Page 67 of Four More The Merrier

"Yeah?" Jarron interrupts, crossing his arms. "What's your biggest venue? Starbucks or Dunkin'?"

Derek shifts uncomfortably. "Look, I'm just here to visit Quinn-"

"Right," Lyle mutters, unusually cold. "Just happened to show up mid-tour."

"Guys," I snap. "What is wrong with you?"

Beau at least has the decency to look embarrassed, but the others continue their interrogation.

"How exactly did you get backstage access?" Austen asks, his voice sharp.

"He's been on the list from the beginning, because he's my friend."

"Friend?" Jarron scoffs. "Is that what they're calling it now?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing." Jarron stands abruptly. "Just wondering how many other 'friends' are going to show up on our tour."

"Jar-" I reach for his arm but he jerks away.

"I need some air." He storms out, slamming the bus door behind him.

The silence that follows is deafening. Derek clears his throat. "Maybe I should go."

"Maybe you should," Austen agrees coldly.

I watch helplessly as Derek makes a hasty exit, then round on the remaining band members. "What the hell was that about?"

None of them will meet my eyes.

I chase after Derek into the parking lot, my boots clicking against the asphalt. "Derek, wait! I'm so sorry about that. They're not usually such... jerks."

He turns, that familiar crooked smile playing at his lips. "Quinn, don't apologize. I've been in enough bands to recognize territorial behavior when I see it."

"Territorial? What are you talking about?"

Derek lets out a low whistle. "You really don't see it, do you? The way they look at you? The way they practically bristled when I hugged you?"

"They're just... protective. We've gotten close on tour, that's all." My cheeks flush as memories of shared kisses and intimate moments flash through my mind.

"Close?" Derek raises an eyebrow. "From where I'm standing, you've got three men head over heels for you. The bassist who looks at you like you hung the moon, the drummer who can't take his eyes off you during performances, and don't even get me started on your lead singer's death glares."

"That's not..." I trail off, the pieces suddenly clicking into place. The competing invitations. The tension. The way they've been acting around each other lately.

"Trust me," Derek says, adjusting his guitar case strap. "I know what it looks like when musicians are fighting over a girl. Just... be careful, okay? Hearts break harder on the road."

He gives me a quick hug and heads toward his car, leaving me standing alone in the cold parking lot, my mind reeling with the implications of his words.

32

QUINN

Ipace backstage, checking my phone for the hundredth time. No messages, no calls, nothing from Jarron since his dramatic exit last night.

"Still no word?" Lyle adjusts his drum kit, concern etched across his features.

"Radio silence." I sink into a nearby chair, my stomach churning. "We can't do the New Year's medley without him."

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