Once upon a time, I had nothing against San Francisco.

I’d been there before a handful of times with Ghost Orchid, and I liked it as much as anyone could possibly like a city that they didn’t spend a lot of time in. After the day I’d had, exactly six shows after jabbing my ex in the throat, the city would forever be tarnished by the memory of all the shitty things that happened. I wouldn’t go as far as to say that it was the worst day of my life, but it sure as hell wasn’t the best.

When I woke up to cramps that rivaled giving birth—at least I imagined so—I hopped out of my bunk as fast as I could.

Only it wasn’t fast enough.

My brother of all people had just been getting out of bed at the same time and happened to see the huge red stain I’d been worried about.

“Holy shit! Flabby! What the fuck?!” he barked, pointing and laughing. Literally, he was pointing and laughing at me.

I flicked him off before grabbing my bag from the floor, where we all left our stuff, and darting into the tiny bathroom to take care of business.

Needless to say, he told his two bandmates. It was bad enough to deal with the cramps and back pain, but all that while getting made fun of too? It was like being twelve years old during my first period all over again.

When the jokes just kept coming and coming and coming from my brother, Mason and that twerp named Gordo, and I was this close to losing my marbles, I finally went to hide in my bunk.

Hours later, when I slipped on the last step exiting the bus and scraped the hell out of the skin covering my Achilles tendon, I threw a rock at Eliza when he laughed. Only Isaiah and Carter asked if I was fine because they were decent human beings. My brother and friends were damn dipshits.

To top it off, my phone fell out of my pocket and the corner of the screen cracked. I literally raised it up to the sky as if it were some kind of ancient sacrifice to a sun god and scream-grunted like a total psychopath.

I went right to setting up the table for the night after unloading, thankful that Carter was a solid, nice guy who didn’t relish terrorizing me.

In a brief moment of guilt, Eli had texted and asked if I wanted to grab something to eat with him since there wasn’t any catering available. To be honest, the only reason I agreed to go was because The Cloud Collision’s tour manager had given him my buy-out money. Otherwise I would have told him to go suck his nuts and leave me alone. But when I went out to meet him by the bus, I immediately zoned in on my twin.

I stared.

Then I stared some more before mumbling, “I can’t deal with you today.”

He gave me this dumb look that begged for a smack. “What?”

It should be noted that years ago, Mase and I had thrown away twenty of Eli’s stupid, ugly polo shirts that were way too small on him while simultaneously making him look like a giant douche-bag. Because apparently, he wasn’t informed that wearing not just one, but two polo shirts at the same time with the collars popped was… just… no. No. I almost shuddered having a flashback of it.

Had he complained about what we’d done? No. He’d bitched. He’d bitched and he’d bitched some more. But Eli was cheap, and he thankfully never went back to buy any more polos to layer.

Until now, apparently.

All two hundred pounds of Barreto stood there proudly with a clean, emerald green polo, which would have been nice and fine… if it didn’t have the collar flicked up straight. Ugh. “You likey?” he asked with so much enthusiasm I couldn’t find it in me to snort.

I shot a look over at Mason who was standing behind him, staring right at his friend’s neck with a funny expression on his face. I think his eye might have been twitching.

“Nice, huh?” Eli asked again for confirmation that only someone who had once worn a trucker hat could give.

Forcing the grimace from my face into a reluctant grin, I nodded. “Sure, E. If the year was still 2002 and you were on the lacrosse team.”

“Scissors, we need scissors, Flabs,” Mase muttered loudly enough for my brother to hear.

Eli frowned and told us to fuck off before we started walking around the bus toward some hamburger place they’d heard was good. We’d barely made it around the building when I patted my back pocket and realized I’d left my phone.

“Damn it, I left my phone in the bus. Let me go grab it real quick.” I didn’t even wait for them to agree that they’d stand there for me to get back before I started jogging back to the bus. Knowing them, they’d wait maybe five minutes. If I weren’t back within that time, they’d leave me. The fact was, I didn’t trust leaving my phone around these guys. Not even the guys in TCC. Though I hadn’t spoken to Miles or Julian since the incident with Brandon, I still got along well with the rest of the TCC entourage and wouldn’t hold it past them to post dick pictures on my social media pages or something else my mom could see.

I got on the bus to find Gordo on his computer on one of the couches. “What’s up?” he asked.

“Nothing. I forgot my phone, and we were on our way to eat. Do you want me to bring you something back?” I asked, already moving through the bus on my way to the middle section.

He shook his head. “I’ll grab a bite later.” He tipped his chin up and jerked his head to the side, in the direction of the bunk area and the back. “Hold on, Flabs. Sacha’s back there with a girl…”

There was a girl back there with Sacha?

What?

There was a girl back there with Sacha?

I…

I felt… I felt my stomach drop to my knees, then continue on a path through the first layer of the Earth’s crust and head straight down to its core.

He was back there with a girl.

My heart sputtered, choked and died a little in that split second.

But somehow I found myself nodding, still even-faced at Gordo’s warning.

Girl. Back. Sacha.

Sacha, Sacha, Sacha who had just gone to the movies with me and said something about my ass.

Back there with a girl.

Good grief. Why did my chest hurt? Was this what a heart attack felt like?

Before I could think about it too much, I made the snap decision to still go into the bunk area because if I didn’t, Gordo would know something was wrong. Tension throbbed right between my eyebrows at the mystery behind what I could possibly see… or hear…

Fuck!

I nodded at my old friend but managed to hold back the weak smile that would give me away. “Thanks for the warning.”

Yeah, I held my breath as I walked into the bunk area. My heart pounded and this knot formed in my throat…

His bunk was above mine. His bunk was above mine.

But he wasn’t there.

I heard the voices before I noticed that the door that led to the back room was wide open, and I saw it. Saw them.

Sacha was sitting on the bench seat directly in front of the door with his arm over the top of a girl’s shoulders. Their temples were touching. And they were whispering to each other.

In the blink of an eye, my chest began to ache again, and even though I didn’t want to blame it on the intimacy of the moment I’d walked in on, I knew it was. There’s no way to even begin to describe the feeling that flooded my chest before it decided to swim along my spine, shoulders and finally my skull. It was as if I wanted to throw up at the same time a migraine set up shop in my cranium.

I took a step forward closer to my bunk, fighting the nausea in my gut.

“We can’t do this here…” he said just barely loud enough for me to hear.

Oh, fucking hell.

My head pounded. My stomach was in a knot. Tears swam in my eyes for all of a split second before I slipped my upper body into my bunk, snatched my phone from the corner I always left it, and came back out, smashing my elbow into the wooden frame that connected all of the beds. Did it hurt like hell? Yeah, but I didn’t even have it in me to cuss because I’d made so much noise, and I needed to get the hell off the bus as soon as possible. Two minutes ago, preferably.

What the hell was wrong with me?

My heart thumped erratically as I walked by Gordo on the way out; my fists had begun shaking. I recognized the feeling manifesting itself through my body all too well.

I was jealous. Horribly, stupidly, pathetically jealous.

Jealous of the redhead who was sitting side by side with Sacha. With his arm around her. Touching her face with his.

I mean, they could have been friends, but I didn’t want to be naïve either. Mason and I were closer than best friends, and we didn’t really have physical boundaries with each other, but we never sat together, whispering. Usually we were picking on one another, not cuddling and crap. There was an intimacy to the moment that spoke volumes.

It made me want to cry.

But I wouldn’t do it.

Sacha was my friend. I shouldn’t have any feelings for him, much less possessive feelings, but I did. They were just buried deep down in the back of my head, obviously, because I’d been swimming in a river called Da Nile.

I liked him. I liked him a lot, apparently, if the awful, shit emotions that were making a snack out of my nervous system were correct. Dumb, dumb, dumb.

I had almost forgotten Eli and Mason might be waiting for me when I made it to the side of the venue building, but they were there, standing around looking at their phones. Before they could see me, I wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand to make sure my body wasn’t being a damn traitor and tried to get my facial muscles under control.

This wasn’t the time to get upset. Hell, it was never the time to get upset over Sacha spending time with a girl. On the bus. With his arm around her.

I was not going to get upset. I was not going to get upset, damn it.

I’d heard all kinds of stories over the years of band members screwing around with their fans. Hell, Mason had said something about having sex with some girl behind the bus in Las Vegas a few days ago. Every single time I’d gone on tour with Ghost Orchid, all of the monsters would have some kind of one-on-one “interaction” with their fans, even Gordo. That’s what single guys did. And some not-so-single guys that doubled as unfaithful pieces of crap.

It was a tale as old as time. Even the least attractive band member got hit on by a fan or audience member once; whether they did something about it was a different thing. There was something about musicians, even semi-popular ones, that made them more attractive to women. I understood that.

Only this time, it felt like a jab to the kidney to see a man I wasn’t dating, who wasn’t anything more than a friend to me, with someone in the bus.

I felt…

“The hell is wrong with you?” my twin asked with a scrunched-up nose as I walked up to them.

“My leg hurts from where I scraped it,” I quickly lied.

Eli blinked. “Dumbass.”

And he let it go for a little while.

While we ate, he kept looking at me, asking if I was fine—or in his exact words, “What’s up your ass?” I kept telling him my Achilles hurt, that I was cramping, and I wasn’t feeling well. Mason frowned the entire meal.

I couldn’t help but notice how Eli came to see me during the show that night, which meant he actually came to the stand instead of staying backstage or on the bus the entire time. He didn’t ask any more what was wrong, but I knew he could tell something was bothering me. The whole Sacha thing in the bus had left a hole in my chest. I was sad. Sad. It was pitiful.

I couldn’t even enjoy the show. I shoved my earplugs in and sat with my arms crossed every chance possible. Of course it was the night that the audience was super-chatty and people were mentioning Sacha’s name every five seconds because it was his hometown.

At some point, a fan tried to walk off with two CDs that had been sitting as display on the table, and that turned into a debacle with me confronting him, and the security guards having to get involved once Carter called them over. The guy called me a bitch before he got kicked out of the show. So, overall, things could have been going better. A lot better.

I didn’t even take a break that night except to go pee and change my pad because I didn’t want to deal with anyone.

I thought my night would be over the moment I finished packing up and helping Carter load the dolly.

But fate had other plans and wanted to turn that silver dagger in my gut one last time.

“We’re going to eat, Flabs,” Eliza told me as soon as I’d gotten on the bus.

I frowned because I was feeling that bitchy. “I’m not hungry.”

The look he shot me could have melted wax. “You aren’t hungry? Now I know something is wrong. You’re never not hungry.”

Leave it to Eli to actually pay attention every once in a while. I didn’t give him enough credit. My twin knew me. He was a lot smarter and kinder than his rusted, creaky heart gave him credit for. If there were anyone Eli would move Kilimanjaro for, it would be me.

Maybe. If I asked him on the right day at the right moment with a blue moon in the background.

If I lied to him completely and said that nothing was wrong, he would know. He always did and already had, which was why he hadn’t stopped asking. So I went with the next best thing: a partial lie. “I feel sick. That’s all.”

“Hmm.” He narrowed his eyes. “Too bad, you’re eating. Otherwise, I’m going to be stuck listening to you whine in a couple of hours about how you’re starving and that shit is annoying.” He glanced at me for another second before pulling me onto the seat next to him, throwing his heavy arm over my shoulders.

I didn’t even care that he was sweaty, so I put my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. Tuning out everyone getting on the bus, I felt it start moving, but I stayed in my spot, appreciating the rare moment in which my brother was both quiet and comforting at the same time. The next thing I knew, the bus was stopping again across the street from some diner. I got out with the rest of Ghost Orchid, the members of TCC following behind, though I wasn’t exactly keeping an eye.

A warm hand grasped my shoulder as we walked in. It was Mason, looking at me with concerned aquamarine eyes. “Not feeling good?”

“Not really.” I gave him a half-hearted smile.

I didn’t want to look behind me, but because I was an idiot, I did. I spotted Sacha in the parking lot with two guys, another girl and the redhead from earlier, before they made their way inside. My stomach sputtered again, and I turned back around to wait for the waitress to join three large tables for all of us to sit.

“Did you see E trip getting offstage?” Mason asked, rooted in his spot next to me.

Under normal circumstances, I would have asked for specific details and been disappointed that I missed my twin embarrassing himself, but it was a testament to the green-eyed bitch in my heart that I could barely smile. “No.”

He frowned and yanked on the end of my sweaty ponytail hard enough to make me yelp. “I don’t like seeing you like this. Quit it.”

“You dick,” I groaned, rubbing the spot where my hair was tied back. “I hope your razor yanks a couple pubes out the next time you shave down there,” I muttered.

Mason laughed. “There’s my bride.” He elbowed me with a wink. “And I don’t shave.”

Oh my God.

Just like that, I told myself to ignore the feeling in stomach and I did, mostly. I snorted, thought about hugging him for a second until I remembered he hadn’t showered in a few days, and instead poked at the spot right under his ribs where I knew he was ticklish. Once the tables were ready, I sat down between him and Eli, with Carter, Gordo and Freddy across from us.

I spotted Sacha three seats down on the same side I was on. I may or may not have noticed that he pulled out the chair next to him for the redhead before they took their seats. I ordered my food and tried to focus on the conversation around me—one was about Fruity Pebbles versus Frosted Flakes, and the other discussed woods used as guitar fingerboards. At one point, I noticed Sacha leaning forward over the table looking at me but luckily Eliza moved a split second later, blocking his view.

When I got up to the use the restroom after finishing my meal, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and started poking around at the screen like I was busy sending an important text message so I could focus on that and not the people I was walking by. Once in the bathroom, I used it as slowly as possible, willing away that crappy, unsettling sensation that seemed to jackhammer away at my nerves.

He had a girlfriend, or a girl he was interested in. Was that really so surprising? It shouldn’t be.

I wasn’t particularly stunning; I rarely put a whole bunch of effort into my appearance, and we constantly teased each other and talked about bodily functions. That wasn’t exactly screaming romance.

Fine. It was fine. Everything was okay; at least it would be.

I ducked out of the bathroom, heading back to the table with a headache. Unlike before, I trained my eyes on the wall ahead of me so that I wouldn’t look down when I passed Sacha’s seat. Was I being immature? Maybe a little, but I didn’t care. My heart was pounding, my head was throbbing, and I felt like a fucking moron.

The warm, firm grasp that landed on my forearm stopped me right when I saw the shaved hair on the side of Sacha’s head in my peripheral vision.

“Fight Club,” his low voice murmured, tightening his grip on my arm.

It took everything in me to swallow the bile that had mysteriously appeared in my stomach before I glanced at him, as blankly and indifferently as possible. Friends. We were friends, I reminded myself. “Hey.”

Those pale gray eyes flickered over my face, which I knew was smudged with eyeliner and slightly oily from how much I’d sweated throughout the day. My hair was a side-ponytail mess and there were also ketchup stains on my shirt. So, pretty much, I looked as attractive as possible…

To a blind man.

“Gaby, I want you to meet my friends.” Sacha said, watching me swallow hard. He started pointing at the four people surrounding him. “That’s Matt, Seb, Bianca and Liz.”

Liz. The redhead.

Reaching deep inside of myself for my inner adult, I pulled my arm loose of Sacha’s grasp to look at his “friends” and I waved. “Hi,” I greeted them, noticing just how fake the red color in his “friend’s” hair was. Who did she think she was? The Little Mermaid?

They all greeted me, but it was the final person who made my head hurt worse.

“Hi,” Ronald McDonald’s illegitimate daughter replied, blinking big, brown eyes in my direction. She had that kind of classic beauty that would give a photographer a boner. And perfect, clear, pale skin.

What a bitch.

“Your hair is so cute,” she added.

A big part of me wanted to say something really bitchy like “does it look like I care” or “go fuck yourself.” I didn’t though. But I really wanted to.

It was my period talking. Right.

I just smiled stiffly. “Thanks.”

“I wanted you to meet them earlier, but you disappeared on me,” Sacha explained with a smile on his face that made my stomach want to revolt.

I nodded at him, but it was so forced I’m sure my extreme level of discomfort had to be apparent.

Awkward.

I coughed and pointed down the table. “I’m going to finish eating. It was—” I nearly choked on my words because I was a terrible liar, “nice meeting you all.”

I didn’t even bother waiting for anyone to say anything before I was back in my seat, feeling like a complete fool. I knew how unrealistic it had been for me to say that I’d never have feelings for another man because I didn’t want the drama associated with a breakup ever again, but this was ridiculous. I felt betrayed and I had no reason to. I was just a girl Sacha had met and got along with because we were stuck on a bus on a trip together. That was all. My stupid fucking heart sucked; it strained in its cage while I sat there miserably.

I didn’t speak to Sacha for a week.