by Caisey Quinn
Maybe it was better when he didn’t show. Big Red was inching closer to Trace by the second. Hello, desperate much? Ugh. Kylie was too keyed up to go sit on the bus anyways.
“So what’s it like going from waitressing to this?” a deep voice asked from behind her.
Kylie whirled around to see who the speaker was. Steven, her hero for the night. She grinned up at him, though still slightly embarrassed about the scene he’d witnessed earlier.
“Haven’t really had a free second to think about it,” Kylie told him, leaning back so she could get a good look at him. Lulu would’ve swooned all over herself.
“Kylie Ryans, not just a waitress, even though that’s how she introduced herself as she was backing away from me,” he read from a copy of Country Weekly.
“What? Where does it say that?” She made a grab for the magazine but the tattooed Adonis before her lifted it just out of her reach and kept reading.
“But though she seems modest and shy at first glance, don’t be fooled. On stage she transforms into a vixen, full of swagger with a deep southern sound that will captivate any audience.”
“Does it seriously say that?”
“Wait, there’s more,” he told her, holding up a hand. “Kylie has confessed to having a thing for tatted up musicians, specifically those in country rock crossover bands.”
“Let me guess. Hero for a Night specializes in country rock crossover?” She couldn’t help but grin.
“Thankfully, yes. Quite a coincidence, huh?”
Kylie rolled her eyes and turned to leave. She really wanted to get back to the bus so she could get online and find out how she ended up in Country Weekly.
“Hey wait, you want this?” he asked, stretching the magazine out to her.
“Um, I don’t want to take it from you since you carry it around and all,” Kylie told him with a smile.
Steven laughed and handed it to her. “Nah, I’m not much of a reader. Just grew up with Trace and heard some girl he was touring with might be mentioned in this issue. Wanted to see if this Michael Miller dude knew what he was talking about.”
“And did he?”
“Yeah, I think he did.” He looked around and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Actually I was going to see if you wanted to come to a party with me now that you’re all done here, and Trace is behaving himself.”
“Um, I don’t think—”
“Don’t think you’d be safe with a tatted up guitar player? You might be right,” he told her with a wink.
“Hardly. It’s just, I’m not really sure if my, um, Pauly, would be okay with that.” On one hand, a party sounded kind of fun and it would probably be a lot better than the ones back home. And it would definitely be better than witnessing the Trace and Big Red flirtfest. But on the other hand, she didn’t know this guy or the area. Probably not a great idea to go off on her own.
“Okay, well, your Pauly could come too. That your boyfriend?” Something dark flashed across his handsome face, but he smiled.
“No, he’s my, I mean Trace’s, manager.” Saying Trace’s name out loud forced him to the forefront of her mind. She glanced over her shoulder to see him laughing and tossing back shots with the redhead. The blondes were nowhere to be seen.
“Well, if he’s hanging with Shelby, he’ll be at the same party we’re going to. Surely if he can go you can too, right?”
Kylie watched as Trace helped Shelby off her stool and they headed out of the bar. Excellent point. “Can’t see why not,” she answered with a shrug.
“Sweet. I need a Ladderball partner.” Steven draped an arm over Kylie’s shoulders and steered her towards the exit.
“I have to be back to the bus before tomorrow morning. We leave at six.”
“I’m scandalized,” he said dropping his arm, mouth gaping open at her. “Here I am asking you to a party for a few drinks and some innocent Ladderball, and you’re suggesting a sleepover? I barely know you.”
“Shut up. You know what I meant!” Kylie shoved him lightly, but she was kind of glad he’d dropped his heavy arm off of her shoulders.
“Uh huh. I know how you famous types are. I’ll probably wake up tomorrow feeling used and alone.”
“And wondering where your wallet is,” she added with a mischievous grin. “Wait, I have a question. What the hell is Ladderball?”
LADDERBALL, as it turned out, was much harder than it looked. Especially after a few shots of something purple that made the Earth tilt. And it didn’t even involve a ladder, which made it all the more confusing.
Kylie and Steven played against the lead singer of Hero for a Night, Ben, and his girlfriend, a raven-haired chick named Gina. It looked like PVC pipe and balls on a string, but there was some complicated scoring system and Kylie couldn’t keep track of who was winning.
“Are we winning?” she asked her new friend, who was swigging his Michelob from the bottle and smiling at her with a playful gleam in his eyes.
“No, darlin’. We’re pretty much getting killed,” he told her with a shrug. Gina high-fived Ben and did something that looked like a drunken victory dance.
“Can we go play something else?” She had seen some couples playing beer pong and a bunch of girls playing flip cup, and she’d rather play either.
“We can go find an empty room and play doctor if you’d like,” he said quietly.
Kylie’s head swam. She didn’t really know where she was, only that they had walked to the party from the bar. Dread and regret pressed down on her. “Actually I need to find a restroom,” she informed him.
“Come on, I’ll show you.” He reached a hand out to her, so she took it. Kylie played it cool as Steven led her up the stairs to a tight hallway, though the whole night was starting to seem like a pretty shitty idea. Just before she started to panic and flee back downstairs, he gestured to a door on the right where two girls were propped on the other side, looking moments away from puking.
She did have to pee, but she also wanted to text Pauly the address and ask him to come get her. Steven seemed harmless enough, but it was nearing two in the morning and the crowd was thinning out. Kylie had heard enough stories from girls at her high school about what happened at college parties. At the very least it was going to get awkward. And she was tired and pretty heavily buzzed.
Just as she pulled out her phone, a Hispanic guy with a buzz cut burst out of the bathroom, sending the other two girls in line reeling backward. “You do not want to go in there ladies. Sorry,” he said before staggering toward the stairs.
“Oh gross,” one of the girls groaned as she peeked into the restroom.
“I know where there’s another one,” Steven told her, taking Kylie by the elbow.
The other restroom was down another dark hallway and through a messy bedroom. Kylie darted in quickly so Steven couldn’t follow. As soon as she’d closed the door, she pulled out her phone and started to text Pauly. Except, oh for heaven’s sakes, she’d forgotten to get the address from Steven first.
“Hey, Steven?” she called out.
“Need some TP?” he answered back.
“Uh, no. I was just wondering, whose house is this exactly?”
“It’s the Phi Kap house, why?”
Okay, that was less than helpful. But Pauly was smart. Surely he could figure it out. “So, are you like a brother here?”
His deep melodic laughter sounded from the other side of the door. “Nah, some buddies of mine from high school are brothers here. I’m not really the college type, sweetheart.”
Kylie prickled a little at this random dude calling her sweetheart. After a minute passed, he called out, “Everything okay in there?”
“Peachy, thanks.” She peed quickly and washed her hands, leaving the water on as she texted Pauly. I’m at the Phi Kap house (?) and am not sure how to get back to the bus. Don’t really know anyone well enough to ask for a ride or walk back. Come get me? At least that’s what she’d tried to text, but the new phone Pauly had
given her was touch screen and her hands were still damp…and she was maybe more drunk than buzzed.
The message she actually sent looked more like Im a Phkao ?? not sure how bus don’t kno anyone enough ride back come gee mee?
“Kylie?”
“Be out in sec.”
The thought of stepping out into that dark bedroom with an extremely sexy and very intimidating stranger twice her size, that she barely knew, was making Kylie nauseous. Or maybe it was the shots. Or the beer. She splashed some water on her face and tried to recall the saying Lulu was always reciting at parties about beer and liquor. Which order meant you were in the clear and which one made you sicker?
She stared into the mirror waiting for her reflection to be still.
“Hey, there’s someone in there. What the hell are you—”
Kylie heard a man swearing outside the bathroom door as she tried to focus on the screen of her phone. God, why wouldn’t Pauly just text her ba—
The bathroom door burst open and she jumped to avoid getting hit. Trace stood there, eyes blazing and chest pumping. Steven was behind him, holding his shoulder and looking pissed.
“Let’s go,” Trace growled at her.
What the hell was he doing here? She decided to ask him. “What the hell are you doing here?”
He stared at her as if he was gaging her blood alcohol content with his eyes. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s go.”
“Um, okay. I texted Pauly and—”
“Kylie, we’re leaving now. Either you can walk or I can carry you out.”
Before she could really process what he was saying, Steven stepped inside the now way overcrowded bathroom. “She’s fine, man. I can get her back to the bus before—”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence before Trace’s knuckles connected with his mouth.
And then Kylie was airborne and upside down over Trace’s shoulder. As they bounced down the stairs, she felt the vomit rising in her throat. Oh God. She was about to puke on last year’s Country Music Artist of the Year. In front of an entire fraternity. Definitely not her finest moment.
“Put me down,” she ordered as soon as they were outside.
He didn’t. Instead he asked her a question through clenched teeth. “What the hell were you thinking?”
She groaned and closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to watch the sidewalk blurring by. Though it meant giving up an excellent view of Trace Corbin’s ass. “Right now I’m thinking I’m going to be sick.”
Thankfully, he set her down gently on the sidewalk. Kylie leaned towards the bushes lining the concrete and violently relieved her stomach of the chicken salad sandwich she’d eaten before performing. And all of the purple stuff she’d drank, judging from the looks of it.
“Oh my God,” she moaned when she was finished. This was why she was always Lulu’s DD.
She stood up and felt her hair fall around her. Trace must’ve been holding it. The sweet acidic smell of vomit wafting from the bushes was too much. She took a few wobbly steps backward, strong arms steadying her from behind. “Well, at least I didn’t puke on you,” she said, looking up into his face. The hat he wore cast a shadow making it impossible to see his eyes. For some reason this bothered her. He had the prettiest eyes.
“Yeah, thanks. This is my favorite shirt.”
Kylie glanced at the faded plaid button up he wore. “Why?”
“Wow, even drunk you’re snide and hateful. I’m impressed.”
She flushed and fumbled for an apology. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s okay. That’s one of the things I like about you actually,” he told her with a shrug.
Her skin prickled but she wasn’t sure why. It was pretty warm out and there wasn’t even a breeze or a chill in the air. The extreme awkwardness of the situation settled between them as they walked away from the fraternity house. “So…did you score with Red?”
Trace turned to face her but kept walking. “Who?”
“The redhead you left the bar with. Shelby?” Kylie hoped it sounded like she was just making casual conversation. She was irritated and had no clue as to why.
Trace laughed so loud it made her head hurt a little. “No. Why? You jealous?”
Her face went hot and she knew it was probably glowing with humiliation. Thank goodness it was dark out and the streetlamps dotting their path weren’t bright enough for him to see her. Because oh hell. She was jealous. And very stupid, apparently.
“Yeah, I am. I’m really into redheads.” She prayed he would just drop it. No such luck. He stopped dead in his tracks behind her. “Joke,” Kylie assured him, turning to grin at his slightly open mouth.
“Hey, it’s okay by me if you’re into girls,” he told her as he began walking again. “It would explain why you seem to be repelled by me. Actually, it would do wonders for my ego.”
AS they climbed onto the bus, Trace offered her a hand. Even hazy from the alcohol, she was aware that his touch singed every nerve ending in the palm of her hand to life. She overheard Pauly arguing with someone on the phone. Or at least, she assumed he was on the phone and not shouting at someone in person. Thankfully his room was up front so she wouldn’t have to deal with him too. She desperately needed to brush her teeth and wash her face. A shower sounded great but like it might be too much work. Being drunk was exhausting.
Trace helped her back to her room. She turned to thank him but he disappeared out the door before she could say anything. Stripping off her clothes, she decided to take a shower after all. She grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her. Just as she reached to open her door, it slid away from her.
“Thought you might—” Trace began but stopped when he took in Kylie’s state of undress.
“Um, thanks,” she told him, reaching out to take the bottle of water he held in his outstretched hand.
Her towel slipped down a few inches as she sipped the water. She couldn’t help but notice that Trace looked away. She remembered his words from earlier. He was wrong. She wasn’t repelled by him. In fact, judging from the way he was refusing to look at her, even to so much as sneak a peek, it seemed more like it must be the other way around.
AFTER a hot shower, she felt a lot better. Still slightly woozy, but better. Mentally berating herself for getting into such a stupid situation, she pulled on a tank top and a pair of girly boxers. Steven had seemed nice, but something about the look on his face when she’d mentioned Pauly and the playing doctor comment had made her uncomfortable. Thank goodness Trace had shown up when he did.
Just as she was about to lie down, she realized she hadn’t ever actually thanked him. Punching the poor guy was probably over the line, and her less than graceful exit had kind of pissed her off and made her sick, but Kylie knew good intentions when she saw them. She owed him a thank you. She hated owing people. So she threw the covers off and got out of bed.
She crept out into the hall and past the kitchen. Trace’s door was shut but she could see light from underneath. Just go back to bed and thank him tomorrow. But she really didn’t want to mention this night ever again. So she knocked softly.
“Come in,” she heard a muffled voice say.
A small lamp on the bedside table and the bluish glow of a flat screen television lit the room. It took her eyes a few seconds to adjust. But when they did, oh. Oh. Trace sat shirtless in a chair by the enormous bed. He had taken one boot off and was working on the second.
“Hey,” she began as the entire purpose for this late night visit slipped right out of her mind. His second boot hit the floor with a soft thud.
“Hey,” Trace answered, standing and shoving his hands in his pockets. “What can I do for you?”
“Um, wow, your room is huge,” she blurted out.
Trace chuckled softly. “Yeah, for a bus I guess it is.”
Fill the awkward silence, idiot, a voice in her head commanded. “Um, so how’d you get to the party so fast?” she asked.
Trace’s eyes tightened. “Uh, Red
, as you called her, gave me a tour of the campus. I’d just dropped her off at her dorm when Pauly forwarded your text. I was actually just about to pass by there.”
“Oh, well um, I’m glad.” Oh crap, that made it sound like she was glad he wasn’t with Red. Which she was. But no need for him to know that. “I mean, I’m glad you happened to be nearby. Not that I wasn’t okay or anything, but I didn’t exactly know how to get back to the bus.”
“Okay,” he said evenly, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that had her backing up.
Okay, Kylie, just say what you came to say and freaking leave already. “Why did he send my text to you?”
Trace smiled. “Probably because I speak fluent drunk in person and on text, and he knew I was on campus.”
Jesus. Her text had alerted Pauly that she was drinking. Great. “Oh. Was it that bad?”
He didn’t answer her question, just slid his phone off the night table and touched the screen a few times. Before Kylie had time to figure out what he was doing, he handed it to her.
The jumble of letters looked nothing like what Kylie had meant to send. “I told Pauly I didn’t need a new phone.” Even though she kind of did since her refurbished hand-me-down from Lulu barely held a charge. The man had insisted, saying they would take it out of her tour pay. She suspected he was lying.
Trace smirked at her. “Uh huh, ‘cause the phone made you drink or what?”
“You know, I’m starting to think you should’ve been a comedian.”
“Maybe in my next life,” Trace said with a sad smile that she couldn’t understand. “Is that what you came to tell me?”
“Not exactly.”
Trace cleared his throat and Kylie wondered how many girls he’d had in that huge bed. At least one that she knew of—the American Idol chick. Kylie had Googled her. Mia Montgomery. She was pretty. Okay, gorgeous. The official release said she had left the tour for personal reasons. Well, Pauly seemed to know exactly what had happened, so it wasn’t that personal after all.
“It’s late, sorry. I should get back to my room.” Kylie reached back for the door handle.