#Moonstruck_A #Lovestruck Novel

by Sariah Wilson

  She was a lot younger than I had expected. Early twenties, definitely. We introduced ourselves by name, and I saw that same goofy look in Fitz’s eyes when he shook hands with her.

  Piper didn’t seem to notice. “Thanks for coming early! Whatever equipment and instruments you want to be packed up, leave them here, and I’ll have one of the crew grab them. If you’ll come with me, I’ll show you to your home away from home for the next few months.”

  We followed behind her toward the huge, shiny buses. There were dozens of people milling around, talking and laughing. I saw Fox and waved to him enthusiastically. He gave me a slight head nod in return.

  I wondered if that meant Ryan was nearby. Just thinking his name set me off, like some kind of conditioned response. My heartbeat elevated, my stomach dropped down to my toes, and breathing became complicated.

  If that was from just thinking about him, what would it be like when I saw him again? What if he kept flirting with me and then tried to kiss me? What if he still wanted me to break my rules?

  Would I be strong enough to resist him for weeks and weeks?

  I suspected the answer was no.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Piper led us to the bus parked farthest to the right. “This is your first time touring, right?” We told her yes. “Awesome. I’ll try to make sure I cover everything about the bus and the rules. If you have any questions, ask. First, this is your bus, #304. Be sure to check the numbers because they all look the same. We’ve had more than one mix-up before. You’ll be sharing it with Ryan’s band. They’re around here somewhere.”

  A middle-aged man sporting salt-and-pepper hair and a friendly smile came down the bus steps toward us.

  “This is Vincent, your driver.” He wore the same black polo as the security guards, with the word Moonstruck over his left breast. How had I not noticed that the other night at Ryan’s concert?

  “Bus driver and sometimes zookeeper. You can call me Vince.” We all introduced ourselves, and then Vince said to bring only a carry-on with us and that he’d be sure to get all our luggage put in the storage under the bus. Piper had mentioned this in her phone conversation with Fitz; space was limited, so we all packed carry-ons that had our necessities, including a few changes of clothes and something to sleep in. We could swap things out from our suitcases when the buses stopped.

  Piper told us to follow her, and we went up the steps into the tour bus. I was shocked when I reached the top. It was all buttery leather and chrome and rich dark-wood walls. On the right side behind the driver’s seat there was a large wraparound couch with a table in the middle. I placed the plate of brownies I’d baked that morning on the table.

  On the left side there were a couple of freestanding chairs next to the mini kitchen. Along with the sparkling quartz countertop, there was a sink, a small refrigerator, a toaster oven, and a lot of cabinet and drawer space. It didn’t look like a place where you could really prepare a meal. A big flat-screen TV hung just above the two chairs, and a bunch of gaming consoles were plugged into it.

  “This is the lounging area. It’s a good place to hang out, watch movies, play video games, get a snack. We have satellite TV and Wi-Fi. As you can see when we’re parked, the walls can be extended on both sides for more room. It’s a tighter fit while we’re traveling. Please remember that you’re sharing this bus with eight other people, and your mother’s not one of them. Clean up after yourself, and be considerate of others.”

  At the mention of our mom, my hand tightened on my bag, and it reminded me to send Angie a text later on to check in and see how things were going. Piper opened a door leading to a narrow hallway. There were four columns of three beds. “This is the bunk alley. It is a designated quiet zone twenty-four/seven. If you remember to keep the doors shut, it should keep out the sound from the other areas. This bottom bunk here is being used as a ‘junk bunk.’ It means it doesn’t belong to anyone, and people will put their extra stuff here. Feel free to use it if you’d like, but know that things get ruined that way.”

  “Why is it so cold?” I asked, and this time my shivering really was from the temperature.

  “All the buses are set to sixty-six degrees. We’ve found that warmer temperatures make smells worse and basically turn the buses into mobile petri dishes. Keeping it colder keeps everybody healthier.”

  Piper walked to the bunks farthest away, near the back. The hallway was so narrow we had to go single file. There was an entire column empty on the right side, and the top bunk across the way also had its curtains drawn back. “These were the ones used by For by Four. They’re all yours now.” She tugged on me and whispered in my ear, “Since us girls have to stick together, I’d suggest getting the middle bunk. The bottom one vibrates a lot from being closer to the wheels, and the top bunk tends to sway more.”

  While my brothers were busy rock/paper/scissoring over who got what, I claimed the only free middle bunk by putting my stuff on it.

  “Thanks for the tip,” I told her as they grabbed the other beds. “If we’re going to be looking out for each other, you should probably stay away from anybody related to me.”

  “No warning necessary. They all look like trouble,” she told me with a conspiratorial smile, and I liked her even more. “Each one of your bunks has a flip-down TV and a DVD/CD player, along with power outlets for your phones, tablets, or laptops. And I’m sure you’ve all noticed how narrow this hallway is. If you ever find yourself going one way and somebody else is going the opposite, the preferred passing method is rear end to rear end.”

  I had to twist my lips together to keep myself from laughing. For some reason that struck me as really funny. That there was a rule about how to pass people in a hallway.

  My brothers lacked my maturity, and they all started to snicker.

  Piper either didn’t find it amusing or didn’t care. “It also means you can’t leave your shoes, instruments, or any other crap on the floor because somebody will trip over them in the middle of the night, and a fight will break out. Again, be considerate. Your bunk should also be the only place you sleep. If you pass out in a public space, you will not escape the wrath of a Sharpie marker. Unless your lifelong dream is for a photo of your face covered in obscene drawings to be posted online, always sleep in your designated bunk.”

  She started to walk down the hallway and suddenly stopped. I only barely missed crashing into her. “One more thing—always sleep with your feet facing the front of the bus. Accidents aren’t common, but if it does happen, you’ll save yourself from a neck injury.”

  Great. Now I’d be stressing about getting a neck injury and/or the bus getting into an accident.

  “Let’s keep going.” Piper opened the door at the end of the bunk alley. There was a much shorter, skinny hallway with a door on the left, a door on the right, and a door at the far end. Piper opened the door on the right, showing us a clean, nice-looking bathroom. “There are two bathrooms here. Trust me when I say you don’t want to ever use bus water. It comes from holding tanks at truck stops, and that should tell you all you need to know. There’s plenty of bottled water to drink and to use for brushing your teeth.”

  “So we shouldn’t shower here?” Parker asked. That put an image in my mind of Ryan De Luna, his hair wet from the shower, his sculpted chest glistening with drops of water—

  Piper answered, interrupting my brain’s idiotic tangent. “Definitely not. Whenever we arrive at the city we’re performing in, you’ll have hotel rooms for however long we’re there, and you can shower then. The buses are just for traveling. Anytime you get an opportunity to shower, do laundry, eat, or take a nap, you should always take it.”

  “But the toilets are okay?” That question came from Fitz.

  “The toilets work fine. But the number-one commandment of every tour bus for every tour of all time is this—thou shalt never, ever poop in the bathroom. Ever. For any reason. The smell is horrific, and it costs a lot more money to take care of fecal matter than just urine
. If you’re desperate, ask Vince to find a gas station as soon as possible. If you can’t hold it, you’re going to have to learn how to take a dump in a Ziploc bag. Same goes for puke.”

  There was no way I could poop in a Ziploc bag. To distract myself from how gross that was, I decided Piper probably should have added “Go poop” to her list of opportunities we should never turn down. “What about the door at the end?”

  “On the other buses, it’s another lounging area. On this one, though, it’s Ryan’s bedroom.”

  Now I had an image of Ryan sleeping in a big bed, which sent prickles all over my skin and caused a sensation in my gut that felt like ribbons curling and twisting.

  “Let’s head back to the front,” Piper said, and I felt actual disappointment that I wouldn’t get to see Ryan’s private sanctuary.

  Something was seriously wrong with me.

  When we got to the lounge, Piper took out a piece of paper from a plastic sleeve that was hanging next to the TV. “This paper will change every day. It will tell you when your sound check is, your set time, and the bus call time. Don’t ever be late. Time, tide, and tour bus wait for no man.”

  She put the paper back in the sleeve. “I know this probably all seems fun and cool, but honestly, tour buses are difficult. It’s kind of like being in a marriage with a bunch of other people without the benefits. You need to learn to give and take, communicate, and be respectful, and know that some battles aren’t worth fighting. They’re not paying you the big bucks to perform. You’d do that for free. They’re paying you the big bucks to ride this bus.”

  If that’s what I was getting paid for, it didn’t seem all bad. There were worse things in the world than getting to ride in a luxury bus that would take us all over the country and let us perform in front of thousands of fans. That giddy, excited feeling I’d had since talking to Ryan at the diner resurfaced, despite Piper’s warnings. This was what we’d always wanted. We were going on tour. We were being paid good money to play our music. Nobody could ruin that for me.

  “Do you guys have any questions?”

  “I have a question,” Cole said with his flirtation smile, and I shook my head in anticipation of whatever stupid thing he was about to say. “When are you and I going out?”

  Piper waited a couple of beats and then said, “I have a lot more to do before we leave. Give me a buzz if you have any real questions. Fitz has my number. And Cole? I never crap where I eat.”

  She walked off the bus, and Cole ran to the steps and yelled out, “I don’t crap where I eat, either! See? That’s something we have in common!”

  “Where do you think that saying comes from? Do you think at some point in time there was a major issue with people crapping in their kitchens?” Parker asked, completely missing the upset look on Fitz’s face. If Fitz thought Cole was interested in Piper, there’s no way he’d make a move.

  What Fitz had failed to take into account was that both Cole and Parker were interested in every female with a pulse in the entire world.

  “This is it,” I said, sitting down on the couch. “Bus sweet bus.” Fitz nodded and sat next to me while Cole and Parker messed around with the Xbox, trying to see if they could get it to turn on.

  In an effort to cheer up Fitz, I took the tinfoil off the brownies and offered him one. “Brownie?” Just as he took one off the top, the sounds of laughing male voices and stomping came from the bus steps.

  Ryan walked in the room, and my heart jumped into my throat with excitement. His eyes landed on me, and his feet followed until he stood directly in front of me. “I’m glad you guys made it! Hey, let me introduce everyone. The aloof Russian wearing headphones who is just passing through is Anton. Best DJ in the world, but he’s also part hibernating bear. When we’re not performing, he’s sleeping.”

  Anton, dressed in all black, made a small hand wave before heading into the bunk alley.

  “Maisy already knows Diego, but for everybody else, he’s my cousin and guitarist.” Diego smiled at me, and where the first night we’d met I thought he was cute, now he was just like this nonentity. He’d gone from the Guy I Could Possibly Be Interested In category to whatever category my brain put my brothers in.

  But Ryan had thought I was hitting on Diego. Did Diego think the same thing? Would I have to fend off his advances for this entire tour? I hoped not. Maybe I shouldn’t have made my brothers swear to back off guys they thought were hitting on me.

  “Deshawn is our drummer, and Marcus here is on keyboards, and that’s Billy, who plays guitars and is our music director. He makes us sound amazing every night. Guys, this is Fitz, Parker, Cole, and Maisy of Yesterday.”

  Everyone went around the room saying hello and shaking hands. I offered everybody a brownie, and it turned out to be a good icebreaker. Ryan’s bandmates talked with my brothers about how good they were, and then it was like people just paired up. Billy sat down next to Fitz and asked him about his sound plot so they could submit it to their sound engineer, Santiago.

  Cole started talking to Marcus about what kind of keyboard he was using onstage. “I’ve got Yamaha’s Montage 8 as my main one right now.” Cole’s eyes seemed to turn even greener with envy.

  Parker and Deshawn were bonding over jokes about lead singers. “How do you know when a lead singer’s at your front door?” Deshawn asked.

  My brother already knew the answer. “Because she can’t find the key and doesn’t know when to come in!”

  Which left me with Ryan and Diego. Which wasn’t at all awkward. I was about to ask Diego if he wanted a brownie, but he stared at me for a few seconds and then sat down with Billy and Fitz. I let out a sigh of relief at not having to deal with whatever that situation was yet.

  Ryan still stood in front of me, shifting from one foot to the other.

  “Brownie?” I was doing super great on the conversational front today.

  “No thanks.”

  I put the plate down on the table. Only two brownies left. Sad and forlorn and out of place. Kind of like what was happening to me right now with Ryan.

  “Did Piper give you the full tour?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Everywhere except your room.”

  “Oh.” He seemed to consider this. “Do you want to see it?”

  One part of me was like, Yes, yes, yes, I want to see where you live, and the other part was like, Why does this feel like a setup? I blamed my siblings for my overly suspicious mind.

  My brothers were all deeply engrossed in conversation, which was good because promise or no promise, Ryan might be lying flat on the floor right now.

  Especially if they’d heard my answer. “Okay.”

  I followed behind him, admiring his broad shoulders outlined in his dark-blue T-shirt. It wasn’t my fault; they were right in my eye line. I heard Anton snoring as we went down the bunk alley. Each doorway we walked through felt important, like it was offering me one last chance to say no, to turn back and not do anything foolish.

  Instead, I made sure to close the doors behind me.

  Every step caused blood to rush through my ears and my hands to tremble in anticipation. Obviously, nothing was going to happen, not with my brothers on the other end of the bus. Even though I was too old to feel this way, the nervousness was because I’d never been in a guy’s room before.

  Let alone with Ryan De Luna.

  He opened his bedroom door, and it just looked normal. There was a queen-size bed with a gray quilt and some massive black-and-gray pillows. His bed was surrounded by multiple built-in dark-wood cabinets and drawers. One of his custom Martin guitars stood upright on a guitar stand in the corner. There was also a desk with a mirror, a flat-screen TV, and a black overstuffed armchair. That seemed like the safest bet, and I sat in the chair while he jumped backward and sprawled on the middle of his bed.

  “What do you think of my room?”

  Ryan seemed totally at ease and comfortable, while I was having a mild heart attack. There was such a vast difference in what wa
s going on right now for both of us. Something new, thrilling, and slightly forbidden for me. For him? Having a girl in his room was probably so routine it didn’t even register. “What do I think? To be honest, I’m kind of surprised there’s not a stripper pole back here.”

  He laughed and turned on his side, propping up his head with his hand. “I could get one installed for you.”

  It wasn’t an offer. “Pass.”

  Now that we were here, I wasn’t quite sure what to say or do.

  Thankfully, as had been the case several times now, Ryan filled in the void. “This is the quietest place on the bus. If you ever need a place to escape or you want to compose or maybe need more room to sleep, you’re always welcome. I know how tiny those bunks are.”

  “Where would you sleep?” I had a pretty good idea where that would be.

  Predictably enough, he patted his bed. “I’m excellent at sharing.”

  “Say that where my brothers can hear you and you’ll lose the ability to father children.” He didn’t need to know that they’d said they’d back off. I didn’t know what was worse—that he was such a dog or that part of me wanted to accept.

  “You can trust me.” It would probably help his cause if he hadn’t winked at me while saying it.

  It would probably also help if I could stop picturing it. “Really? You must think I’m so naive,” I said, shaking my head, telling my excited hormones to knock it off.

  “I mean that totally innocently, I swear.” He even made the crossing motion over his heart while he grinned, and his hazel eyes danced.

  I wanted to be sucked in by the lie. I wanted to believe Ryan De Luna and I could date and maybe fall in love and possibly live happily ever after. I wanted to believe he wasn’t like every other musician I’d ever met.

  To believe I meant something to him. That this wasn’t about the conquest or notching or adding another stupid girl to his total.