Jean Haus - With the Band

“Hey, assholes!” Gabe yells from the front of the bus. “I didn’t peel potatoes for nothing!”

I stand. “We keep saying it, but we really need to let the past go. We’ve got now and the future,” I say with a bright smile, and tug him out of the room before Gabe loses it.

After performing, signing a few autographs, and having pictures taken with fans, Sam leads me to the bus. He drags me past snoring Gary to the back of the bus, which is parked behind an arena in Salt Lake City. And after shutting the curtain to our little cave, he drags me to the couch and pulls me onto his lap.

“We’ve got about forty minutes,” he says, pushing his hands under my shirt.

He goes to kiss me but I turn my head. “We’re not having sex with Gary sleeping in the front room,” I whisper.

His lips slide along my cheek. “Who said anything about sex?”

“Sam,” I warn.

“Just want some semi-alone time.” He tugs my head down and kisses me.

Though the kiss pulls me into the passion his mouth always creates, I push at his chest. “Wait, wait,” I gasp. “I need to tell you something.”

Sighing, he falls forward, his forehead against my shoulder. “What?”

“Well . . .” I say slowly, trying to collect my thoughts, even though the topic I’m about to bring up has been on my mind all day. During their sound checks, while I ran the booth—and as I shot photos of them performing, of Sam performing—that was when the lightbulb clicked on and everything made sense. “I know we both said to leave the past in the past, but . . .”

He looks up at me, his lips turning into a thin line.

“I slowly came to realize something today. I didn’t ever truly like Seth. I was in love with the idea of him. The idea that the lead singer, the guy all the girls wanted, wanted me. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t a total airhead, there were times that Seth was charming—”

“I don’t want to talk about my brother and you,” Sam says, interrupting in a tight tone.

I put my hand up. “Wait. Let me get to the point. Seth and I were superficial. He’d call and text me all week, then ignore me until the end of the night at the parties I rushed to.”

Sam groans against my shoulder.

“During most of those parties, I was with you. Until today, I’d forgotten about the party at the lake, where we lay on the dock, looking at the stars, talking about music and college. Or the time you drove me all the way home when Jill took off with some guy. You introduced me to the Violent Femmes and Moby. Remember that night we lit those firecrackers—”

Sam leans back and looks at me. Despondency lines his features. “Peyton, are you telling me that until now you didn’t remember any of our time together?”

“I had . . . maybe not forgotten, but I tried to block everything after the fallout. I felt guilty because why would I sleep with you but not my boyfriend? I didn’t understand myself at all. I know that now.”

He grabs my shoulders. “We need to leave this shit alone. We were kids.”

I shake my head. “I was superficial, Sam. I’m certain, looking back, I was falling for you, but I was blinded by what Seth represented—the attention, the other girls being jealous of me. It went to my head.”

“I’m okay with the past, Peyton. You don’t have to do this.”

“It was always you.” I grab his hand and clasp it to my heart. “You were here even then,” I say, leaning toward him and making our gazes level. “No one else has ever been.”

He stares at me, lets the truth of my words settle. His other hand trembles slightly as he pushes a strand of my hair back. “It’s the same for me. The girls between then and now are a haze. It’s always been you for me too.”

I can’t help smiling as I press my lips to his.

We’re content to hold each other, kissing softly and sighing into each other’s mouth, until Sam pushes gently on my back. His hands settle on my thighs. “Your boots are hot,” he says in a whisper, bending to kiss a knee. His hand slides up my thigh, brushing the edge of my panties. “And I love this skirt.”

As his mouth, warm and sweet and soft, slides up my inner thigh, I pant out, “Sam?”

“Shh,” he says as his fingers push my underwear out of the way. “No sex. I’m just kissing you. Just kissing,” he murmurs, and his hot breath warms the flesh quivering beneath it.

“Um,” I whisper nervously, but when his mouth finds the center of me, I gasp, “Oh! Oh, okay. Just kissing . . .”

Sam holds the hotel key card above the slot and shoots me a smoldering look. “You know I’m going to attack you as soon as we get inside, right?”

I keep my expression blank. “Well, I’d like to unpack first, take a shower, and relax.”

“Screw unpacking but hell yes to a shower.” He slides the key into the lock and opens the door.

I rush past him, dropping my suitcase near the closet. Since the room is a standard double, I run behind the chair in the corner.

Within seconds, Sam’s leaning over the chair, with his hands bracing the wall on both sides of my head. “The chair ain’t gonna stop me, honey.”

I raise a brow. “You didn’t just call me honey.”

“I did,” he says, grinning as he bends down and runs his lips over my chin, down my neck, and into my cleavage. He sucks the skin there, and my knees start turning to mush. One of his hands slides down the wall and pulls my tank top lower, giving his lips more access to the swell of my breasts.

Giving into a rising tide of lust, I am about to slip down the wall when someone pounds at the door.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Sam says against my skin. The pounding continues. He stands up as a sneer twists his full lips. “Each one of those fuckers knows why I got my own room.”

The pounding grows louder.

“Let me get it.” I shove at his shoulders.

He steps away from the chair. “Oh no. I’ll get it, and shove a boot up someone’s ass.”

“You’re wearing flip-flops,” I say with a giggle, coming out from behind the chair.

He glares at me over his shoulder before whipping the door open.

Both of our mouths fall open at the sight of the person standing in the doorway.

“Hey, guys,” Seth says, stepping into the room. After kicking the door closed with one of his beat-up checkered Vans, he punches his brother lightly on the arm. “I always wanted to visit California, bro. More like LA but Fresno works.”

Fists clenched at his sides, Sam looks like he’s about to blow up, and I’m aware it has nothing to do with us being interrupted. His expression is angry and worried and desperate all at the same time.

But his brother just crosses his arms and grins at him.

The music blasts above us on the stage. It’s the last show, and the fans are roaring from behind the line of bodyguards. Seth is my shadow as I shoot pictures of screaming fans. I take shot after shot as he looks from the stage to the crowd. As I switch lenses, I catch his shocked expression and understand it instantly. It’s mind-blowing how much Luminescent Juliet’s fan base has grown in the past six weeks. The concert seats are nearly full, and except for the extra-smalls, we’re out of T-shirts today—we sold out completely fifteen minutes after the doors opened.

Sam does his bouncing thing and winks at girls in the front row. Usually, he winks and flirts with me when I’m up here with my camera, but I’m aware he’s not going to go there with Seth next to me. After tearing Seth a new asshole, then calling his mother—who reminded him that Seth is an adult, even if he lives at home still—Romeo plays off us being together as friends once again. Wanting to keep Seth calm, I go with it.