We grab Mexican food on the way back to the hotel. There's a sleek black bus parked behind the building. It's unmarked.

"It's not bad once you get used to it." Tom nods hello to a tall, burly man in a black polo shirt and black slacks. "Our head of security, Xander."

He introduces me, and Xander opens the doors for us.

"After you." Tom helps me onto the steps.

"Thanks." I climb into the mysterious vehicle. It's not quite as dark on the inside. It's nice, actually. Clean, well lit, huge.

There are two people sitting on a couch in the front. A leggy woman with dramatic features sits in the lap of a tall blue-eyed man. She's about my age. He's a few years older.

"Hey," he says. "You must be Willow. I'm Miles Webb." He points to himself. "Vocals, lyrics, sex appeal."

"I'm Meg Smart," she chimes in. "Do I get a snappy introduction?"

He squeezes her. "Meg Smart. Wit. Beauty. Medical services." Miles laughs. "Okay, I can admit that needs some work. How about—Wit. Beauty. Jurassic Park references?"

She attempts one. "Meg Smart. Future Doctor. If she can ever escape her boyfriend's immense sex appeal and actually crack open a book."

He grabs her and pulls her into an especially deep kiss. When they're done necking (it takes several minutes), we go through a round of handshakes, and they turn their attention back to the TV. They're playing a Star Wars video game. She's winning.

Tom gives me the grand tour of the bus. From front to back, it goes: TV area, kitchenette/table, bunk beds, and private bedroom. When the band isn't spending the night in separate hotel rooms, they take turns in the bedroom. Mostly it's for sex.

"Yes! I knew I'd get you." The woman squeals. "Miles... I still won, even if you're..."

"Mhmm." He presses his lips against her neck. His hands slide around her waist.

A moment later, they're making out like no one is watching. She pulls herself away with great effort.

"You're Drew's sister, right?" She waves to me.

"Yeah."

She looks up at Tom. "You angling for another black eye? You mess with my new friend, Willow, and I'll be the one to give it to you."

"Why you complain so much? Shit worked for you. Shit worked out for Kara," Tom says.

Meg nods reluctantly.

"You should accept that I'm a fucking genius," Tom says.

"Next time you meddle, can you skip the part where my heart is broken and I barely manage to find the energy to study for finals?" Meg asks.

"Where's the fun in that?" Tom teases.

Miles chuckles. He's the Sinful Serenade singer. His voice is just as sexy in person. I replay one of their more popular tracks in my head. It's breathy, tortured. He's taller than Tom. A little less built but certainly no slouch.

Gorgeous blue eyes.

Chiseled features.

He's anyone's definition of handsome.

I will my body to react, to want him and not Tom. Yes, he has a girlfriend, but it's only a test.

I stare at his strong, tattooed chest. He's sexy but my body is apathetic.

Meg looks at Tom curiously. "Hey. How come I haven't seen you with any girls lately?"

Tom's hand plops on my shoulder, and my God damn body floods with electricity. I swallow the sigh rising in my throat.

"This is a girl," Tom says.

Miles whispers something in Meg's ear. Her jaw drops. Her cheeks go red.

She looks at Tom. "You did not." She turns back to Miles. "Why would Tom get his cock pierced?"

"Babe, you should ask him that." He runs his hand through her hair. "Unless you're requesting—"

"Not if I have to go six weeks without hearing you come." Her cheeks turn red. "Oh, God. Sorry. I forgot you guys were there."

"Please," Tom says. "You two are louder than Pete. Where the fuck is he?"

Miles nods to the bedroom. "Sleeping off his hangover."

"How do you know?" Tom's voice is sharp.

"Talked to him. Something people do instead of trying to run each other's lives. You should try it sometime," Miles says. "The man is going batshit over that girl. He needs to get the break up over with and get to work on getting over her the fun way."

"That's his brother." Meg swats Miles playfully. "Is that what you'll do if I dump you?"

"Why? You have plans to dump me?" He repositions her, so she's straddling to him. "Better convince you to reconsider."

"Miles..."

"Mhmm." He's back at her neck, sucking on her skin with great concentration.

I clear my throat. It does nothing. Okay. They're way too into each other to care.

He pulls down his shirt and points to a tattoo on his chest.

She sighs with pleasure and drags her hands over his exposed skin. It's hard to tell from this angle, but it's entirely plausible that his hand is under her skirt.

Tom rolls his eyes. "Yes, you're in love and you can't keep your hands off each other. We've got the point."

Miles laughs. "God, I can't imagine the blue balls. How long has it been, Tom?"

"Three weeks."

Miles looks at his girlfriend. "He can't even masturbate for three more weeks."

"The free porn shows you two put on really help," Tom says.

"Aw, poor Tom likes watching us make out too much." She feigns pity.

"Yeah, you stop at making out..."

She blushes. "I thought you were asleep."

"Then why were you screaming?" Tom asks.

Meg blushes. "Sorry. I was trying to keep it down." She pushes herself off her boyfriend and makes eye contact with me. "Come on. If we wait until they're done with the pissing contest to eat we'll die of starvation."

* * *

I must be the band pet. Everyone takes their turn sitting with me, making conversation about work, school, or music. Drew stares intently at my new hairstyle but he keeps any commentary to himself.

"Tom give you a hard time or anything?" he asks.

Technically, yes. But that's not the question. "No, he's been great. He talked to Hazel about hiring me as her assistant."

Drew beams. "You're gonna stay?"

I nod. "Yeah."

Drew's still posture softens. "I'm glad you're here, Wil. If you need anything, let me know. Anything."

Okay. He's calm enough I can tease. "What if I need condoms?"

Drew throws me a come on look. He must be in a good mood. It's usually pretty easy to get a rise out of him.

"I hope that joke means you trust me," he says.

"Enough."

"Good. I've missed you. I'm not gonna fuck this up." He nods goodnight then joins Kara in one of the bunk beds.

Those things are tiny. The two of them barely fit.

I finish Bringing up Baby by myself. When I look up and turn my computer off, Meg and Miles are on their way to bed. They share a bunk for a while but eventually retire to separate spaces.

The giggles and mumbles of late night conversation turn to the soft breathing of sleep. The bus is quiet. Tom is on the couch, watching a movie with headphones. I guess the band's bassist, Pete, is still in the private room, sleeping or brooding or surreptitiously engaging in sexual activities.

That leaves me and Tom as good as alone. I try to stay busy color correcting portraits of my friend Cassandra. They're the kind of thing Hazel shoots but not nearly as good. I only manage to stay busy for half an hour before the couch beckons me.

I turn off my computer, put it with my things, and join Tom.

He's close. Really close. His shoulder presses against mine. The outside of his knee presses against mine. I can feel all the warmth of his body. I can hear his inhale and exhale.

"Here." He pulls an ear bud from one ear and hands it to me.

It's been ages since I've shared headphones with someone. It's sweet. Intimate.

The sounds of the film fills my ear. Soft rustling of the wind. A voice in a foreign language. The images on screen are bleak blue scenery. Snow and the empty sky.

The cable tugs. It's not meant for two people.

"This is Let The Right One In. Have you seen it?" He scoots closer, to give the headphones slack.

"No. What happened so far?"

"I'll restart it." He reaches over me. His hand brushes my stomach on its way to the remote.

"You don't have to do that." It's a waste, really. I won't be able to pay attention with Tom in such close proximity.

"It's no big deal." He restarts the film and settles into a spot on the couch next to me.

He moves closer, closer, until I'm practically in his lap.

I try to focus on the stark images of the opening credits. The movie is beautifully shot.

He pats his chest. "You can lay down. You must be tired."

"I'm not tired. Someone kept giving me caffeine."

"Blaming me for your lack of self-control? So tacky. I'm disappointed in you, Willow."

The screen flashes with a snow covered school. It looks cold. It looks cold but Tom's body is warm.

I clear my throat. "Where is your car?"

"Roadies take turns driving it. Gives them some time alone. You don't get many chances to hear yourself think on tour."

"Don't you get sick of that?"

"I'd put up with a lot worse for the chance to get on stage every other night."

"Plus all the money."

"Yeah." He laughs. "There's that."

"And the women."

"Don't need to be a rock star to get women."

"Doesn't seem to hurt you."

"It's too easy now. I miss the challenge." He turns me so I'm facing the TV. "You're gonna miss the good part."

I try to keep my eyes on the screen, but I fail. This—watching the light flicker on Tom's face—is the good part.

* * *

"What are you..." My eyes blink open. My surroundings come into focus slowly. Where's my bed? My Roman Holiday poster?

There's an arm under my ass.

"Now you wake up."

Tom. I'm in his arms, pressed against his chest. He's carrying me somewhere. To my bed. Only it's not my bed, it's a bunk on a tour bus, because in the last two days my life has turned upside down.

"You could have left me on the couch." I sling my arm around his neck for support.

"I could have done a lot of things." He leans, setting me on a bottom bunk. "This will be yours for a while. You can take my next turn with the private bedroom."

"Thanks, Tom." I slide onto the mattress. I'm tangled in a blanket but I feel cold.

"Take off your pants."

"What?" I must be hearing things.

"Your jeans. Shouldn't sleep in them."

I look back to Tom, but he's gone. I shift under the covers to strip to my tank top and panties.

The bunk has a small privacy curtain, like the bunk on a train. I go to pull mine closed, but Tom is back.

He sets a pair of boxers and a t-shirt on my bunk. They're his.

He kneels next to me. "There's an extra tooth brush in the bathroom."

I nod. "Thanks."

"Sweet dreams, kid."

"Yeah, you too."

Under the covers, I change into the temporary pajamas. They smell like him. It should bother me, smelling like a strange man I barely know, but it's utterly intoxicating.

I climb out of bed, brush my teeth and wash my face. He's back on the couch, stripped down to his boxers, watching something.

He looks lonely all by himself.

Maybe I'm projecting. Manic, bossy, know it all Tom can nail any single woman in a twenty mile radius. He revels in his manwhore status, makes a point of avoiding relationships.

But he's human. He must get lonely.

His eyes meet mine. He motions to my bunk go to sleep.

I nod of course, climb into my bunk, and pull the curtain closed.

But sleep isn't happening. My mind is racing. And my body—it's way too keyed up to sleep.

What was it he said? There are gonna be a lot of vibrators running out of battery tonight. That's the only way I'm going to relax enough for decent sleep.

I can't masturbate on the bus. Maybe in the private room. But not here.

I press my lids together and take deep breaths. They don't help. I'm flushed, needy.

But I'm not bold enough to do anything to ease the situation.