Page 55 of Don't Bang a Bandmate

He nods.

I give him a friendly kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight, Bronson,” I say. “Go have fun.”

He hovers in place for a moment, his eyes soft in thought. Then he takes a step back toward the door. “Goodnight, Jordan.”

I wave goodbye. As the door latches behind him, I roll my eyes and smile at the butterflies tickling my stomach.

Such a strange feeling.

I do my best to shake it off before climbing into bed. With lights out and my sleep mask on, I wrap myself in my blankets and hug a pillow to my chest, my heart thrumming wildly.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

I take a deep breath and count down before taking another one, hoping the long, purposeful breaths will calm my heart rate, but the pounding continues...

Bang. Bang. Bang.

A murmur of voices echo in my head. One deep and rough. The other high and feminine. Moaning and... groaning?

No.

Those voices aren’t in my head at all.

They’re through the wall.

I sit up in bed and grab my phone. Finding Chrissy’s number in my contacts, I hold the phone up to my ear and wait for her toanswer. Before she does, the banging behind me slows and the voices drop low.

“Hello!” Chrissy answers.

“Do you mind?” I ask.

“Do I mind what?”

I turn and knock on the wall behind me.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

“Oh, shit!” Chrissy cracks up. “Sorry, babe. We’ll keep it down.”

“Thank you.”

“See you in the morning.”

I hang up with a grunt, but I don’t set my phone down yet. For a moment, I sit and stare at it in my palm, my fingers buzzing for me to swipe over to Bronson’s number and... drop a pen.

But he’s probably half-way to Hannah’s by now.

I plug the phone back into its charger and go to sleep.

17

BRONSON

And suddenly, the usual Midwestern tour lull ain’t as lull-y anymore.

All of us go through our highs and dips at different times. Jonah’s dip usually hits about a month into the tour. Knox and Addison are fine until the last leg of it, while Katrina is her bright-eyed, bushy-tailed self at all times, apparently.

Me? I start to feel sluggish once we reach the flyover states. There’s nothing wrong with them, of course. I get giddy just thinking about Kansas City barbecue or Chicago style pizza. There’s just something about the place that makes me feeltired.

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