Page 81 of Don't Bang a Bandmate

It’s a complicated reunion. Christian was a mentor to Criminal Records in various ways. A charismatic frontman to Knox. A brilliant songwriter to Jonah. A talented guitarist to Addison. Even little Katrina, who would barely look people in the eye in the days following us liberating her from the Benton cult, held herself differently after meeting Christian.

As for me? The guy had little to teach me when it came to sticks, but he was a friend. A drinking buddy. Just a guy who understood the need for quiet reflection now and again.

Then, the drug problems kicked in.

Christian Myers personified the very essence of sex, drugs, and rock and roll stardom. He could have had anything or anyone, and he did. In excess.

It was sad to see him fall. It’s nice to see him stand back up again.

Still, I keep an eye on him the whole night; Logan’s silent warning keeping me on edge. I notice nothing out of the ordinary. He’s… Christian. The same Christian he always was — the sober version, anyway. Witty and fun. Full of good storiesand anecdotes. Always wanting everyone at the table to feel included, no matter how large the group is.

I’d almost forgotten how likable he was.

I’d completely forgotten how Jordan used to look at him.

At the end of the night, we all say our sluggish goodbyes to Christian in the hotel lobby. While I’m happy to see him clean and healthy, I’m also happy to see him go. Strange to say, but I’m eager to get back to work. Eager to focus on what’s important.

On the tour.

And on Jordan.

The faster Christian stops making her blush like that, the better.

With him long gone, we all stumble across the golden lobby and pile onto the elevator together. Knox begs to be taken up to the executive suite again, but he’s quickly overruled by Harmony’s not-so-subtle tug on his jacket. The other couples get the same naughty glimmer in their eyes, and they all disembark on the 30th floor.

“Goodnight, everybody,” Harmony says over her shoulder, her arms wrapped around Knox’s waist.

Addison chuckles, doing the same with Harvey. “I think you meangood morning,”she jokes.

We laugh. I wait for August and Chrissy to step off behind Jonah and Katrina, then I step out of the corner, trying to remember if my suite was on the right side of the hall or the left.

As I cross the threshold, I feel a tug on my sleeve and pause.

Jordan draws me back as she stealths forward to look out into the hall. Confirming the others are too tipsy to notice, she swipes her card to the executive suite.

I stand still, watching the doors close.

The moment they do, Jordan crashes into me. She kisses me hard on the lips. I stand steadily while her ankles sway, and I quickly plant my hands on her hips to keep her upright.

“Sorry,” she says, chuckling. “Forgot my pen.”

She kisses me again. This time, I kiss her back, unable to curb the rush of heat taking over me as the elevator ascends slowly toward the 40th floor. I give myself that long to enjoy it, to kiss her hard and deep, knowing I’ll stop as soon as the doors open.

When they open on the suite, I tell myself I won’t step off, but Jordan latches her hands onto my jacket and pulls me out with her. In a fit of giggles, she stumbles, and I keep an arm wrapped around her so she doesn’t fall.

“Whoops!” she says. “So dizzy.”

I turn my head to break the kiss. “You should lie down,” I say. “Get some sleep.”

“No,” she says, trying to unzip my pants.“Youshould lie down. And I’ll?—”

“Jordan,”I say, cradling her hands. “You’re drunk.”

“You’redrunk.”

“Notthatdrunk.”

“So, let’s do some shots!”

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