Page 11 of Give Me What I Want

He tossed each of us a bottle, knowing what we’d want without asking, then handed Bea a coke as she came padding past him, barefoot and fresh-faced.

“Thanks,” she said softly, always soft for Mav, then picked up a box from the counter, grabbed the lilac blanket from the arm of Mav’s chair, and got comfy on the floor. Tucking into the pizza, she declared that we needed a movie day and that for once, she’d let someone else pick.

So for once, instead of sitting through anything Star Wars related, we settled in, continued our journey, and watchedmyfavourite,Lord Of The Rings—extended editions, obviously—until everyone crashed.

4

Honestly, I didn’t expect it to be so exhausting. Fake dating the girl I had spent the last seven years of my life living and working with, building this weird little family with shouldn’t have been too hard. But I was fucking drained.

Garth had the pair of us holding hands wherever we went, spending time together in public without the rest of the guys, and we had to just go with it. The only break we had from being this fresh, loved-up couple was when we locked ourselves away on the bus or up in hotel suites. Luckily, we had decided at the start that we probably weren’t the types of people who would be into big public displays of affection, so I hadn’t needed to be all over her. Thank fucking God. But still, the acting was tiring, and I didn’t like that I was having to pretend to be something I wasn’t. A loving boyfriend.

Herloving boyfriend.

Ninety percent of the time I wanted to scream at her instead of the hissed jabs we took at each other through forced smiles, but I couldn’t, not until we were alone, and even then, the majority of our fights would get cut short. One of the guys would step in, complaining that they didn’t want to listen to us fight. We were all tired.

But we were the talk of the town, literally, in every single fucking town that we had visited so far. Our albums were selling like crazy, people who had never heard of us were now our biggest fans. It was insane. We had spent years building a name for ourselves, and then overnight, with one misinterpreted picture of the pair of us leaving a restaurant, we had risen to an entirely new level. And it wasn’t just our usual scene who were talking, our faces were everywhere. We were the couple that everyone wanted to know more about, and our choice to not talk to anyone, and not hold any interviews to discuss our ‘relationship’ was only making them all talk more. Career-wise, this whole thing was a dream come true for all of us.

So no matter how tired I was, no matter how badly I wanted to scream that it was all an act, they had us all wrong, I would keep it up. But Bea seriously needed to sort her shit out.

Part of me wondered if she was secretly enjoying herself. Her smile seemed far less fake than mine. She seemed smug actually. Every time I was forced to do something nice for her, she got this little glint in her eye, a sparkle that made my jaw clench. Maybe this was payback for every time that I had pissed her off over the years. If that was the case, I was in big trouble, maths might not have been one of my strengths, but at least once a week I had irritated her for the last seven years. Payback was going to be a bitch, and a royal one at that.

Where was mine though? She gave as good as she got. So why was it that she was reaping the fucking benefits?

That would have to stop, right now. Even if I only got my payback in the form of tiny, satisfied moments.

I tightened my grip on her hand as we strolled down a busy street in Amsterdam. We had arrived here a couple of days ago and had all decided that we’d go sightseeing today. One thing we didn’t seem to do enough of was enjoy the places that we visited. I knew that we were extremely privileged to be able to explore the cities, so why the hell shouldn’t we? Not everything on tour needed to be about sound checks, press opportunities, and killer shows. We had lives outside of that, needs, interests, talents.

For me, Amsterdam hadn’t even been close to the top of my bucket list of places to see. I was looking forward to visiting Italy far more than being here. But I couldn’t deny that the place was beautiful, and when the guys had started to plan out the day, I had become curious about the city where we would be spending a couple more days.

“Ouch, Ro, that hurts,” Bea complained, and I snorted before painfully forcing myself to give her the fakest apologetic look that I could manage while loosening my grip on her hand.

“Sorry, Your Maj. I’m just excited to be here…” I cocked my head and batted my lashes at her. “…with you.”

“Barf!” Cole said with a laugh, joining us and shaking his head. “If you’re going to do all that soppy crap, can you make sure none of us can hear you?”

I gave him a frustrated glare. He knew it was all pretend. We all knew it. So there was no need for him to take it so seriously. I was pretty sure that ifanyonehad overheard me just then, they wouldn’t have taken me seriously. It was a blatant joke, but one that the reporters could spin into a little inside joke or something that Bea and I had. They were forever trying to pin us with our ‘thing’. A couple of days ago one of the articles said that Bea and I liked to warm up together for a show by practising Mongolian throat singing on the bus while staring deep into each other’s eyes and only breaking to kiss like our lives depended on it, they said that we had a spiritual connection.

How they had come up with that idea was beyond me. Maybe someone had been outside the bus while Jordan had been singing in the shower or something—he did kinda sound like that when he sang, well, attempted.

The only truth there was that Bea and Ididdo vocal warm-ups together, but there was nothing harmonious or sweet about it. Nospiritual connection. We would battle. Who could reach the more impressive notes, who could hold for longer, who had the better range? Deep down I knew that it was her, it had to be her, otherwise, I’d be our frontman and our poor little Queenie would be out on the streets, probably working in her sister’s bar or something as she dreamed of a day when she’d be able to sing like a star.

“Aw, Shnookums,” Bea cooed, leaning her head against my bicep and nuzzling. “I’m happy to be here with you too.”

“Oh God,” Cole groaned, shooting off ahead to lean over the railing of the bridge we were about to cross and pretending to vomit over the side.

Bea laughed at our drummer’s theatrics. The sound was so genuine, so full of joy and freedom. She moved away from me a little, still holding my hand, and began to swing her arms as she hurried us along to catch up with Cole who was still leaning over the railing.

“I don’t like this,” Jord mumbled as he made his way to my other side. “How much longer do you reckon we’ll have to keep up this act?”

I hummed, not sure what to tell him. He, of all of us, was the most ambitious. He was the one who wanted to live that stereotypical sex, drugs and rock and roll rockstar lifestyle that you heard about, so his attitude to our situation didn’t make much sense to me. We were getting so much attention, and he was getting his pick of girls. Also, he didn’t have to do anywhere near as much acting as Bea and I did.

Then again, he was the one who was most likely to get too drunk or high and slip up. He was probably on edge constantly, worrying that he’d end up telling whichever groupie or fan he was fucking that Bea and I were faking our relationship.

“A few more weeks, at least,” I said quietly, not wanting anyone to overhear us, you never knew who was lurking. “Just think of the benefits, bro. Keep your sights set on our future.” It was what I had kept telling myself too. Every morning when I woke, I convinced myself that our future was worth it. I told myself that I loved each and every one of my bandmates enough to pretend to love one of them in a weird, new way, or at least, I could try to look like I reallyreallyfucking liked her.

Jordan sighed loudly, and I elbowed him, giving him a stern glare that he mirrored back at me. His expression dropped to defeat within a second though. Jord didn’t stand his ground with me often, not like Maverick and our little Queenie did.

Mav slumped over the railing, hair falling forward while he gazed down into the water below with a pathetic look on his face. I understood why it was there, I just didn’t particularly like to see it. If he wanted to mope, he should have stayed back on the bus, but when I had voiced that earlier on Bea had lost her shit. She had called me an insensitive pile of crap and had insisted that a day out, riding bikes and getting up to no good was exactly what Mav needed.

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