Page 94 of Creed

I look over to see that Bear is sitting quietly, looking at something on his phone that’s got him frowning suddenly. He’s usually a pretty serious and stoic guy, but this look is actually tugging the corners of his lips down. All the humor of his demeanor earlier has evaporated. My brow furrows when I see the grip he has on his phone tighten to the point of his knuckles whitening.

I open my mouth to ask if he’s okay, hating that something is bothering him, but the entire bench shifts as Tony plops down hard with a loud, drunken whoop. “You are the fuckin’ best, man,” he points his beer at the DJ, his words slurring. Jesus, he had to have been drinking on the bus to be this intoxicated already. “I’m coming back for round two after I finish this beer, yeah?” he calls out. The DJ nods noncommittally as he plays some quieter music in the background.

It's just us in here, as Steve’s booked out the entire place.

Tony presses into me, his stale breath fanning across my face. “You guys order already—” he pauses and I finally look at him to see he’s staring past me. Right at Collins. His eyes are raking over anywhere she’s not covered by the table and it makes me uncomfortable for her.

I instinctively lean forward to block her from his view and try to strike up conversation with him, though it’s painful. “We ordered a few of the sampler platters while you were..ah..singing.”

“Right on,” he nods, trying to look round me again. “Who’s the chick? I saw her on your bus earlier. She a tagalong?”

A tagalong unfortunately isn’t the name of the delicious cookie anymore. It’s the name Tony gave to women—or groupies, specifically—who were invited to stay with one of the bandmates for a length of the tour. He was the only one who took part in this escapade that he started, but it quickly got shut down by Creed when he caught Tony one night years ago crowding one of the girl’s personal space, trying to kiss her and touch her while she was too intoxicated to tell him no.

“She’s not a tagalong, Tony.” I say bluntly, wishing he’d take another shot and just pass out already. “She’s… family.” And she is, in a way.

“So she’s fair game?”

“NO,” Creed and I snap at the same time.

Tony’s eyes flare with curiosity as they ping back and forth between me, Creed, and Collins. His eyes narrow as he takes another swig of his beer. “Riley just said she’s family. So if she’s not yours, then she’s fair game.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you talk too fucking much, Ritz?” That was Bear who finally looked up from his phone. “Family is more than blood. That’s what we’re supposed to be, so if a bandmate says someone is off limits, then she’s off-fucking-limits, right?” He chastises, raising a condescending eyebrow at the loudmouth next to me.

Tony just slumps down in his seat like a pouty child. “Whatever man.”

“For the record,” I say, leaning over, not wanting Tony to stew and cause a scene later, “She does belong to Creed. They’re together and he is extremely protective of her so keep your fucking thoughts to yourself.”

“Fuck off, you peace-keeping hippie.” Tony grumbles and stumbles out of the booth and over to the bar, taking a seat there.

Not sure that his comment about calling me a peace-keeping hippie was necessary but I don’t give a shit. I do want to keep the peace. We don’t need to give the press any ammunition. Something Lachlan had warned us about. Having Collins’ face in the tabloids could be detrimental if the information on her whereabouts got back to her stalker. If he’s lost track of her, we don’t want her to be found.

After an hour of sitting and chatting and stuffing our faces, Creed disappears to go get her last gift from the bus and she slides over to me, nudging my shoulder with hers. I force myself to ignore the heat from her body and the amazing way she smells like candy so sweet that I want to bury my face in her neck to see if she tastes just as sweet.

“Do you sing?” She asks while sipping her virgin strawberry daiquiri.

“What?” I ask, completely distracted by her.

She giggles into her straw and sips again. “I asked if you could sing, too? Or is it just drums for you?”

“Oh,” I rub at the back of my neck, “I just like to stick to drums. I mean, I sing, but I’m not anywhere near Creed’s level.”

She turns her body to face me and I’m captivated by her jade-green eyes. She studies me for a second before setting her drink down and scoots out of the booth, shoving me out first.

“What are you doing, Snow?” I say, trying to catch my footing but now she’s in front of me, yanking me along with a huge smile on her face. Her hair is now pulled up into a messy bun-type thing with longer tendrils hanging down around her face. She’s fucking adorable. We stop in front of the Karaoke DJ and it’s become very clear what she wants.

The girl is challenging me like she did at the mall. I back up a step. “Oh, no. Nope. I don’t sing, Snow.”

“Come on,” She pleads, folding her hands under her chin and looking at me with doe eyes.

“That… that is unfair.” I gesture to her face, laughing softly.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She feigns innocence, batting her lashes. This girl.

“Did you want to sing, or?” The DJ asks through our banter.

“No,”

“Yes,” –we answer at the same time.

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