Page 58 of Creed

Our eyes hold for another moment, the tension between us easing significantly when he smiles at me. It’s not the seductive smile I’ve seen, or the carefully practiced one he gives his fans or interviewers. It’s his smile. The one I’ve seen so many times as a child. Not many people get to see the real Creed St. James, but I do.

I release the towel with one hand to run my fingers through my hair, mussing the strands that had been slicked back.

“So,” I switch subjects, hoping to lighten the mood a bit. “You wanted to talk? How was the emergency meeting? Was it, indeed, emergent?”

Riley huffs under his breath and Creed nods his head. “It was, actually.” He rubs his hand back and forth over the stubble now adorning his sharp jawline. “You know the band As We Stand?” I nod. “Turns out, their lead singer, Jake, underwent surgery to have vocal fold polyps removed recently.”

My eyes widen in shock. “Oh, shit.” My hand subconsciously raises to my throat, rubbing at a phantom pain that resurfaces every now and then. I had the same surgery when I was just a kid and the recovery period was hell. Only difference is that Jake can more than afford the therapy to get his voice back to functioning levels for him to continue singing. I did not.

“My thoughts exactly.” Creed says, his eyes falling to my hand still sitting at my throat. I don’t miss the way he winces, no doubt thinking back to my surgery and how rough that time was in our lives. I drop it to grip the towel again and he clears his throat, continuing. “He’ll be out for a few months with therapy so he had his band manager contact ours to ask us to tour in their place. It’s too late to cancel the venues and they don’t want to postpone it, and they want their fans to still have a concert experience.”

“Oh, wow. That… really sucks for Jake and As We Stand, but I suppose that’s awesome for you guys, right? When does the tour start?” I ask cheerfully, but it feels like there’s a weight in the pit of my stomach and my heart sinks at the thought of Creed leaving for several months. I know I need to get back to reality, back to my job. Creed and Riley have their own lives, and I refuse to be a hindrance to them or risk bad publicity from being seen with a low-class exotic dancer from a seedy nightclub.

“Well,” Creed starts, but he sounds hesitant. Nervous. Fuck. “That’s the other thing we wanted to talk to you about, Stardust.”

“We would need to leave Friday.” Riley says softly, leaning forward, his sweet auburn curls falling over his brow, and rests his elbows on his knees, his clasped hands hanging loosely between his legs. I take brief notice that they’ve both ditched the deliciously distracting sweats and joggers and changed into casual clothes. Their style in clothing is pretty similar. Both are wearing tight black jeans, with a pair of lace-up vans, but Riley is wearing a vintage style Cardinals baseball raglan tee, and Creed is wearing an oversized Falling In Reverse tee.

I don’t have time to think about the fact that I’m still sitting here in front of these two insanely attractive men, in nothing but a thong, a soaking wet t-shirt and a towel because what Riley just said registers and starts ringing bells throughout my brain. “Wait, this Friday?”

“Yeah, their tour typically begins right around the time that ours ends. Our tour schedules have lined up that way for a few years now.”

“My coworker, Coco, was just telling me how your European tour just wrapped up.”

“Correct,” Riley says, “Our last show was in Sydney last Friday and our plane touched down last night.”

A heaviness weighs down in my stomach, flopping with unease. “Today’s Sunday. You just got back so that gives you, what, five and a half days to prepare? Is that something you’re all up to doing? Doesn’t seem like you gave yourself enough time to rest and recoup after exhausting yourselves with your overseas tour.”

Creed and Riley share a look and nod before Creed smiles softly, his ice blue gaze roaming over the pool as he speaks, “We discussed it with the band, and we’re all in. Jake is actually a good friend of mine, and this would be helping him immensely while he heals. He even gave us permission to do some covers of their band’s top songs, so their fans still get a taste of the music they paid money to hear.”

The sinking feeling turns to dread because they are leaving. I roll my lips together, thinking of what to say next that won’t give away just how much I don’t want Creed to leave after finally seeing him after all this time apart. “How long will this tour last? When will you be back?” I immediately cringe at the desperation lacing the question.

Good one, Collins. Not obvious at all.

Riley widens his eyes at Creed, nodding his head toward me, encouraging him to speak. When Creed just sits there, fidgeting with his fingers, and its suspicious as fuck. Their little exchange has me narrowing my eyes at them. Whatever they’re silently communicating has me skeptical of whatever is going to come out of one of their mouths next.

They seem to be duking it out mentally because neither speaks for a long moment and when it becomes too awkward for me, I finally speak up. “What?”

“Just fucking tell her, Creed. Quit torturing the sweet girl.”

I fight really fucking hard to not blush at Riley calling me sweet girl but I fail miserably because Riley blushes at my reaction, his freckles popping against the pink of his cheeks that most likely match my own.

Creed looks at me, and my belly erupts with butterflies when his bright blue eyes meet mine. I mean, to be honest, it happens every time he looks at me, but especially now, after our kiss last night. That man can friend-zone me all he wants, but it doesn’t hide the fact that he?—

“We want you to come on tour with us.”

I let his words soak in for a moment before I bark out a laugh. “I’m sorry, you want me to go with you? On… tour?”

“Yes, we do.” He emphasizes, gesturing between himself and Riley.

By the serious expression on his face, I can tell he’s not joking about it, either, but I don’t quite believe it. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.” They answer at the same time.

I just stare at them, my lips parted in shock. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, based on Creed’s behavior since last night, but shit, I’m fucking bewildered.

Creed—and Riley—want me to pick up everything and just go with them? Of course the lovesick part of my brain is screaming at me to say yes, to go with them so that I can spend more time with them. I’ve missed Creed so fucking much over the last ten years, that finally being around him, being able to see him with my own eyes, to touch him, and to feel that he’s real, and that he never forgot about me are all reasons why I want to say yes.

But then Tank and his unending debt shove to the forefront of my thoughts and it’s like a gut punch. Tank is a bastard, and a dirty businessman. I know firsthand how he conducts business and I know that obeying the law isn’t part of his business model. Not only do I not have a choice but to show up, but I don’t want anything to happen to Creed, or Riley, or any members of his band by sending his men to retaliate for my absence. I would never forgive myself if they got hurt because of me.

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