Page 7 of Give Me What I Want

“Fine,” I hissed through my teeth. “Butheneeds to fix this. Set them straight, Ro.” I jabbed a finger past Cole’s face towards Ronan, then turned and stomped away, heading to the bathroom, and tugging my t-shirt off, tossing it back over my shoulder at the boys.

“No, he won’t be doing that,” a voice that I really didn’t want to hear said.

I turned, and Mav suddenly threw himself in front of me, his sweaty back sticking to my chest. “Get out, Garth,” he commanded.

I tilted my head enough to see past Mav’s elbow and found Garth, red-faced, looking up at the ceiling. It was only then that I realised what Mav was doing. Shielding me, in my underwear, from our manager’s view. Cute.

“I’ll go in a second, I just came to say good job guys,” Garth praised, his head tilted so far back I wondered if he might fall over.

Jordan flicked his messy black hair out of his eyes and asked the question we were all thinking. “Good job with what?”

“The whole fake dating thing. It’s genius. The fans are obsessed with it, the label are excited, we’re adding more dates to the tour because of it. I take it this was your smart idea, Ro-ro?”

“Don’t call me that,” Ro snapped, and Garth’s head fell forward, his gaze drifting straight to the floor as he apologised under his breath.

“This was a good move, Ronan. Beatrix, you better get on board with this, for the sake of your reputation. Wouldn’t want to fuck it all up for everyone by acting like a—”

“Careful,” Mav snarled, his hand reaching back for me, twisting awkwardly as he pulled me even closer to his back. “Now leave us be, clearly we have some shit to discuss.”

“Of course, better work out your stories, huh guys?” Garth said with an excited grin, then turned to leave, slamming the door behind himself while whistling one of our songs.

Mav released me, and I forced my feet to remain where they were, instead of running into the bathroom and locking the door until the guys had left. I didn’t want to discuss it at all. I didn’t want to accept it either. Because I, Beatrix Bolton, did not do boyfriends. Fake or not.

Then again, for these boys, for our future, I had a feeling that the things that I didn’t do would quickly become things that I’d learn to live with.

“We’re doing this?” I asked, flicking my gaze between each of my bandmates before finally landing on Ronan.

He was the only one to speak, answering for the others with two reluctant words. “Guess so.”

3

Tapping my foot, I waited as patiently as I could for Bea to unlock the door. She was in ‘her bedroom’, the room at the back of our bus that stored the majority of our clothes and the only proper, full-sized bed. I knew that she had heard me knock on the door, seeing as the screaming she had been no doubt trying to hide with a pillow shoved in her mouth had stopped. Sometimes that girl forgot how impressive her lungs were, nothing could truly muffle the frustration leaving her body tonight.

“What?” she snapped as she opened the door, then her face fell, and she mumbled an apology. “I didn’t realise it was you.”

Her dark eye makeup was smudged but no tears sat in her eyes. She hadn’t quite reached that level of anger where she’d burst into tears, but I was betting she was damn close. Ro had pushed her a little too far this morning, and no one, not even me, had backed her up. How could we? No one could get a word in. It also wasn’t our fight, and if I was being honest, Ro had made some pretty good points.

They had been ‘dating’ for just over a week now, and that entire week had been beyond fucking weird. Watching them put on their act made my stomach churn, a feeling I wasn’t even a little bit used to. I couldn’t stand the forced way they spoke to each other, it wasn’t natural, and it was putting me on edge. Ro was clearly uncomfortable, never usually one to fake anything but a smile. Sometimes they overplayed it, picking fun at the whole situation with sickening pet names and dramatically long stares, those moments were easier to watch. I wished they could just act like they normally did. If they had been dating for real, I doubt they’d have changed much, just maybe been nicer to each other more often than they fought, so why couldn’t they just do that?

The whole thing was putting everyone on edge. Whenever we were out in public, I found myself second-guessing my every move. I didn’t want to get close to Bea, just in case someone saw, misinterpreted a moment of playfulness between us as flirting, and thought that she was cheating on Ro, but I also didn’t want to avoid her, she was my family.

I couldn’t help but feel like I was pushing her away, which was what had driven me to find her now and pull her into my arms. In the safety of our tour bus, travelling to our next destination, we could be ourselves. This cramped yet luxurious bus, and the house we had shared for the last four years, were our safe places.

But I also didn’t want them to keep fighting like they were. So I squeezed her tight, resting my chin on the top of her head as she fisted the back of my t-shirt. “Please, please stop this,” I whispered in a rare moment of vulnerability, closing my eyes and breathing her in, that comforting jasmine scent that she always wore lifting my mood just enough to induce a smile.

The expression sat comfortably on my face, and as she sighed and snuggled against my chest, I felt my worries start to drift away.

Bea, muffled by my t-shirt, apologised. “Sorry, Cole. I didn’t realise that it was all bothering you so much. I’m sorry.”

Of course, she wouldn’t.

“I know,” I whispered, releasing her enough so that she could raise her head and look up at me. She wrinkled her nose as it brushed against my beard, then she shimmied out of my hold entirely.

“I feel like a right bitch.” She pushed her hair back, the black and blonde curls falling down her back as she gave me a weak smile.

I licked my thumb and ran it under one of her ocean-blue eyes in an attempt to clean up the tiny smudges of black. But instead of helping, I ended up making it a whole lot worse, dragging a smear of eyeliner across her face. I tensed, and quickly wiped down, failing again to remove the black makeup. My eyes widened and I stifled a laugh, quickly pulling my hands away and backing up in preparation of her realising what I had done.

Bea’s brows pulled tightly together, then she turned, went back into the backroom of the bus, clicked on the light to illuminate the dark room with its black walls, and headed to the tall mirror on the wall to the far left. Before she could yell my name, I ran. Stumbling down the length of the tour bus and crashing into Jord as he pulled a bar of chocolate out of the fridge. The packet fell from his hands and slid across the floor, going straight under Mav’s chair in the lounge area and earning me a pissed-off glare from Jordan. But he didn’t scare me, no one really scared me, but I still ducked behind him, using him as a human shield while laughing my ass off as Bea came charging towards us with her makeup still a mess.

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