Four days later, after the argument with Layla, I find myself packing. She and I still haven't spoken. I hope that she comes home before I have to leave. I would hate to not be able to say goodbye, even if shit is a little tense between us.

Going through all of my drawers deciding what I will need for the next two months, I think about exactly how I ended up in this predicament. No choice but to go, praying summer flies.

Monday morning in class Professor Roberts asked if I could stay after so he could talk to me. I was on pins and needles the entire class, wondering what he could possibly have to say. I am an excellent student, always holding an A or above average. Using my free time valuably, doing school work or extra credit. As class is dismissed, I lingered behind.

Walking down the steps, I see Professor glance at me nervously. This was only raising my anxiety a notch further. As the last student leaves, he shuts the door behind them.

“Natalie. There was something I needed to discuss with you. Since this is the ending to your second year, it’s mandatory that you intern with an artist and at a recording studio. You were given many choices and looking through your transcripts I see that you didn't apply anywhere.” He says rambling.

This piqued my curiosity. He has had numerous occurrences where he had an opportunity to bring this to my attention. Why wait until now?

“I’m sorry Professor I wasn't aware it was mandatory that I intern this year, I thought it was for my third and fourth year. What does this mean for me then if I do not have a position interning?” I ask nervously.

“It would mean that you would fail this semester. Thus having to retake these courses in the fall. Knowing you wouldn't want to risk failing I could pull a few strings and set you up with a band. It’s only for two months, and you will be on tour with them. It would benefit you greatly Natalie.”

I huff, really left with no other option.

“I’ll do it but it’s only because I don’t have a choice. So who am I interning with?”

Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. Had I known that Steele’s Army or Ryan fucking Steele, whatever the hell his name is, was my only option I would have told Professor Roberts to shove it up his ass. I should have seen this coming. Remembering now that Layla mentioned they were offering an internship as part of the contest. I should have known. I also should have realized how the Professor was playing me, like a god damn violin.

“Don’t worry about who Miss Wright. Seize the opportunity. You need to do this, and it will be excellent for you. You'll be working side by side with some of the greats.” He’s trying to reassure me.

While handing me a piece of paper, he says, “I wrote down where the tour bus will be leaving from. Be there Friday at nine A.M. precisely. They will leave without you if you aren't there. Also, I suggest packing light, there’s only so much room.” With that, he grabbed his suitcase and left me with my mouth still agape.

How did this happen?

Back to reality, Layla still isn’t home. Instead of packing last night, I chose to lay in bed all night, reveling in the comfortableness of it, the security of the life I have now. Assisting a musician on tour has been my career goal for as long as I can remember. It’s also way out of my comfort zone; I enjoy my privacy, my showers, and my walks. On tour, my shower will be taken in a tiny compartment, barely any room to lift your arms to scrub your hair.

The only walks I will be taking is backstage, and my privacy will be nonexistent. My bed will be a bunk over another located in a niche in the wall. So I spent last night spoiling myself in what I had. Of course that also meant I had to wake up, and six am, so I could enjoy my shower one last time for the next two months. Then pack, then hopefully say goodbye to Layla’s and walk over to the Ritz.

I lay my suitcase on the bed. Opening my drawers just tossing in underwear, bras, t-shirts, jeans. Deciding I should have at least one professional outfit on hand, I take my plain black dress out of my closet and a pair of red wedges. Stuffing that in my suitcase as well, I go to the kitchen and grab three plastic gallon sized storage bags to put my bathroom necessities in. My toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, shampoo and conditioner, bath poof, body wash, and hairbrush. I zip my luggage bag, throw a pair of flip flops in the outer pocket , wiping my hair from my face, glancing around my room checking to see if I missed anything I might want.

In my purse, I already have my cellphone and charger. The two things I could not live without. Looking at my bed, I see my parents’ picture in a frame on my nightstand. I walk over to it pick it up, and remove the picture out of the frame. I’ll keep that in my bunk with me .I have to take a piece of them with me. I wheel my bag to the front door. As I take my cellphone out of my purse to call a cab. I see Layla walking through the front door. Glad to see her, I hang up just so I can have one uninterrupted moment to let her know what’s going on. I give her the short story. Telling her that I would rather spend the summer with her and how I have no choice doing this internship. Being the best friend that she is, she understands and offers to drive me to the hotel that the bus is leaving from just so we could have a few more minutes together.

To outsiders it might seem odd that we are so close. We don’t go around explaining how our friendship is so much more. Its sisterhood. She was there throughout my loss. It was her loss also. She remained strong for me. She carried me when I needed her it most through life and even though she put my feet on the ground; she still has my hand. She’s fought my demons with me, sometimes without my help. She has always supported me and has remained my closest friend throughout it all. I love her, and she is the only family that I have left.

On the way to the bus, I tell her to call me when she can and that I will send her many pictures and texts updating her throughout my day. It will be as if we are spending the summer together. She tells me that once I find out the exact tour schedule I should send it to her. Suggesting to meet up with me at a few of the shows, hoping we stay in one city more than a day and spend the day together if the itinerary allows.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” I squeal, causing Layla to slam on the brakes. I don’t have to say a word. She knows exactly why I'm freaking. The tour busses, two actually, are pulled right up to the curb of the sidewalk. Surrounding a gorgeous upscale hotel pushing the lock button on the door handle, I lock Layla and myself in the car.

“You are aware I have the keys Nat? Also I have the same buttons on my door handle as well.” She says smiling.

“Well I can tell you are happy about this. Did you plan this? I can’t believe this.” I say rolling my eyes.

“Nat, how would I have been able to arrange this, I don’t have that kind of power. Hell they kicked me out of their dressing room when I offered to help them.” She smacks her hand over her lips, realizing what she just let slip.

“What do you mean you offered to help them? Tell me how Layla, how?” I say now highly aggravated.

“I just told them your name I promise. That's all. Steele didn't even look impressed. He had no interest discussing you at all. So I doubt this was something that was planned. Professor Roberts probably pulled a few strings like he said. You can’t back out now Nat. You don’t want to fail this year, or do you?” She asks, already knowing the answer.

“I’ll text you the tour stops and pop your trunk please.” I say while unlocking the door and getting out.

“Nat, please don’t leave like this. Give me a hug and promise me you’re not mad at me.” She pleads.

I walk around to the trunk, grab my luggage, and then walk to the driver’s side window. Reaching my arm in through the open window to pull her into a half hug. “I love yah, I'm not mad and I will get call you as soon as I can.” With that, I walk away to my summer of torture.

Hightailing it away from Layla's car, ready to get this meet and greet over, wondering which bus is the roadies. As I walk around the side of the bus, there he is in all his cocky glory leaning against the bus, one foot behind him propped on the bus cigarette in hand looking deep in thought. He notices me, flicks his cigarette, and walks in my direction a grin playing upon his face.

“Why don’t you let me take your bag?” He asks; a little too late to start kissing my ass don’t you think, I say to myself.

“No thanks. I'm quite all right carrying it by myself.” I politely decline, even though polite is the last thing I want to be to him. As if he didn't hear me, he tries to grab my luggage away from me. “What part didn't you hear, the no thanks or the part where I said I am all right?” I ask, on my last nerves why he is still trying to pull the bag out of my hand; I pull it back as if we are playing tug-o-war with my belongings.

He chimes in “Let me just help you.” On top of everything with Layla, he adds in, and my day just keeps getting better.

“Your chivalry is unneeded.” As soon as I push the last word out, with as much grace as I can manage, the zipper breaks. At the same time, he finally let’s go. Ending with me falling flat on my ass with everything I packed littering the sidewalk surrounding me. I look up at him mortified. His grin is still in place but with a hint of mischievousness, almost as he planned for this to happen. And then I notice we’re not alone. What is it about this guy that brings out the worst in me? The entire band is now outside, along with what I surmise to be the roadies. Just staring. At me.

That's when I feel the almost uncontrollable tears threaten to break from the dam and fall. My eyes are glazing over in a clouded mist. Don’t let him do this to you. Just breathe, and you'll be fine. You can either let him know he affected you or act as nothing happened. I opt for the latter, using everything inside of me to keep the tears at bay.

Raising myself to my knees, all the while still ignoring Steele, who has made no move to help me, I start collecting my clothes and placing them back into my now broken suitcase.

As I start picking up the last remnants of my personal effects, a pair of muscular thighs join me, meeting his eyes he pulls out his hand and introduces himself.

“Liam," he says.

And that was enough. Enough for me to allow this stranger to help me. When we are done, he grabs my bag carefully holding the door of it shut to his side with one hand and yanks me up by my forearm with the other.

“You’re rooming in our bus.” He informs me.

Outraged. “Like hell I am, I'm not going anywhere near that asshole!” I yell.

“Calm down Princess. You'll be fine. Trust me. You will be much safer rooming with us.” He says in a soft soothing tone.

“Safer? Safer how? Obviously, this man has it out for me. That's why I am here in the first place.” I argue. I wonder how he conned Professor Roberts into forcing me to go along with the horrible idea.

“He doesn’t have it out for you, and he didn’t plan for you to be our intern, hell he didn’t plan for us to have any intern. But if you want to fight it fine, I’ll let you have a say. You can room with five self-controlled men, your own bed, some semblance of privacy and you can even have a say in the grocery lists or you can room on a bus filled with ten other guys, who are most certainly slobs, and who will try not to let you have any privacy at all. Also, they eat pizza almost every night.”

I'm pretty sure he was just trying to sell himself to me, but I could also see the sincerity in his eyes. “I’ll accept, under two conditions and I will not budge on it.” I refuse to be taken advantage of! If Steele arranged this then he can pay. “I want this to be a paid internship. At least four hundred dollars a week and when we stay at a hotel I want my own room.” I would compromise if he put up a fight on the pay. Whatever money I make I'm going to donate, so they might as well donate a small sum.

“Done.” Liam says, without hesitation.

“Lead the way...”

He walks me over to the bigger of the two busses. It’s about forty-five feet long with their bands name Steele’s Army plastered all over it. Liam starts explaining how the first show of the tour is in Boston. Not understanding why we were all here today getting on the bus when their first show was here in Boston. Couldn’t they have waited to board the tour bus until tomorrow? I could have prolonged getting on this godforsaken bus with that selfish prick.

Walking onto the bus, he points out where the refrigerator and cupboards are, how there are certain foods I shouldn't eat, that every member of the band has one particular item they get just for themselves. Liam’s’ being peanut butter Oreos. Past the kitchen area, is the living room. On the left side is the couch it could seat up to six people, and a table on the right. An LCD television is placed on to the wall, kiddie cornered so wherever you are sitting you would have a view. I also notice shelving with gaming stations on it. I guess this is what they do for fun. And a little bit further in are beds, six to be exact.

Apparently, they like to have their things already set up so when the show is done, and the meet and greets are finished they can hop back on the bus take showers and pass out. Then on to the next stop, it’s also kind of like pre-gaming for their first show, its part of their tradition he tells me. Before they go on stage every night, they sit down on the couch aligned against the wall and make up their set list. Unlike other artists, they never pre-plan what songs they will be performing that night until right before the show. They always change it, never repeating the same songs. I'm actually impressed; it’s almost unheard of. I point out sound check. Why not choose those songs then? Liam said they always do the same warm up songs at sound check.

Three on each side. Enough to fit one body. A ladder going up to the very top bed. All equipped with a mini curtain you could slide closed. Then the bathroom, he opened the door just enough for me to tell he and I would never fit unless we wanted our bodies to be contoured to one another. Liam walks me through a door straight to the back of the bus and tells me it is the main bedroom. It’s more or less used for storage. Storing every-one's clothes or extra food. There’s an overturned mattress against the wall, he says that if by chance if anyone had a visitor they could use it.

He shows me to a closet that we all will share, and told me I could hang my clothes in there, as well. Also, a large dresser that he made room for me in so I could hide my unmentionables’.

It’s actually pretty nice. Better than I had hoped for. If this is what the bands bus looks like, I couldn't imagine what the roadies’ looks like. Liam leaves me to myself in the big back bedroom. I start unpacking, hanging my clothes, putting my bras and panties away in the dresser, then grabbing my zip lock bags and stuffing them in the drawer too. I doubt there is any room in the bathroom for my shampoo let alone my body. When all unpacked I walk back out into the living area, I see Liam sitting at the table with Steele and because he is the only one who has introduced himself, besides the giant asshole who is currently talking to him, I decide I’ll ask him what bunk is mine.

Stepping over to Liam, who is in a whispered conversation with Steele. By the look of his brooding face, I'm betting Gage is reprimanding him about our scuffle outside. Interrupting. “Excuse me, I just want to stay out of everyone's way so could you mind telling me what bed is mine?”

Liam turns his head to mine; his lips locked into a smile. Stop staring at his gorgeous lips Natalie, get a hold on yourself. “Sure, you’re right below Steele. Steele why don’t you show Princess here where her bed is.” And here I presumed that Liam was on my side.

I'm really hoping the next two months I won’t have to sleep beneath this annoying man. Maybe I can befriend one of the other guys, and they'll swap beds with me.

Steele stands up and just starts walking back to the bunk area. He points to the left, “I’m the top, and you’re the middle. Also, hate snoring, so if you snore keep it down or buy some breathe rite strips.” Not letting me retort he just walks away.

“Asshole” I mutter.

Climbing up the ladder, I slide into my bed and close the green curtain. I look to my right side, and there is a small window also equipped with a green curtain.

I slide the curtain open and take a look outside. It’s facing the sidewalk of the hotel where I can see a few roadies still loading their luggage. I also see Steele. He’s talking to one of the other band members I have yet to meet.

He truly is breathtaking. Observing his profile, I can make out his features better in the daylight. He has his dark hair pulled back away from his face held together by a rubber band at the nape of his neck. A firm hard jaw with a days’ worth of growth in place. He’s wearing a dark blue short sleeve shirt that is showing off his black inked tattoos. His nose is straight. Unusual because from the look in his eyes earlier, I would swear this man was keen on violence. Just from his arguing personality, I would expect that someone would have knocked him a good one and broken his nose in the past.

But nope there it sits upon his handsomely rugged face. Naturally, he feels eyes scrutinizing, and we lock. Eyes knowing; the left corner of his lip pulls up. Damn it. This man’s ego it way to big. I bet he assumes I find him irresistibly attractive. That I want him. This I can play. No one has ever tempted me, and I am comfortable it is remaining that way. If a fortune five-hundred CEO cannot bring me to my knees. Then a rock-star has no chance to tempt me.