Page 8 of Bonding the Band

“Not good enough. Pack up whatever you need from the bus. We’ll be heading to the airport in an hour.”

I clambered into the bus and went straight for the bedroom, falling face-first onto the sheets. Lilac and…rose? But not regular rose. It was lighter. I huffed in the scent and let out a squawk when Arlo landed on top of me.

“That doesnotlook like packing.”

“Fuck off. I’m gathering my strength.”

The bus was a hive of activity, and I squirmed away from Arlo, rolling straight off the bed and landing with a thump. There was a little white sock on the floor by my head. That definitely didn’t fit any of us. The beta had probably left it, but when I moved it, I caught a hint of that floral scent again and brought it to my nose.

“Jesus.” Phineas laughed. “Did you develop a foot fetish overnight?”

I threw the sock back to the floor. “No.”

Can’t fucking do anything in peace on this goddamn bus.Okay, maybe sniffing abandoned socks was a little weird, but in my defense, it was a really good-smelling sock.

I packed up my things while my head throbbed and the caffeine worked its way through my system. I glanced over at Phin. “You gonna make it without all your devil’s lettuce?”

He laughed. “Fucking dork. It’s legal in Thailand now. I can survive for a while.”

Of course he would know that. None of the shit I did was legal anywhere. Beckett and Arlo only drank and smoked occasionally with Phin. Besides that, they were pretty goody-two-shoes about intoxicants, leaving me to fulfill the rock star stereotype all by myself.

It was a heavy burden to carry, but someone had to do it.

Chapter 4

Meadow

May, Seattle

The best place to buy chocolate wasn’t on campus.

It was a shame, because students deserved good chocolate. If I had a craving for anything outside of the bare essentials, then I had to traipse twenty minutes away to the big brand grocery store. Thankfully, it was open twenty-four hours to accommodate people who went goblin shopping like I did.

My body had decided it hated me. There was no other reason for me to be making the trek to get yet another weird food combo Ineededat one in the morning.

Was it exactly safe to be walking off campus in the middle of a busy city so late at night? No. But if I didn’t get some high-quality chocolate and salty potato chips—specifically crinkle cut—so I could slather it all in strawberry syrup, I was going to lose my mind. I could have ordered the food, but it seemed almost wasteful for two items, and I would need more than chips and sauce to get me through the next few days. Besides, most of the time, my brain didn’t know what it wanted until I saw it, and that didn’t really work well with ordering.

My cravings had been out of control lately. There had been a bug going around campus, and I had caught it in a bad way—head stuck in the toilet every day for the last four weeks. All of the dining hall food had been impossible to keep down, and if cravings were the only thing that actually stayed in my stomach, I was going to indulge them to hell and back.

All my friends had gotten over the bug in a few days, but it was lingering for me. I chalked up the weird cravings to the severe lack of nutrients from being sick constantly, like how I’d eaten a bucket of ice chips when I’d had low iron as a kid.

Bright fluorescent lights hummed as I wandered through the aisles, taking in the sheer number of sugary treats on offer. Without thinking about it, I grabbed everything that looked good, and in no time, my basket was full of gummy worms, Pixy Stix, chocolate—three different kinds—and a variety of potato chips. I briefly entertained the produce section, but my stomach turned just looking at the healthier options.

I quietly thanked every god I could think of that the treats were nowhere near the seafood department, because I couldnothandle that right now. No one wanted to clean up after me next to the lobster tank.

Reaching for the spicy Doritos, I winced. The movement pushed my breasts against my bra. They had been unusually sore as well, so I had started avoiding bras whenever possible, but didn’t want to deal with weirdos staring at my nips, so I’d suffered putting one on for this venture.

Snacks in hand, I headed toward the checkouts, making a detour through the bath and body section to restock my favorite lotion.

A blue box caught my eye as I passed. Stopping, I took a second to look at it.

Pregnancy tests.

I had been sick for a while.

I was craving odd foods—though that could be because I was a weirdo.

Andmy boobs hurt.

---