Page 27 of Taming the Rockstar

"You're the best," Apollo says, pulling her in for a kiss.

"Did you talk to Tasha?" Charmaine asks when she pulls away. Their daughter Tasha was a freshman at Georgia State University.

"I still can't believe she didn't want to come tonight, but I guess I can understand. This is significantly less cool when it's your dad," Apollo grumbles.

"Oh, you're being way more forgiving than I am. I chewed her out on the phone in the Uber over here," Charmaine says. She asks me, "Do you know what a 'Soundcloud Rapper' is?"

"Yeah, I've never worked for one, but I know about it."

"Well, I'm not trying to be a bitch, but I think it just proves not everyone should have access to Garage Band. Tasha's going to see someone's dusty son spit subpar bars over a drum pad instead of her father! Can you believe that?"

"Unfortunately, I remember what it was like to want to distance yourself from your parents when you're a teenager. My dad's an accountant, and I refused to let him help me with my taxes until last year just because I didn't want to listen to his advice."

"See? Kids ignore their parents. It's part of growing up! Besides, we're all getting breakfast tomorrow morning. Tasha found a spot and everything. I can't wait to hear about college!" Apollo gushes.

"You make it sound like you're the one going." Charmaine laughs.

"Well, it's not like either of us had a chance to go! We can live vicariously through her for a bit." It's cute watching Apollo be so proud of his daughter. It makes me sympathize with my mom a bit. I mentally promise to FaceTime her this week. She got the autographed poster I sent her in the mail and sent back fifty heart emojis.

"He's not the only one! When Tasha graduates, I'm going to lose it. I remember when she was a baby!" Priya calls as she curls her hair.

"Remember when you went through a whole box of tissues at her high school graduation?" Apollo asks.

"I knew I would lose it, so I brought an entire box!"

"And then they had to tell everyone to hold their applause until all of the names were called because Vince was cheering so loud," Priya adds.

"Hey! Forgive me for being proud! We're not the most book-smart bunch," Vince says.

"Henry's reading Tolstoy," Charmaine points out.

"Yeah, obviously. Henry's, Henry. I'm talking about us, regular people."

Charmaine sighs and grins. "I've missed you, buffoons," she says quietly.

"Lyndsey, how are they treating you? Does your therapist need to bill them?"

"Tour's been great so far," I say, trying to remain nonchalant. I can feel Vince staring at me.

That night before he goes onstage, Vince pulls me into a closet near one of the industrial amps and kisses me like he's going off to war.

"What's with you?" I ask with a giggle as his lips work my collarbone.

"It's good luck, Lynds," he says, grinning like a kid. I melt a bit as I pull him in for another kiss, slipping my tongue into his mouth and running it along his teeth, "Well, good luck." I say.

I wonder if I will ever tire of watching Vince and Priya sprint around the stage. The band is on fire that night, perhaps revitalized by the combined horniness of Vince and Apollo. Vince swaggers across the stage like he knows I'm watching him. And when the band takes their final bow after the encore, his eyes wander until he finds me side-stage, leaning against a pole. Then, he finally smiles and takes his bow, leaning forward as he clutches Apollo and Priya's hands.

The ride back to the hotel is silent. Apollo and Charmaine took a separate car, so I'm crammed between Vince and Henry. Priya sits up front next to the driver, who looks too frightened to ask her if she is who he thinks she is.

We sneak into the hotel through the back entrance; this morning was different, but post-show, who knows how many of their fans also accidentally booked a room at the same hotel?

In the darkened tunnel of a service elevator, Vince grabs my hand and squeezes. The elevator groans up to the fourteenth floor, and Priya and Henry shoot us a look before making their way to their rooms.

Vince and I pause in front of the doors to our rooms. The tension between us is palpable. I could cut it with a knife. I'm acutely aware of every muscle in my body, how my hands hang awkwardly at my sides, how my weight shifts from one foot to the other.

"Vince," I start. His lips crash into mine before I can finish. I step back from the force as I shift my pelvis forward. He fumbles around for his keycard, and retrieves it from his pocket, before continuing to suck on my bottom lip. I pull away momentarily.

"Hang on," he whispers.

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