Page 78 of Four More The Merrier

"Jesus Christ." I slide down the elevator wall, not caring how undignified I look. The scary part isn't that they suggested it. The scary part is that some deep, hidden part of me wants to say yes. To all of them.

The elevator stops. Wrong floor. A couple steps in, takes one look at me sitting on the floor, and decides to wait for the next one.

"Yeah," I call after them as the doors close. "I wouldn't get in with me either. I'm clearly losing my mind."

I stumble into the hotel room, dropping my bag by the door. The silence hits me like a physical force after weeks of constant noise - Jarron's morning grumbling, Lyle's drumming on every surface, Austen's guitar strumming, Beau's deep laugh.

The bed catches me as I fall face-first into the crisp white comforter. "This is insane," I mumble into the fabric. "Completely batshit crazy."

My phone buzzes again. And again. The messages blur together as I scroll through them.

The quiet presses in. No fighting over the remote. No smell of Beau's coffee. No sound of Lyle's terrible jokes making everyone groan. No Jarron hogging the bathroom. No Austen stealing my cereal.

"Fuck." I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling. "This could either be the best thing ever or completely destroy everything."

The tour. The band. My career. Their careers. Our friendships. All of it hanging by a thread because we couldn't keep our hands off each other.

But god, the way Beau looks at me like I'm something precious. How Lyle makes me laugh until I can't breathe. Jarron's intensity when he wants something. Austen's quiet understanding.

My fingers hover over the phone. The group chat blinks up at me, waiting. If this goes wrong, I'll be that girl. The one who broke up the band. The wannabe singer who couldn't hack it.

But if it goes right...

"Screw it." I type quickly before I can change my mind. "Room 332."

I hit send and toss the phone aside, heart pounding. After that disaster on stage tonight, this might be the end of my career anyway. Might as well go out with a bang.

Or four.

I bracemy hands against the cool marble of the bathroom counter, staring at my reflection. The black lace barely covers anything, leaving little to the imagination. My hands shake as I adjust the straps.

The hotel room door clicks. Footsteps - four distinct sets.

"Quinn?" Beau's deep voice carries through the door.

"Maybe she changed her mind," Lyle says softly.

"In here," I call out, my voice surprisingly steady despite my racing heart.

"Should we—" Austen starts.

"Shut up," Jarron cuts him off.

I take one last deep breath, smooth my hair, and reach for the door handle. The bathroom light spills into the dimly lit room asI step out. Four pairs of eyes lock onto me, and the air seems to vanish from the room.

Beau's hat hits the floor with a soft thud. Lyle's mouth drops open. Austen runs his hands through his hair - that nervous tell of his. And Jarron... Jarron just smirks, but his eyes are dark with something that makes my skin tingle.

"Well," I manage, finding my voice. "You wanted to talk?"

"Talk," Austen repeats, like he's forgotten what words mean.

"That's..." Beau swallows hard. "That's not exactly what I had in mind for talking."

Lyle takes a step forward, then stops, looking to the others. "How exactly is this going to?—"

"I stopped thinking so much," I say, surprising myself with my boldness.

"This is your shot to prove that this might work, or this will be a ginormous fucking disaster." I stand there with my hands out, feeling like I'm about to jump off a cliff. "So you four lead, I'll follow."

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