time off, right?”
“A couple of days here and there and then a bit of time between the bus tour and flying out to places like America and Australia. We have to meet up in the States.”
“Duh. I’m trying to swing a couple shows closer to home, too. Not sure yet, but I’ll do my best.”
I sit up. “Oh my God, do that! It’s been so long, Pey. I hate that you’re off being a superstar actress in LA. And, you know, also super proud,” I add with lots of enthusiasm.
I am proud of her, but I miss her like crazy. She’s the only girl I like, and I’m not exaggerating.
“I will do my best. I miss you and the boys.”
“Yeah, want to spend the night perving on my band with me?”
My band? Yes. They are mine. If it wasn’t for me, they would have missed at least five appearances. Unorganised lazy shits. I love them to death.
Especially Kitt Daniels—AKA the kiss ninja. One minute, he’s there with his lips all over mine, pinning me against the wall, and the next…poof, gone.
“I don’t know how you haven’t slept with all of them yet. Honestly, they might well be whores, but”—she wolf-whistles—“they’re all gorgeous.”
I’m one hundred percent biased, but every member of Filthy Sound really is beautiful, all in completely different ways. It’s like they were sent from the rock gods to break the heart of every woman—from Kitt Daniels, who is heavily tattooed and has dark hair, to Jack Cooper, who’s blond and lightly tattooed, to Milo Sterling, whose hair is the colour of black ink and whose skin is pristine and untouched.
“Right,” I reply.
But there’s only one of them I want to sleep with—and, well, marry—and he doesn’t feel the same.
“Is your panic over?” she asks, having about as much time for girlie drama as I do.
“Yeah, I’ll figure something out. I’m getting to be a pro at pretending I feel nothing for him.”
“Aw, Texy.”
“Ugh, shut up. We’re not doing the teenage boy-drama shit, I swear. Tell me something awesome you’ve done recently.”
“I went on a date with Chad Galley.”
My jaw falls onto my chest. “I hate you so much.”
She laughs. “Don’t be jealous. He plays some incredible characters on-screen, but trust me, he’s very good at acting.”
“No! He’s boring?” This isn’t the first time that Peyton Best has ripped apart my celebrity fantasies. I hate it when you meet someone, and they’re nothing like how you want them to be.
“Watching-paint-dry boring. I could’ve fallen asleep. Do you know what chassis goes in different cars?”
“No.”
“Oh, I do.”
“Ouch.”
Nothing is worse than being trapped on a date with someone who’s making you fall asleep. I’m not brave enough to walk out. It feels rude. Plus, “Ignorant Texas Knight” would be all over the Internet by the time I got home, and there’s enough untrue rubbish in the world about me as it is.
“Yep. Mum thinks I should give him another chance because it could’ve been nerves, but I’m not going to waste anyone’s time.”