Page 63 of Give Me What I Want

For a moment, that feeling of unease that I had felt all morning lifted, and I exhaled loudly, my shoulders slumping, body relaxing. There was a shift, a huge change in the air surrounding us. I placed my bowl down, still half full, onto the floor, and sat forward, gazing into her eyes. Those shimmering blues that looked so vulnerable yet strong all at the same time.

“Bumblebee,” I toyed with each syllable, enjoying how it felt on my tongue, coming out freely, uninterrupted. That nickname meant so much. I thought back to every time I had tried to use it, every time she had stopped me, glared at me, and made me feel as though I wasn’t entitled to it because I wasn’t… enough.

“Bumblebee,” I repeated, and she placed her own bowl down, tilting her head to the other side as that gentle smile remained on her lips. She bathed in the word as I said it a third time, then a fourth. Over and over again I whispered that nickname and felt my chest swell and then constrict, warmth radiating through my body. No, it was burning through me. “I’m so lucky that I get to call you mine.”

“But it’s all fake,” she mumbled, her face falling.

“No, it’s not. The titles, boyfriend, girlfriend, they might be, but the feelings. You feel it too.” I stated.

“I feel feelings,” she whispered, her lips lifting again.

“Good.” I cleared my throat. “Now get your ass here, and kiss me,” I demanded, not wanting to ruin anything and make her run by spilling some stupid confession.

Something I had never expected had happened.

She drove me wild; she made me want to scream. But she made me happy, and she gave me a purpose. She was everything I could ever wish for. A challenge, a prize, a future, a better life.

I was in love. Truly, madly, deeply, irrationally, infuriatingly, in stupid. Fucking. Love.

“So, you know how you’re being all sweet and shit right now?” Bea said slowly once she had done as she was told, hesitating for only a second, not wanting to pass on her germs, but accepting that if I was going to catch whatever she had, I’d catch it regardless of whether she kissed me right now.

“Yes,” I said cautiously, pulling a blanket from the back of the sofa and tucking it over us as she snuggled into me. I leaned over and grabbed my half-eaten food, not wanting to waste any.

“Can we watch a film?”

“Sure, what film?” I knew I’d regret it the moment the words left my mouth, and sure enough, she said the one film I was sick and tired of watching. Yet, I caved, for once, without a single word of argument, and ate my food quietly as she began to recite the first fifteen minutes ofStar Wars; A New Hope. Then I was shushing her and stroking her hair until we both dozed off around the middle of the film, neither of us waking until Jordan came crashing in with the guys from One Last Time, declaring that they were going out, with or without us.

Bea and I looked at each other, half asleep. And without saying a word, we decided to stay in, curled up on the sofa, like a real couple. Like the one thing we’d likely never get to be. But for now, I could pretend that we were, and I realised that I quite liked pretending when it came to her, because for me, it felt as natural as playing my bass.

It felt right, even when I wanted to scream in her face.

18

My throat still hurt, and I was still nauseous, but I was feeling far better than I had two days ago. Ronan had made me so many meals and drinks, all intended to make me feel better and they had worked for the most part. I felt much more like myself.

But dread was sinking in now because whenever any of us had been ill on tour in the past, the others followed soon after. Hopefully, they’d manage to hold off until I was feeling one hundred percent though. Dealing withmenwith colds while still feeling a little off myself… no thanks.

In an ideal world, they’d hold off getting ill until we got home in a couple of weeks. That way I could disappear for a few days, maybe I’d go spend a week with my sister. I hadn’t seen her at all this year. It wasn’t strange for that to happen these days. I was busy, she was busy, but we always made time for calls.

But we didn’t live in an ideal world, so chances were one of them, likely Ro—the biggest baby when it came to getting ill—would wake up tomorrow feeling like ass, and I’d be stuck here, on a bus, listening to him whine.

Although, he had been taking such good care of me, so I probablyshouldjust suck it up. Or, I could beg Elijah to let me stay on their bus for a few days, just until the worst passed.

Eyeing Ro suspiciously from the bed, I assessed his health. He was in the kitchen, fixing himself some lunch, he had woken me up ten minutes ago, complaining that my body clock needed fixing. I had protested, but he had laughed and walked away, leaving the door open even though I had shouted at him to close it. And yes, I could’ve got up and done it myself, but I had been gifted the glorious view of his inked, toned back flexing as he whisked something in a bowl. That sight was the only thing that had kept me lying in bed.

He turned to face me, a brow quirked as his lips twisted into a sly smirk. “Are you hungry, Your Majesty?”

“A little.” But not for whatever the hell he was about to cook. Biting my lip, I unashamedly locked my gaze on his chest. Solid muscles, wrapped in smooth skin, decorated so prettily, a ship on one pec, stormy sky above, giant octopus on the other. It wrapped around his shoulder, tentacles twisting. It was my second favourite piece of art on his body. The first was his most recently done, the small heart behind his ear that matched the one on my thigh, a symbol of our family, that bond we all share etched into our skin forever.

It made me smile every time I looked at it, every time I applied cream to each of my bandmate’s fresh tattoos. They could do it themselves, but I liked doing it, tracing the lines as they began to heal, flaky, itchy skin beneath my fingers.

“For food. You need food,” he scolded, putting the bowl down and folding his arms.

I groaned. “I’ve just woken up. I’m not hungry for food. I’m hungry for…” My thighs clenched. These guys had turned me into a needy mess, I swear to god. I had never been like this before. Yes, I practised self-carea lot,but that was different. I had never craved men in the way I craved my bandmates.

Shaking his head and closing his eyes he began to walk the length of the bus towards my open door, but instead of joining me like I had hoped, he closed the door. “Get dressed, Bumblebee.”

“I don’t want to,” I protested, snuggling down into the cosy duvet, inhaling the lingering smell of peppermint—Ronan—and sea salt—Maverick. The pair of them had slept with me last night while Cole and Jordan had passed out on the sofa after they had stayed up gaming.

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