Page 73 of Don't Bang a Bandmate

I raise my head to look at him, curious.

“You’re more relaxed,” he says. “Not as tense and whatnot.”

“Think the others have noticed, too?” I ask.

“Probably,” he says. “But I wouldn’t worry about that.”

“No?”

“Nah.” He runs a finger down my arm and smiles. “You know, I kinda like laid back Jordan.”

My stomach quivers. “You do?”

“She’s cool. She’s chill.” He nods. “Hard to believe she manages the best damn rock band in the world.”

I grunt, reminded of my to-do list. “Right…”

Bronson pulls me close again, guiding my head down. “Rest,” he says.

I push against it. “Aren’t we gonna?—”

“Rest.”

With a smile, I obey. I settle the full weight of myself on him, letting the caress of warm, post-orgasm shivers to dance along my limbs.

In the moments before I fall asleep, I whisper, “Thank you, Bronson.”

I don’t hear a reply, but I feel a gentle kiss on my head.

22

BRONSON

And the tour goes on.

After a sold out show and a night of Canadian star bussing, we check out of the hotel and pile onto the bus to make our way to the next city. The next hotel. The next sold out show.

There’s a noticeable shift in the air today, though.

Today, we’re heading to New York City.

It’s one of our favorite cities for many reasons. One being... it’s New York fucking City. Great food. Awesome bars. Incredible people on every street corner. Some of the best fans in the world are here, and they’ve all got tickets to our upcoming show.

I tap my drumsticks against my legs, keeping time as Knox and Jonah strum their guitars. Jonah got hit with a wave of inspiration overnight and he hopped on the bus with the start of a brand new song this morning.

As the songwriters among us hammer that out, I let the memories of last night wash over me.

Jordan. My sweet Jordan.

So fucking sweet.

She fell asleep in my arms, and I fell in hers, too. It’s not something I’m known for, truthfully. Not that I’m a pump anddump kind of guy. I’ll provide the appropriate aftercare when necessary. But last night was different. Itfeltdifferent.

But it wasn’t different at all, was it?

It’s just sex.

As the Manhattan skyline comes into view, the others stash away their guitars and beeline for the windows. The air prickles with excitement, the city growing bigger and bigger as we ride closer and closer. Harvey practically bounces in his seat, having never been there before at all.

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