[Off Track Records 01.0] Detour

by Kacey Shea

  “I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor.”

  “Yeah, but better safe than sorry.”

  “Trent. I don’t need it. I’m fine.”

  “You weren’t fine last night.”

  “How did I know you would throw that in my face? Is that why you were so nice? So you could hold it against me later?” She pushes off the bed, grabs her pillow and rushes to the door.

  I back up and grip the handle so she can’t leave. “Lexi, none of this was a game. I want to take care of you. I don’t like seeing you in pain.”

  She inhales sharply, as if my words hurt as much as a slap. “I’m not yours to take care of. I’m fine on my own. Okay?”

  “No, not really. It’s good to have someone in your corner, Lex. It doesn’t make you weak or insignificant to accept help.”

  “Let me out of your room. Now!”

  “Jesus. Why are you making this a thing?” I pull open the door and let her pass, only because I know she can’t run far. We’re on a goddamn bus. I inhale and exhale a harsh breath while my gaze passes over the rumpled bedsheets. We didn’t do anything last night, but goddamn that was by far the most exposed I’ve ever been, or want to be, with a woman. Everything about Lexi is a contradiction, and as confusing and frustrating as she is, I still want more. Maybe, just maybe, she’s as frightened as me. Maybe she wants more, too.

  I change my clothes and when I feel the bus slow, then stop and go again, I decide not to give her any more time. If she won’t be real and talk to me inside the bus, she sure as hell won’t once we get to the arena. I want her. That’s true. But does she return the sentiment? Slamming the door on my way out, I’m determined to unveil the answer.

  A few steps into the living space and I’m already irritated. “What’s this?”

  She sits at the kitchen table, fingers pinched together as her pen flies over the pages of her notebook. She doesn’t look up, doesn’t acknowledge my question, or give an indication she’s been up all night watching Disney movies snuggled at my side.

  Sean rolls out of his bunk and starts brewing a pot of coffee. He holds up two mugs, an unspoken question.

  I give him a nod of thanks and then turn back to my ice queen. “So, what? Now you’re ignoring me?”

  Yep. She doesn’t even look up.

  Austin chuckles from where he reclines into one of the chairs and powers on a video game. I’m not sure if his amusement comes from the game or Lexi’s stone wall, but I’d bet money on the latter.

  “Lex, you want a cup?” She glances up from her writing with a sweet smile.

  “I’d love one. Thanks, Sean.”

  Well, fuck him and fuck her! And where does he get off shortening her name to Lex? She hates that. Sean fills my cup first and I grip it in my hands, trying to make sense of where this perfect morning took a wrong turn.

  Austin drops his controller on his seat and comes over to pour himself a cup. He nods at me before joining Lexi on the long bench side of the table. “You look so much better. How’s the cough?” he says.

  “Better. I’m sorry if I kept you up last night.”

  “No, worries. I slept in. We all did. I’m just glad you’re feeling good.”

  “What the fuck is this?” I can’t help but interrupt everyone’s morning pleasantries. It’s as though I’ve walked into some alternate universe where Lexi is nice to everyone but me.

  “What?” Sean lifts his brow with a smirk before taking a sip of coffee.

  Lexi burrows her head in her notebook again.

  “So, now you’re not gonna talk to me but you’ll talk to these fuckers?”

  “I take offense to that,” Austin says, though it’s plain he doesn’t in the slightest. I flip him the bird which only causes him to laugh.

  “I’m writing.” Lexi purses her lips, those fucking lips, and doesn’t even meet my eyes. “Unless you have official band business to discuss, I’m busy.”

  “Oh! Ha! So that’s how it’s going to be . . . Now that . . . After . . .” I stumble over my words and now I have everyone’s concerned stares directed my way. Well, fuck that. I turn to stomp back to my room but Austin calls me back to the table.

  “Actually, we have one item of business that needs attention. Today marks the one third mark of the trip . . . You know what that means?”

  Wing Challenge.

  “What? What does that mean? We make some sort of sacrifice? I nominate Trent!” Lexi grins.

  “Not exactly.” Sean smiles back. “I hope you’re ready, because we’re holding a wing challenge as soon we hit the city.”

  “Wait. No. I thought we were each taking a turn at the room. Lexi doesn’t get to play,” I say.

  “Hell, I don’t. Explain.” She points at Sean.

  “Winner gets the private room for the next four weeks.”

  “Oh, hells yeah, I’m in.” She lifts her hand and he gives her five.

  “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. You’re just starting to feel better,” I say.

  “I’m sorry. When did you start making decisions for me?” She blinks up at me and tilts her head with challenge. So damn stubborn. Like she didn’t spend the night sick as a dog.

  “I’m just saying, I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “You just don’t want me to have the room, that’s it?”

  “No! Fuck, that’s not what I’m saying. Fine. You wanna play? Let’s play.” The city high-rises are still a few miles off as our driver slows for traffic, but I thumb through my phone and smile when I find the reviews on a place within walking distance from the arena. “Screamin’ Lickin’ Chicken will be awaiting your smart mouth. I hope you can handle the heat.”

  “You sure talk a lot of shit for someone not eating,” she says all smug.

  My brows arch from behind my phone and I shake my head. “I’m out of the running. I already won once.”

  “Sounds like a bitch excuse.”

  Cackles and a chorus of oohhs come from the guys, but my competitive nature only jumps at the smack she’s talking.

  “If these guys let me back in the running, I’d outeat you. Easy. There’s no way a little w—” The daggers from her eyes cause me to pause and restructure my retort. “Person such as yourself can beat me in a wing eating contest.”

  She only looks to Sean and lifts her brows.

  “I say yes.” He smirks and crosses his arms over his chest.

  “Fine.” Austin blows out a breath and sips his drink.

  Lexi slams her notebook shut with a grin. “It’s on, T. I’m gonna sleep so damn good on that bed tonight.”

  “Hope you’re ready to put your money where your mouth is, Marx. You talk a big game for someone who can’t reach the top shelf.” I lean over the table, my knuckles pushing into the top, but it doesn’t intimidate her. No, she only laughs.

  “The only thing you’ll be eating is your words, Donavan.” She glares me down, the hint of a smile on her plump, perfect lips. Fuck, I wish I could taste those instead of cayenne pepper wings.

  “Oh, my God, would you two just fuck already?” Austin shouts and his words are like a slap to my face. Am I that obvious? A love-sick puppy pining over a woman who won’t sleep with me unless she’s weakened by sickness, and then it’s only to snuggle.

  I’m so fucked.

  “And why exactly would I want to do that?” She responds all sass and eye rolls. I’m extra fucked up because her eye rolling is starting to turn me on.

  Austin sets down his coffee and considers her question with a cocky lift to his lips. “For one thing, you’d feel better. Happier. Maybe you wouldn’t be such a bitch if you were getting some.”

  That’s it. I’m so tired of his bullshit. Anger flares from inside and I’m ready to punch my own friend in his fucking face. He doesn’t get to disrespect her like that.

  Lexi meets my gaze, and extinguishes my thoughts of murder with a mere tilt of her chin, patting the empty spot to her left until I sit down beside her. Her voice is light
and teasing. “Right. Because Trent has a magical dick.”

  If only she really believed that.

  Sean snickers. “Some have said it’s got the Midas touch.”

  “I think I’ve heard that rumor.” Lex purses her lips and squints as if she’s trying to recall the answer to a complicated test. She knows exactly how to diffuse the situation, how to handle herself amongst a bus full of assholes, and my respect for her grows even more.

  “Does that mean he can turn pussy to gold?” Austin slaps his leg and lets loose a boisterous laugh.

  “I’ll pass,” Lexi says to Austin. She waves a hand and then settles back against the bench. Her knee brushes my leg and my dick hardens in response. God damn. I’m worse than my former teenage self. “My pussy’s a treasure without Trent’s rod going anywhere near it.”

  Oh, fuck me.

  “I have no doubt,” I mutter under my breath while the guys continue to laugh. Iz finally rouses from his bunk, his years of drug use the only explanation for being able to sleep through our rowdiness. He mutters a greeting on his way to the bathroom.

  “Dude, Lexi. You’re the fucking best.” Austin holds his fist to Lexi and she bumps it with her own. “I hope you know what you’ve gotten yourself into with this wing challenge. The private room is worth a lot, but you need to remember what goes in hot, comes out hot.”

  “Oh, Austin, you don’t think I’m scared of a little ass play, do you?”

  The table goes completely silent as we each regard her with wide eyes, and maybe a hint of admiration. The silence stretches until she bursts into laughter.

  “Totally fucking with you.” She rolls her eyes before winking. “Maybe.”

  Dear God, I call mercy. This woman will be the death of me.

  20

  Lexi

  “Lady and gentlemen, the rules are simple. Eat the most and refrain from puking. Winner takes the room and in four weeks . . . we do this all over again.” Sean officially drops the green flag on our contest as our server deposits a platter of deep fried chicken wings dripping with spicy orange sauce in the center of our high top table. “May the best man—or woman—win. Wings up!”

  We each have two plates, one for our food, another for the evidence. Apparently the band’s been holding this competition for years, since back when they toured in a rented van and the winner got to ride shotgun. They have it down to a science. After a questionable challenge in Denver in which Austin and their old drummer Derek got in a fist fight over the wing count, the guys implemented the two plate rule. Sean caught me up to speed on the details during the walk over to this shady eatery.

  If I weren’t so competitive this entire thing would be laughable.

  The first few rounds go down easy. We each take three pieces from the stack until the platter is empty and Sean orders another. I don’t dwell on how many these men, who have one up on me in both weight and experience, have put away in past challenges. Like with anything difficult, I keep my eye on the prize and take it step by step. Or rather, wing by wing.

  My mouth is on fire, but it’s almost worse having to wait. The extra time between rounds doesn’t alleviate the burn or the fullness in my belly. Locking my lips around the straw of my cup, I sip the cool water. It’s a sweet balm to the fire taking place in my mouth. Trent’s gaze follows my every move. His normally friendly banter has been missing since I stormed out of his room this morning and his irritation scratches at my focus, but I can’t think about his feelings right now. Eye on the prize. I slurp down more water.

  “Rookie move, Marx.” Sean nudges my shoulder and points at my glass.

  “What? No water? That’s not in the rules.”

  “Straw. You’ll fill up too fast. If you drink without one, it helps cool your lips.”

  “Don’t be sharing strategy.” Austin’s brow narrows but Sean just shakes his head.

  “How come Iz isn’t here?” I ask as the server comes back with another platter. My stomach rumbles at the scent of spice, only it’s not with hunger; it’s more a get the hell outta Dodge warning.

  “Iz doesn’t need the room. He’s too high to notice where he is half the time,” Sean says.

  “Besides, talk about unfair. He’s got never-ending munchies,” Austin adds.

  “Okay, shut up or give up. Let’s go.” Trent dishes out four wings to each empty plate. The ones he puts on mine are noticeably smaller than the others’ and I glare at him. He raises an eyebrow. I respond with a roll of my eyes and get down to finishing my food.

  My mouth passes the point of burning and settles in a state of numbness. Beads of sweat gather on my eyelids, and I have to be extra careful to not get sauce in my eyes when I wipe them with the back of my shirt sleeves. Fuck. You know it’s hot when your eyes not only water, but sweat. Every time I think of throwing in the towel, all I have to do is glance up and meet Trent’s cocky stare. He doesn’t think I can do this. It’s every reason to prove I can.

  Austin bails first with an impressive twenty-five. Sean doesn’t go down without a fight, but his upchuck reflex is what sends him out of the race. Hands over his mouth, he rushes from the table. We’re going one for one now, and I reach for another chicken wing to start the next round. I eat fast, licking my lips before I can consider how good it would be to empty my stomach into the trash can.

  “Well, that was disappointing.” Austin blows out a breath and pulls out his cell. “Can you two wrap this up? I want to get back.”

  Trent’s lip pulls up with his brow from across the table. He reaches for his next wing and dangles it over his plate like a taunt. “Give up now and we can end this in a tie. Share the room.”

  Austin’s laughter fuels my resolution to see this through, and I shake my head with all the irritation Trent’s offer entails. “No fucking way. I’m not making a deal.” I don’t want to share your bed, I almost say, except that’s not entirely true. I won’t, but after last night I can’t wrap my feelings around the experience of lying next to him. Cherished. Safe. Wanted. These are all the dangerous desires Trent stirs within. And though I can’t admit them aloud, I sure as hell won’t mock them.

  “Fine. Let’s up the ante.”

  “What do you have in mind?” I sigh as if I don’t care, but I’m actually interested in what he’s offering.

  “If you win, you go see the doctor.”

  “No. If I win I get the room.”

  “Yeah, that too.”

  “Whatever.” I roll my eyes. “That’s it? I expected more.”

  “Swear on it.” His voice turns growly and goosebumps chase across my skin. My stomach flip flops and it’s not from the food.

  “Fine. If I win, I go to the doctor and get the room. I swear. But if you win, you shave off the rest of that eyebrow. The entire thing, for the rest of the tour.”

  “And I get the room.”

  “Deal. Now, finish that wing before you finger it to death.”

  “I’m full.” He drops it onto his plate.

  “What? No!”

  “I couldn’t eat another bite if I tried.” His lips couldn’t pull any wider with his smile, as if he just won the jackpot. Only he didn’t. He lost.

  “Fucking liar.” I don’t need his pity.

  “Nope. The truth. Now, come on. We had a deal and Dr. Bailey is waiting at the bus for you.”

  I grind my teeth together because this is crap. He’s letting me win. I don’t need anything handed to me. I don’t need him playing parent or protector. I’ve taken care of myself just fine on my own.

  “This is bullshit,” Austin complains and I turn my chin to level him with my stare.

  “I agree.”

  “You can’t change the rules to Wing Challenge. You won, Lexi. Now, let’s go.” Trent’s shit-eating grin never leaves his face as he stands from the table and steps besides my chair. Waiting.

  “What’d I miss?” Sean strolls up to the table looking ten times better.

  Trent opens his mouth to answer but snaps it shut wh
en I narrow my gaze in a glare.

  Screw him. I shoot him one last scowl and take a swig of water before climbing off the high top chair. I stomp out of the restaurant without a second look, and leave them to pay the bill.

  Not fifty feet from the restaurant, they catch up and I have to listen to Austin complain about this being a violation of their stupid decision making process. Idiots. All of them. My stomach groans and gurgles in agreement, and the sweat from before cools with the breeze. My body shakes with chills. I was stupid for even partaking in this pointless challenge after the night I had. I better not get sick. Again. Not when we have a show to play in only six hours. I wish I could hit the reset button on this entire day.

  Sean catches up to me, jogging until he’s at my side. “Why so glum, Lex? You get your own room! That’s fucking awesome.”

  He’s right. I should be happy with the outcome. Only I’m not. And that’s because I feel played. Cornered into a cheap win when I could have accomplished it fair and square on my own. I know I could. “How many times have you won Wing Challenge?”

  “Let me count.” He holds his hands out in front and pretends to add up a multifaceted equation. He covers his mouth to cough out, “Once,” and his lips twitch up at the sides.

  “That’s pitiful.” I nudge him with my shoulder.

  “Pretty bad. But Austin’s never won, though he came close twice. Trent used to lose to Derek, but since he quit the band . . .”

  “Trent always wins,” I finish for him, the words sour on my lips.

  “Until you, you badass mother trucker.” When I don’t smile at his joke he wraps his arm around me and pulls me so I’m tucked into his side. “Come on, Lex. A win’s, a win. You should be rubbing it in his face.”

  Maybe that’s why I’m so angry. Because I can’t tease Trent the way I would have if I’d won for real. My irritation has nothing to do with my inability to take help from others. Nope. Not one bit.