The next few days were a flurry of activity between traveling from one show to another, the crew setting up the stages, sound checks, trying out her cameras and taking tons of pictures, which had yet to be approved by the label. And now a new facet of being on tour with a rising star. Interviews. Eric had five set up for today taking place backstage at the arena.

Armed with her camera bag, Keira found a perch close enough to the action, but far enough away to not be in the mix. Despite the level of control and ease Eric displayed up on stage in these one on one interviews, his leg tapped up and down and he usually held the guitar in front of him, like a shield. He was so nervous and it only made him cuter, she thought staring at him through the viewfinder of her camera.

“And Keira is a new addition to the tour,” he said, waving her over. She froze and glanced down at herself. Jeans and a tour t-shirt weren’t exactly out to impress attire. He waved her over again and she put down her bag and tentatively walked over. The reporter and their photographer stared at her as she walked from her perch over to Eric’s side. He motioned to the empty chair beside him and she sat begrudgingly.

“What’s up?” she said, trying to sound casual.

“I was telling the Daily Star about your phenomenal talent,” he said, grinning at her, his leg tapping against the leg of the chair.

“You were?” she squeaked.

“Yes, she’ll be with me for the rest of this tour and then joining me on my solo tour.”

“That must be exciting,” the reporter said, turning to Keira.

“It really is. It’s an amazing opportunity and I can’t wait for Eric’s fans to see what I have in store for them,” she said, pasting on a smile and attempting to be a normal person. What should she do with the hands? Where did they go? Why did everything feel so awkward? And now they’re looking at her, aren’t they? They are totally looking at her not knowing what the hell to do with her hands. Eric gripped one of her hands and put his over hers resting both their hands on her knee. The reporter zeroed in on their hands, but relief washed through her that she didn’t have to worry about what to do with her hands anymore.

“So how did you two meet?” Her head snapped up at that question. Is that a normal question?

“We met at a friend’s going away party. Keira showed me some of her artwork and I was blown away.”

“And then I threw up on him.” Her face flushed. Why did she said that?

“You threw up on him?” the reporter said, eyes wide.

“I had a terrible case of food poisoning and Eric was nice enough to take care of me and make sure that I didn’t take a turn for the worst.”

“Aww, that was really sweet,” the reporter said. Eric rubbed the back of his neck and nodded. “So that explains those pictures circulating a little while ago.” He nodded again. What pictures?

“It was. I was super grateful for him taking care of me and then the next day he came to me about the tour offer. I thought it was a great opportunity. There weren’t many options for the summer and I thought it would be fun.”

“Has it been?”

“Definitely. I’m learning a lot about being on tour and taking lots of behind the scenes pictures for fans, I’m excited to finally get them into their hands.”

“What do you think, Eric? How’s it been having Keira on tour with you?”

“It’s been great. The bus can get lonely when you’re there all alone, so it’s been fun having Keira around and her pictures are excellent. I can’t wait for fans to get a chance to see them too.”

* * *

The nervous energy flowed off Keira in waves. He thought he had it bad when it came to these things. She seemed like she could jump out of her skin at any moment. He wanted to get some coverage about her photography and make sure that people at the shows knew that she was the person behind the pictures of his shows. In the back of his mind, he replayed what the studio exec said about playing up his time with Keira, but he pushed that aside. He hadn’t introduced her because of that, but it wouldn’t hurt to keep the label happy. He hadn’t heard much from Smith since they went on tour.

The tour planning was taking shape with dates already booked down the east coast and the European dates almost firmly set. He’d go to the recording studio during the break between tours and record the final song. They could slap it onto the album and release it in only a couple weeks. The reporter staring at him expectantly clued him into the fact that he’d completely zoned out.

“Sorry, what was that?” he said, clearing his throat.

“I asked how it feels to be a headliner of your own tour?”

“I don’t know how it feels yet. I’m still here supporting Uncharted.” The door at the bottom of the stage steps banged against the wall as it was thrown open. Owen climbed the stairs and froze when he saw the four of them sitting on the stage. He grumbled and banged around for a while, grabbed one of his guitars before storming back down the stairs and out the stage door. Everyone jumped as it slammed so loud against the wall that the lights overhead rattled.

“He gets really angry when he has to come back on stage for his favorite guitar,” Eric said, covering. He didn’t know what the hell was wrong with Owen these days. Before he’d gone to LA things had been cool, relaxed and fun, since he returned Owen was a ball of piss and vinegar. He’d been pleasantly surprised when Uncharted hadn’t had any diva behavior like he’d encountered with other headliners on smaller tours, but it seemed that had only been a temporary reprieve. He was making up for lost time now. He hoped that bug up his ass died soon.