Page 32 of Aria

Or maybe it was the buzz from the show we’d just performed.

Or… maybe I was lonely, and Chelsie was looking rather enticing in her miniskirt and knee-high, leather boots.

Nope. Bad maybe.

Chelsie chuckled, shooting me a questioning glance. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I think I’ll be okay. We’re at the Ritz-Carlton.”

The elevator doors opened. My jaw tensed as I tore my gaze away from the sheen of her skin that was still glistening from the freshly fallen rain. Clearing my throat, I stepped into the elevator with her. “Can’t be too careful these days. Besides, I promised Devon I’d get you to your room in one piece. Can’t have any pieces left behind.”

Chelsie crinkled her nose, her look furling into a frown. “Are you drunk?”

“Not yet, but the night is young.” A thought came over me—a bad one, probably, but a thought, nonetheless. I turned to Chelsie. “Hey, I do have a fridge full of beer in my room. Care to join me?”

“Well,now…” she quipped with a smile. After a moment of consideration flickered by, Chelsie shrugged her shoulders. “Actually, I wouldn’t mind the company. As much as I love coming to these shows, I can’t deny getting a little homesick.”

Homesick.Chelsie had no idea how homesick I felt every time I stepped onto an airplane or drove off in a tour bus. A sigh escaped me as we rode up the elevator in silence. Devon was lucky to have Chelsie in his life—the bastard. I yearned for that connection, that bond.

I’d had it once. With Ruby.

But she’d broken my goddamn heart.

“Is this one your room?”

Chelsie’s voice pierced through my hopeless daydreams, and I realized we were already standing in front of my hotel room.

“Uh, yeah. This is the one.” I scrambled for the room key, stuffing my hands into every pocket before sifting through my wallet, still coming up empty. “Shit. Tad or Miles must have it,” I groaned. “I’ll run down to the front desk.”

Chelsie shook her head. “Don’t bother. We can hang out in my room. Devon won’t be back for a few hours, and I want to change out of these wet clothes, anyway.”

A mental image of Chelsie changing out of her wet clothes popped into my mind, and I had to wonder if this was a good idea…

“Yeah, okay.”

Yep. Good idea.

“We only have a couple bottles of wine, though. No beer. You know Devon isn’t much of a drinker,” Chelsie muttered as we strolled down the hallway to her room.

I didn’t respond right away because I was still thinking about her changing out of her wet clothes. An elbow nudged me in the arm, causing me to glance up. “Huh?”

“Wine. No beer. Comprendo?” she repeated, as if I were a preschooler—a Hispanic, alcoholic preschooler.

“Sure, yeah. Fine.”

Chelsie casted me a worried glance as she popped her room key into the door and opened it. She flipped on the lights, then set her purse down on a nearby table. I threw myself on the bed with a long sigh.

“Hey! No wet shoes on the bed. Devon will flip,” Chelsie scolded.

Humming contentedly, I leaned back with my hands behind my head, eyes closed. “Devon is out enjoying his night. He is blissfully unaware that my wet shoes are on his bed.”

She didn’t share in the amusement, storming over and smacking my legs off the bed with an irritated swat. “Don’t be an ass.”

When she ambled into the adjoining bathroom to change, I sat up and craned my neck to steal a peep of her through the cracked door. Almost instantly, she shut the door all the way, and I cursed my disappointment under my breath.

After a few minutes of debating whether or not I should fall asleep or pop open that bottle of wine, Chelsie emerged from the bathroom in a pink tank top and sweatpants. She pulled her hair into a high ponytail, yanking it tightly as she breezed past me. A whiff of lavender and rainwater trailed her as she reached into the mini-fridge and pulled out the wine.

“Cheers to Freeze Frame,” Chelsie said, handing me a glass. She filled her own glass with the sparkling Moscato and held it up.

“I’ll drink to that,” I nodded. I brought the wine to my lips, studying her over the rim. “Also… cheers to us.”

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