I check my watch for the tenth time that morning, annoyed to see only one minute has passed. A quick glance to my side confirms that Daphni is feeling equally annoyed. She’s tapping her heel against the floor impatiently. Both of our eyes are watching the elevator, waiting for Gabby to arrive.

We were all scheduled to meet in the lobby twenty minutes ago, and while tardiness is something I usually expect from Daphni, I didn’t expect it from someone as obviously type-A as Gabby. I mean, the woman literally has a color-coded study schedule that she made Melissa pass out to Daphni’s whole team to ensure that she would be uninterrupted while she studied for six hours a day.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to just run up?” Melissa asks cautiously. Daphni is in a terrible mood since fighting with Gabby yesterday, and we’re all on eggshells.

“No,” she replies brusquely. “She’s coming.”

With her words, we watch as the elevator doors open to reveal Gabby, with her black suitcase in tow.

I watch as Daphni rushes toward her sister, meeting her a few feet away in the middle of the lobby. They’re too far away for me to hear their conversation, but I can see Daphni waving her hands. She’s clearly upset, and Gabby remains calm as they talk, her lips drawn tight. She shakes her head firmly “no,” before walking away from her sister and towards a giant in a dark suit who I vaguely recognize as one of Jordan’s bodyguards. He takes her bag for her and she follows him outside.

Daphni marches back to us, fuming.

“Where is she going?” Melissa asks.

Daphni throws her hands up in the air. “She decided to ride to St. Paul with Jordan instead of coming with me. She says she needs a break from me. Can you believe that?”

I feel my jaw tick, but I wisely choose to remain silent. I can see Daphni is ready to lose it, and a quick glance at Melissa confirms she’s thinking the same thing. Looping her arm through Daphni’s, Melissa guides Daphni out of the lobby and outside to a waiting car. Thankfully there are no fans or cameras around, so we can easily pile into the waiting SUV.

Once the doors are closed, however, Daphni lets out a string of curses that rival any of the shit we used to spit out in the Corps.

“He’s just using her!” she shrieks, as our driver merges onto the highway, headed to the private airstrip where our plane is waiting.

Melissa coos sympathetically, brushing her hand down her hair, trying to calm Daphni down.

Daphni continues ranting, only calming when we finally board the jet and she gets a vodka—straight up—in her hand. She pops a large, white pill from her bag and within ten minutes, she is completely out, her long blue hair spilling over her open mouth.

I’m far too wound up and annoyed to follow suit, so instead I turn on the TV screen in front of my seat. I absently flip through the channels until they begin to blur together. I can feel my body is tight like a coil, and I’m not a hundred percent sure I understand why. I know I’m pissed she’s with him; I just don’t know why I’m so pissed that I want to punch my fist through this stupid TV.

I drop the remote and lean my seat back, focusing my energy on relaxing. We are headed to St. Paul for another show, then off to Salt Lake after that. More shows, club appearances, radio shout outs, promotional events, autograph signings… Fuck, Daphni even has paid appearances scheduled at frozen-yogurt shops. I’m running ragged following Daphni around, so I have no idea how the hell she gets her energy, besides the endless bottles of Diet Coke she carries with her everywhere. And with everything coming up, I need to dedicate my time and energy to my actual job. I can’t be thinking about Gabby every second. And it’s with that thought that I force my eyes closed and drift to sleep.

* * *

“Dude, it’s your time off, take it.”

I shake my head and rub my jaw. I haven’t shaved in a few days, and my stubble is the visible proof. “Nah, mate. I’m good,” I insist.

“Liam, you’ve been working ten days straight. Take the day off to relax. I mean, you look like shit,” John responds, grimacing as he looks at me. We’re standing in the middle of the hotel lobby as we wait for Melissa to finish checking us all in. Daphni has already gone up to her room, and is getting ready for some party tonight, where she’ll be getting paid $120,000 to show up for three hours, take some pictures, and drink for free. It’s not a bad gig.

John continues to argue with me, insisting that he cover the security detail for tonight. He’s had lighter duty for the past week, usually driving. We usually switch off after a couple of days, but I’m a greedy bastard and I knew that if I were close to Daphni, I would have a better chance of seeing Gabby. So yeah, I put in the extra hours in hopes of having the opportunity to see a girl who absolutely detests my fucking guts. It was pathetic, but it was still worth a try.

“Whatever. I’ll be back tomorrow,” I insist, finally conceding. I feel exhausted. I grab my bag and my room key and head up to the room. A quick look in the bathroom mirror confirms John’s assessment: I do look like shit. I jump in the shower, hoping the hot water will peel away this old, tired shell I’ve been inhabiting and shake me out of the spell Gabby seems to have cast over me.

Out of the shower, I sling the towel around my hips and sulk around my room. I can’t concentrate knowing that Gabby is somewhere in this city with that little shit. I press my palms down on the ledge of the window and look out, wishing I could summon her to me. We have unfinished business, and seeing her with Jordan has suddenly inspired me to make sure I finish it. And soon.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spy a coffee shop and bookstore across the street. It’s a cozy-looking place with a brick storefront. It looks like the type of place where baristas with thick-framed glasses host open poetry nights. A place where someone could go to read for hours, tucked away in a corner.

A place where someone could study in peace.