Page 22 of Accidental Baby For My Brother’s Best Friend

Locke

Okay, so something’s wrong. I don’t know what it is, exactly, but something weird is happening to me. Maybe I’m getting sick or something, which would be really bad timing given this is our big break and all.

Whatever it is, it makes my face hot and keeps me staring at Gemma Arden. Ever since she broke down in giggles when Samuel got stuck in that gross bathroom, I’ve had a hard time keeping my eyes off her, and I can’t figure out why. I guess I don’t ever get to see her laugh much. She’s always busy or pissed off at me. But the way she laughed loud and open at first, and then silent, like she could barely breathe, struck me as almost…adorable.

Now, I can't look at her without heat flooding to my cheeks like I'm the blushing virgin I haven't been since I was fifteen years old. I find a lot of women attractive and it’s never been like this, so I honestly have no other explanation except that I’ve been drinking too much and not sleeping enough and I need to take better care of myself.

“The best road trip snacks are hot Cheetos and Snickers and I don’t take criticism,” Axel insists. I come into the conversation in the middle, so I have no idea what the others have suggested. It’s the second day into the trip to Vegas, and we’re all getting a little antsy.

“You’re wrong. Zero bars and the blue Takis are obviously the best road trip snacks,” I pipe in, and I’m not even sure why I said it.

Gemma’s sitting on the floor of the tour bus, which Jackson keeps yelling at her about, but he can’t look around all the time, since he’s driving, and she’s a brat, so she’s cross-legged on the floor, playing Solitaire since Axel got way too competitive playing Slapjack. When I talk about my favorite snacks, she whirls around, her green eyes wide.

“You like Zero bars and the blue Takis?”

“Fucking gross,” Jackson groans, as if he’s long-suffering on this topic.

“Of course, I do. I’m an intellectual,” I respond, and I can’t help but grin. Judging by her surprise, it finally feels like we’re on the same level, instead of me just having a hard time not looking at her or not being strangely angry when she and Axel get close.

Gemma gets up off the floor and sits next to me, as if she’s just discovered something amazing.

“Have you ever dipped the blue Takis in that strawberry milk they sell at gas stations?”

I frown. “No, I dip them in the chocolate milk because I’m not a maniac.”

Gemma groans dramatically. “God, I thought you really were an intellectual.”

I can’t help that my frown turns back into a smile and I shrug.

“I guess I could be convinced to try it,” I drawl, and the beaming grin that Gemma gives me makes heat flood to my face again.

A half hour later, Gemma falls asleep against my shoulder, snoring softly. My shoulders feel stiff and I should move away to stretch out, but she doesn't get much sleep, given how we're all heavy snorers, and she looks so peaceful, her angular features softened out in her slumber.

When Axel offers to take her and put her head in his lap, I give him a death stare but he only shrugs and leaves me be. Eventually, she wakes and rubs at her eyes, smiling softly at me. My heart flips over and I have to excuse myself to go to the tiniest bathroom in the world, where I wash my face in the tiniest sink in the world, my shoulders bowed over.

What the hell is wrong with me?

We’ve got two shows in Vegas, and even though this first one is at a smaller club, it’s still a big deal, and I need to be at my best. No more thinking of pale green eyes, auburn hair, and a set of wide hips in the shower. No more staring at Gemma Arden.

I keep the first promise to myself, but the second ends up being a lot harder, especially since Gemma is in the front row at the concert, dancing in a barely-there club dress. Thank God I’m the drummer so I get to sit down in the back, and if I miss one beat, no one will notice over Jackson’s raspy vocals and Axel shredding on the guitar.

I manage to avoid her for the most part, which was my plan, but I don’t like how Axel keeps winking at her. At this point, I’m a little concerned about Jackson being so distracted that he doesn’t notice.

Our lead singer only seems to have eyes for a chubby, cute girl in the second row with bright blue hair, and I want to push Axel off the stage when Gemma whoops his name after a particularly long solo. Part of me feels particularly annoyed since it’s a solo that I wrote. I keep my songwriting credits under wraps, giving credit to Axel or Jackson, and they do co-write most of the songs for the group with me.

“Keyed Up,” however, was completely written by me, including the melody, and that makes my anger particularly personal, somehow.

It still doesn’t make sense to me, the way I am starting to feel protective over Gemma when, previously, I thought Jackson was overprotective, but I’m trying not to think too much about it. Samuel was right, it is none of my business, and I need to do what I’ve always done when I’m unsure about something: focus on my music.

I do feel petty enough to ask Jackson to credit me for “Keyed Up,” though, and when he does the crowd goes unexpectedly wild. I have to admit it’s an ego boost, and when we get done with the show, I get bombarded with fans asking me to sign albums.

Usually, Gemma is sitting at a table somewhere near the stage, selling t-shirts and vinyl records, so I can’t help but glance over at her in some strange hope that she might be impressed. Instead of Gemma, though, Samuel is in her place, blushing furiously as scantily clad women ask to take selfies with him or for him to sign their skin.

I find this unusual and I’m a little annoyed that Axel also seems to be nowhere to be found, but I know that Jackson will be making the rounds as our charismatic leader, and he won’t allow anything untoward to happen. Not that I care, of course. It’s not my job to protect Gemma, but I feel better knowing that her brother is looking out for her.

I’m distracted enough that I don’t drink too much, like I did that last night in Tucson, and for once, I don’t mind the attention and the crowd. I think maybe this is what I needed, and once again my focus on my music pays off with my mood.

Until I realize that the only two members of the Spades who are left at the venue are Samuel and myself.

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