“What are you doing, little girl?” a voice whispered at the same time a hand clamped down on my arm.

Instead of screaming like most sane people would if they were sitting in the dark watching Sabrina with a bottle of wine in hand—I peed myself a little bit. Honest to God. I peed myself. Not much, but enough.

But I’d like to justify what happened by admitting that my subconscious would always recognize the asshole that had apparently crawled across the floor to scare the Jesus out of me.

“Damn it, Mase,” I hissed as I pulled my legs to my chest, sitting up straight.

Sure enough, he was lying on the floor with a big grin on his face. “Did I get’cha?” he asked as he brushed his pajama pants off and got to his feet.

“Yeah. I need to go change my underwear now, thanks.” Thankfully, I’d brought my backpack out of the bunk area when I’d gotten up.

I ignored his laughter as I went into the bathroom and changed out of my super-sexy period underwear, putting them into one of the plastic bags we left stashed under the sink in case of emergencies. I noted that my period was, in fact, finally over. I hadn’t been sure if my hormones were still out of whack due to it, or if I was just being grumpy because I could be.

I’d still been feeling pretty bitchy all afternoon and all night—okay, all week—but it got worse after I’d run to the trailer in the middle of the opening act’s set and zeroed in on Sacha, Julian and Miles being surrounded by five girls wearing shorts that looked more like underwear and cropped tops. Prostitutes.

To be fair I’d tried to stay away from just about everyone except Carter, who was the only calming influence on the tour, over the last seven days. I did it mainly because I knew I was being mopey and moody. There was also the fact that my three baboons knew me too well, and if they put their minds to it, could figure out there was more to my attitude than simply a bad period.

So I’d told them all I was sick.

Which was why I’d been hiding in my bunk for the most part over the course of the week.

Except tonight I hadn’t been able to fall asleep. It was the first night of a two-day drive from Winnipeg to Toronto, and I had slept most of the day. I’d laid in bed reading until my eyes hurt, and by that time, the bus had gone silent, leading me to believe everyone had gone to sleep. Quiet as a ninja, I got up, snuck out of the bunk area with my backpack, pulled out the bottle of wine I’d bought that afternoon from the fridge and flipped through the satellite channels on television.

Not even half an hour into the old classic movie and Mase had gotten up.

Hating the idea of going back to bed, I headed back into the living area to find him sitting on the opposite couch I’d been on, sipping wine straight from the bottle as he watched the movie on the same super-low volume I’d left it on. When he heard me close the bathroom door, he looked over and smiled.

“Got some new panties on?”

“Ha ha,” I muttered.

Mase simply grinned as he took another drink. His eyes strayed to the screen. I sat in the same spot I’d been in and went back to watching the movie. A few minutes passed before I felt the nudge of glass against my hand. He was holding the bottle out for me to take and I did.

I’d barely taken a sip when he asked, “You finally over it?”

“I’m feeling a little better,” I answered, eyeing him, trying to be all cool and indifferent.

He gave me a flat look that immediately made me sit up straight. “Do I have STUPID written on my forehead?”

I blinked. “Is this a trick question or…?”

The jackass didn’t even hesitate in the split second between when I finished trailing off and the time it took him to reach across the walkway to pinch my butt cheek. I squealed and tried to pull away but it only made the sting worse.

“Are you over your shit with Sacha?” He finally just went right on out there and asked after letting go of my battered booty.

Umm.

What could I do? I just stared at him. If I didn’t admit or deny anything…

“Daddy Mason knows everything.” He raised his eyebrows as he sat back against the couch again. “Everything,” he enunciated.

Oh hell. “What—”

Mason stared at me with those intense blue eyes, and I stopped talking. We both knew it was pointless. Here I was thinking I was being slick by hiding and pretending I had a virus, and he’d known the truth. Which only meant the other two idiots had to know too.

That knowledge was definitely worth the sigh that came out of me as I shrugged, resigned. I scrunched up my nose, wrapping my arms around my bent knees again. “Is it that obvious?”

He shrugged back. “We figured it out the day after San Francisco.”

I winced.

“You can’t hide shit from us,” he said, confirming what I should have already known.

I sighed again. “That’s what I was afraid of, damn it.” Thinking about it for a second, something occurred to me. “Why didn’t Eli say anything?” We both knew he didn’t know how or when to shut up. Hell, everyone knew that about him.

“He doesn’t want to piss you off.”

Yeah, that made me scoff. “Since when?” He usually went out of his way to aggravate me.

That had Mase grinning. “Since you left last time, Flabs. Shit, I don’t want to piss you off too much either. That whole thing sucked.” He paused and gave me what could have been considered a bashful look if it had lasted longer than a second. “How many months did we go before you started talking to us again?”

“A few,” I answered almost guiltily. Then again, what did I have to feel guilty about? They’d opened their fat traps and said something that wasn’t their business to tell. “I missed you guys too but—“

“I know we fucked up.”

We looked at each other in silence. There really wasn’t much to say after that. It was the first time any of them had completely acknowledged that they’d done something to hurt my feelings. I’d pretty much woken up one day and decided to forgive them for being assholes. I was tired of being mad, and honestly, I really had missed them.

The next time I saw them at my parent’s house during Thanksgiving, no one brought up what they’d done, and we went on as if that night had never happened. In reality, they’d told the members of the two other bands we’d been touring with that I was going to get breast implants because I had “one small one and one big one,” as I remember very clearly. They’d laughed afterward, drunk and high out of their minds, unaware that I’d overheard.

It wasn’t even them telling people I was going to get surgery and implants that bothered me. Who cared if they knew? I wasn’t ashamed; I’d been ecstatic to finally be able to take this next step. What had reached deep within my soul and made me cry my eyes out in the venue bathroom for ten minutes straight, was that they’d laughed. They’d laughed at something that had bothered me so much for so long. I didn’t know of anyone else who had been called “deformed” at the age of thirteen at camp and then laughed at. No one understood what it was like to never be able to wear tank tops unless the neckline was high, or trying to find bras or bathing suits that could be easily manipulated with padding so that my irregularity wouldn’t be so noticeable. I never let anyone but my doctor see my chest, ever. Not even in a bra. I didn’t even let my mom or Rafe see me in a bra. Brandon had been the first person since my plastic surgeon and my gynecologist that saw my breasts since we’d started dating shortly after I’d gotten them worked on.

And these three guys that I loved and that I knew loved me back, had laughed at my expense in front of other people.

So yeah, I wasn’t going to apologize for not speaking to them for a few months. They’d deserved it. Since then, years had passed, and I wasn’t about to bring it up more than necessary.

Mase smiled, as if sensing exactly what I was thinking, and patted the seat next to him. “Come here. Come sit next to someone who loves your wino ass.”

“I’m not a wino.”

He shot me a look. “You were drinking straight from the bottle, sitting in the dark watching one of your favorite movies. You’re really going to tell me you’re not?”

The fact he knew Sabrina was one of my favorite movies didn’t escape me, but still. I blinked. “Don’t judge me.”

“Too late.”

That made me laugh. Before I could think twice, I got up and sat next to him, leaning into his shoulder with a resigned sigh. “I’m so stupid.”

Did he assure me I wasn’t dumb? Of course not. “No shit, Sherlock.” He patted my knee. “If it makes you feel any better, I wasn’t surprised. After me, he’s the best-looking guy on the tour,” the modest ass explained. “The guy’s a pussy magnet, Flab. You know girls love singers. Gordo has to beat the girls off with a stick and he doesn’t even like them. And he’s an ugly motherfucker. What does that say?”

Ugh.

Of course I already knew all that, but still. He didn’t need to just blurt it out like that. There was a hierarchy of attraction in bands regardless of what the members actually looked like: everyone liked the singer even if he looked like he ran a heroin ring; next were the guitar players, the drummers, the bass players and finally the keyboardists. It was like actors that weren’t handsome but women liked them anyway because they were famous.

“I haven’t seen him mess around with anybody, if that makes you feel any better,” he added. “But…”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” But he’d still hung out with that girl. A fact I had been trying to come to terms with for a week.

I told myself what I’d been telling myself since then: he wasn’t my boyfriend, he was my friend, and I needed to get over this possessive, jealous crap pronto. I was going to get over it. I would.

With another sigh I peered up at Mason who was still letting me lean into him and smiled reluctantly. “You really knew I was full of shit from the beginning?”

“You’ve been my best friend my whole life. Of course I know when something’s up your ass,” he stated.

That had me cracking a real grin. We had been best friends our entire lives; this beautiful, moronic boy-man who once had a gap between his teeth and didn’t hit a growth spurt until we were almost sixteen. How many things had we done for each other? More than I could ever count and that alone made my heart swell with affection. Most people didn’t have a single best friend, and I didn’t just have multiple ones—I even had some that would commit crimes for me. This guy happened to be one of them. Was he perfect? Absolutely not. Neither was I.

But who needed perfect when you had someone loyal, funny, with slight mental problems that knew you inside and out? I didn’t. “You know I love you, right?”

He put his hand on my head and ruffled my already messy hair. “Yeah, I know, Flabby.”

I smiled at him and he smiled back at me.

Then he messed with my hair some more. “If it makes you feel any better, your boobs are way nicer than that chick’s were.”

Was it rude? Of course it was, but I laughed anyway, and me laughing only made Mase do it too.

“What would I do without you?”

“Be bored to death,” he replied, tugging on my hair.

I crossed my eyes.

“I don’t like seeing you bummed, so cut it out. A week is long enough.”

If only he’d seen me right after my breakup. Plus, he’d already done who knows what to Brandon’s car in retaliation. “See? And Mandy used to say you didn’t care about anything.”

He frowned. “I forgot about her.”

“I just remember her telling me that she was going to kick my ass if I didn’t stop text messaging you.” Then I’d told her I’d been in Mason’s life before her and I’d be in it afterward, just to be a bitch.

He cracked up. “She hated your guts! I forgot about that!” He blew out a breath. “Most of my girlfriends—” for the record, he hadn’t had an official girlfriend in at least five years, “haven’t liked you, now that I think about it.”

Of course they hadn’t. Most of them had always thought there was more to our friendship than what there was. It wasn’t like I could blame them, but I always tried to be extra respectful and not pinch his butt cheeks out of anger when he was dating someone.

“Remember Teresa Martinez back in junior year? I broke up with her because she said you were annoying.”

I blinked, knowing exactly whom he was referring to. She’d been one of his girlfriends that hadn’t gotten on my nerves. That fake bitch. While I realized it was dumb to be offended over a comment someone had made ten years ago, I couldn’t help but get a little grumpy about it. “She said that to you?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t believe it. You’re a pain in the ass, not annoying.”

I snorted. “Well, she was a slut, I remember that.”

He elbowed me with a snicker. “I know. That’s why I dated her.”

Oh God.

Then he kept on going, as if I wanted to hear all the shitty things his past girlfriends had said about me. Which I didn’t. “You remember Crystal Hernandez? Senior year? She called you a bitch. I let her give me a blow job and never called her again.”

My hands went over my face as I repressed the urge to laugh. When I finally had myself under control, I cupped my cheeks and shook my head. “What a noble, noble gesture. Seriously. Thank you.”

Mason grinned. “Right?”

Dropping my hands, I nodded up at him. There were tears in my eyes, and I didn’t even bother blinking them away. “I wouldn’t trade you for a million dollars, Mase.”

His reply was to beam at me.

“But for ten million, I’d work out some kind of visitation schedule.”

---

It was the pain in my neck that woke me up.

There was also the fact that one of my legs was hot, my arm was numb, and I had a headache.

I’d barely opened an eye to figure out what the hell was going on when I realized I wasn’t in my bunk. The cushion beneath me was harder than it should have been and there was way too much light. What the hell?

I tried to think back on my last clear memory, and that was Mase and I on the couch watching infomercials and arguing over whether this bonding glue they were presenting would really work or not. After that I couldn’t remember anything. The only answer I had was that it didn’t take a genius to figure out that my head hurt from the entire bottle we’d polished off between the two of us.

Once I managed to pry another eyelid open, it was confirmed that I was still on the couch. My skull was using my inner bicep as a pillow and luckily I was facing the back of the cushion instead of outward where everyone could see my face while I was sleeping. It wasn’t until I tried to get to my knees that I realized why my leg was so hot. Mase was passed out halfway on top of me, half on his side. He was using my lower back as a pillow, and I think he might have been cupping a butt cheek.

I groaned as I started shaking one of Mason’s shoulders blindly, trying not to savor the weird taste in my mouth. “I need to get up,” I mumbled, shoving at him until he grumbled and squirmed around. As soon as he shifted, I rolled off the couch and just barely landed softly on my hands and knees before settling onto my butt. I groaned, vowing never to drink so much wine again. That was when I looked up.

Sitting on the opposite couch, staring straight at me with a bowl against his chest, was Sacha.

Of course it was.

I smiled weakly at him and got to my feet with a mumbled, “Morning.”

I looked away before Sacha replied back with a “Morning, Gaby,” as I bent over and shook Mason’s shoulder some more.

“Go back to your bunk, crackhead,” I told my lifelong friend.

Mase groaned and rolled onto his back, opening up one sleepy eye. He waved me off, and I figured I’d done my best. If he ended up with Sharpie on his face, it was his fault.

I staggered to bed, pulled the curtain across and went back to sleep.

---

“Gaby? Are you awake?”

Yeah, I was awake. No, I still didn’t really want to talk to him.

I’d been lying down in my bunk for the last hour, head aching, the curtain blocking everything and everyone out while I traded on and off between thinking and reading. I thought about my family that I’d just seen and how they loved me, about Eli who was my partner in crime for life, Laila, Mason and Gordo. I even thought about Brandon briefly. Mainly, I thought about Sacha, how I felt about him and how I needed to get over it. Or at least deal with my crush more effectively.

I’d gotten over a big breakup already and this wasn’t even a breakup though to a certain extent, it felt worse. Maybe because there hadn’t been a single chance of anything. Or maybe just because I was crazy. More than likely it was just me being crazy and dumb and a sore loser.

Regardless, I needed to get over it.

“Gaby?” the voice whispered again.

I glanced up like I could see through the materials separating Sacha’s bunk from mine and felt my lips purse together for a second. In that same moment, I wondered about what he’d want to talk about. I needed a few more minutes for my new mindset to really kick in, so I stayed quiet.

I’d overheard them talking about how we were stopping pretty soon to shower, and I wasn’t really in the mood to talk to anyone yet.

Get over it, Gaby. Deal with it. Quit being a little bitch.

“Best of the Best?” Sacha whispered once more.

I didn’t respond, but I did feel slightly bad.

Was I being an asshole? I’d had guy friends in the past who liked me, and I didn’t like in return for one reason or another. But had I been awkward and rude to them? Of course not. Had they been upset with me for not wanting to date them?

No. They hadn’t.

In hindsight, I realized that I was being more of a bitch than I needed to. I had gone out of my way to avoid Sacha. When he made some kind of indication that he wanted to talk to me, I’d do something so that he couldn’t. I knew I was being immature, but I was so disappointed in myself that I didn’t have the heart to want to talk to him.

That wasn’t his fault.

All of a sudden, the curtain to my bunk swung open and the next thing I knew, this gigantic body caused an eclipse before rolling onto my bed, closing the velvety material behind him.

And I knew it was a “him” even though my eyes hadn’t adjusted. I could recognize Eli’s scent in a landfill.

“What are you doing?” I whisper-hissed at him, his head exactly five inches away from mine. His body crowded mine into the back paneling so I was on my side, crammed against the wall.

“Are you awake?” he asked in a normal voice. I still couldn’t see his face clearly.

“I am now.” I whispered back, conscious that a certain singer might still be in his bunk, listening in.

He poked me in the forehead with his index finger. “Is your period over yet?”

Only he would think about asking me that. I’d swear Eli was the most desensitized man on the planet. There were times when I was younger that I think he seriously believed we were the same person in two different bodies. “Yes. Why?”

“I want to know if you’re done being in a shitty mood.”

At the mention of my shitty mood, I had a flashback of the scene I’d walked in on and my stomach revolted. I had no right to get so jealous but my brain and body didn’t see that point, apparently. I wasn’t going to tell him that Mase had told me he knew exactly what had been going on. If Eli hadn’t brought it up, I didn’t want to either.

“I think so,” I answered honestly, poking him in the forehead like he’d done to me. “I hope so.”

He made a humming noise in his throat. Neither one of us said anything for a long minute as we faced each other in my bunk, just barely fitting. We just stared until he broke the silence in a low voice. “You aren’t planning on going home, right?”

“No.” I scrunched up my nose despite the fact he more than likely couldn’t see me doing it. “Why would you think that?”

“Because you’re not happy.”

And there went a point for me feeling like an extra douche. I bopped his nose with my fingertip. “I’m fine, E. Swear. I’m not going anywhere.”

I could see the outline of him resting his head on his hand. “I haven’t told anybody anything about your boobs, you know.”

I hadn’t thought once he had. That had been my second condition when I joined the tour, especially after he’d opened his trap the last time I’d been with Ghost Orchid. “Don’t say stuff like that out loud. I’m already sure half these guys think we’re having some kind of incest thing going on; don’t make it worse.”

He let out a big laugh that had to have woken anyone still sleeping. “Fuck me, they do, don’t they? Mateo asked me a couple days ago if we really were related or if this was just some messed up lie we’d been telling everyone forever.”

“Like I’d put up with your crap if you weren’t my brother,” I snickered. “Ugly.”

“Bitch, you were blessed to be born alongside me.”

That had me groaning loud. “Oh God. Shut up.”

Eli just laughed that laugh that had been my favorite since we were kids. It wasn’t obnoxious or mean, it just… was. “We’re about to stop. Want me to braid your hair after?”

Like I was going to tell him no.

Then it hit me. How bad had I been that he was actually offering to do it? One more point against me.

“Thanks, loser.”

Right before he rolled out of the bunk with one final poke at my forehead, he said, “Your mom is a loser.”

Some things never got old: like my brother’s crap, and the fact that the sun would rise and shine regardless of what was going on in my life. Or not going on, in this case.

I was done being a mopey bitch. I mentally washed my hands of being this party pooper who had her feelings hurt because some hot guy had a maybe-sort-of-girlfriend. I didn’t have a chance. I’d never thought I had one. I was being a possessive sore loser.

It didn’t matter. I’d get over it, like I had everything else in the past.

I swear it was like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders once my inner serial killer went on vacation for the next three weeks. I waited until it sounded as if everyone had gotten off the bus for me to get out of my bunk, grab clothes and pay the restrooms a visit. I felt rejuvenated and more like myself than I had in what seemed like too long. Even my head stopped hurting, for the most part.

It must have been pretty apparent I was back to normal because Gordo slapped me on the back when I got on the bus after my shower. “You look like you’re feeling better.”

“I am.” I pinched him in the stomach as proof before continuing on.

I made my way to the bunk area so I could throw my bag on the floor. In the middle of doing so, someone nudged at my lower back. With a glance over my shoulder, I noticed the pale gray eyes first.

“Hey,” Sacha said, dropping his hand to his side.

“Hey,” I told him, straightening up and shutting the curtain on my bunk. I didn’t know what to say or even how to act now that I’d come to terms with the fact that I wasn’t just attracted to him physically, that he didn’t feel that way toward me, and that I finally wasn’t going to let the worst of my emotions dictate my actions.

Yeah. I could handle this. A lesbian could find herself having a crush on Sacha. There was nothing wrong with being attracted to him. Plus, it wasn’t like I was looking for a boyfriend either.

I smiled at him, tight, so tight it felt strained as I tried to ease the tension out of my shoulders and the fluttering, nervous muscles of my abdomen.

His hair was wet and there was pink to his cheeks as he looked me over. A backpack hung from one of his hands. “Are you mad at me?” he asked in a lowered voice out of the blue.

I felt a stab of guilt at how I’d blatantly avoided him, because that was exactly what I’d done. Then I thought about him and the redhead on the couch and that gross feeling in my stomach flooded my insides once more. Yeah, the guilt didn’t last as long as it should have, but I needed to be an adult and deal with this head-on. It wasn’t his fault I had a crush on him, and he’d never been anything but kind to me. In a way, it was like being prejudiced against him for simply being a great person. He couldn’t help being likable even if I didn’t know how to handle it.

Clearing my throat, I shook my head and kept my focus on his eyes, my features even. “No. Why would I be?” Did that sound as convincing as I hoped?

“You haven’t talked to me at all. Every time I look at you, you look away,” he stated so matter-of-factly I almost reeled.

And, I felt guilty all over again.

I dug deep for those lying skills I’d used so much as a kid to save Eli’s ass and gave Sacha the most honest, remorseful smile possible. “I’m sorry. Everything is fine. I’m not mad at you at all.”

Which was true, technically. I wasn’t mad at him. I was mad at myself.

“Are you sure? Because you don’t get mad very easily, and if I—”

Here he was, blaming himself. Good lord.

I’d never stood a chance, had I?

How could I not like Sacha? I wasn’t blind or deaf. He was unbelievably attractive, sweet and just plain goofy. Reminding myself why I liked him wasn’t helping the situation any.

Before he could carve a bigger chunk of attraction out of my soul, I shook my head. “You didn’t. We’re fine. I just wasn’t feeling well, and I was…” I hesitated for a split second before I figured “screw it.” Sacha said he had older sisters; it wasn’t like he didn’t know women had periods. “I was on my period.”

The fact he didn’t even blink at the p-word was impressive. All he did was nod before a small, unsure smile crossed his features. “Sure?”

I nodded.

His expression was only slightly wary. “I’m glad we’re okay, then.”

This stupid frog had crawled into my throat and all I could manage to do was nod.

Then he reached forward and tapped my elbow with his free hand, the corners of his mouth growing wider. “I’ve missed talking to you.”

Good gracious. I shook my head and in a slightly weird voice, said, “I missed talking to you too.”

“It’s been pretty boring without you,” Sacha added, the sentiment obvious by the creases at the corners of his eyes.

A small smile crossed my face, and I shrugged even as my insides went all wonky. I didn’t know why I felt so… hopeless, but I did. I wanted to absorb his words and take them to heart, but a larger part of me didn’t want that. What was the point? I filled a void as his friend. Keyword: friend.

As much as I wanted to be levelheaded about it and take what I could get, it wasn’t easy for me. My mom had always said that I took things to heart, that I felt too much. Once I got my mind set on something, if I couldn’t have it, then I didn’t want anything else to try and replace it.

Eli happened to yell my name from the living area right then, so I flashed Sacha a smile before making my way toward my twin. When I’d barely passed him, he grabbed ahold of my forearm to stop me.

“I really did miss talking to you.”

I nodded at him, not trusting the rusty, unsure words on the tip of my tongue. I needed to change the subject right then. I needed to try and be a better friend. “Let me know the next time you want to go for a run, okay?”

“You got it.”

Well, if there was one thing I knew how to be, it was someone’s friend. I could do it.

I could.