I wave at the crowd before running backstage, handing my monitor off to someone on crew and going back to the green room. Wilbur asked me to fill in for his opener last minute again, but of course I don't mind. Tonight is the last show of his tour in New Jersey, so we'll be back home tomorrow. I know his manager only wants me to do it for PR, but I'll take what I can get.
"You can go ahead back to the hotel." Wilbur tells me, sitting on the couch and tuning his guitar.
I shake my head and sit on the opposite end, chugging from my bottle of water. "It's fine. I'll watch your show."
He gives me a quick glance before nodding. While he waits for his cue to go on, I go on my phone and check my Instagram. This morning, Wilbur posted a story from our dinner last night, showing our bowls and just my hand, my username tagged in the corner. Of course, this gained me a bunch of new followers, so it was the perfect time to announce that Long Sleeves, the song Wilbur produced, is coming out tomorrow night. Hopefully, that can mean we're done with our fake relationship. But I have to admit, I miss our kiss from yesterday.
Finally, he's told it's time to go out. I watch as he leaves and shuts the door behind him, leaving me alone in the room. I turn my attention to the TV that shows the stage, seeing the lights dim and the fans go wild, chanting his name. One day, I'll have a full venue of people do that for me. One day.
Once again, his show is incredible, and he's fun to watch, but it's strange. And hurts a bit. He's so happy and light on the stage, even though all of his songs are depressing as hell. It would be nice for him to show an ounce of that personality towards me. But why do I care? After this is all over, he'll go back to being my loud, annoying neighbor, who just happens to be the hottest guy I've ever seen.
To add to our 'fling', I take out my phone and record a few seconds of the TV and post it on my story with a red heart in the corner.
One he's done and back in the green room, he's immediately ready to leave. We do have to wait a few minutes for most of the crowd to leave, but we finally get out the back.
As we're walking out, we hear cheering, and Wilbur immediately grabs my hand. I look over to see a wall of fans pressed against a fence, manically waving and yelling at us. At Wilbur, not me. They don't care about me. In fact, many of them hate me. I've already received a wonderful amount of death threats for daring to get close to Will, but whatever. Any kind of engagement gets people to my account.
The hotel we're at is right next to the venue, where more fans are lined up. Someone on Wilbur's team gets us checked in, and he suddenly whispers something to Will.
"Are you fucking serious?" He mutters. "Just buy another room."
"I don't care that they're full, I'm not doing it."
"This is ridiculous! Let's just find another hotel."
Finally, he sighs, giving up. "Fine," He looks down at me. "Not enough rooms and somehow we didn't book the right amount. I'll sleep on our couch."
"Oh," I mumble, not too excited to share a room with his grumpy ass. "Okay."
Security leads us to our row of rooms, not allowing any fans to get an idea of where we are. I pull my small suitcase into our room and set it next to the bed.
"Wonderful."
I follow Wilbur's glance and see a small armchair in place of a couch. I can't help but laugh at our sad situation. "At least the bed is huge."
"We couldn't get a hotel that has a fucking couch?" He whines, tossing his bag down on the chair.
"Chill out. It's one night." I walk over to the heater, seeing it's broken. "Okay, maybe this hotel does suck. Fuck, it's cold."
"Put on a jacket."
"Thanks, you're so much help." I roll my eyes. "I didn't pack one. It's August, I expected heat."
"You dress like a man every day but couldn't bother to pack a hoodie?"
I lower my brows at him. "How does that even make sense? Could you not?"
Wilbur just stares at me for a second before going in his bag then throwing a large, blue sweatshirt at me. "There,"
"It's fine, I'll be okay."
"No, wear it. I don't need to hear you complain all night."
Right now, I honestly think I could strangle him. Instead, I pull on the sweatshirt, smelling of cologne and slight cigar smoke. I go into the bathroom and wipe off my makeup before sitting on the bed, Wilbur sat in the chair. I reach into my bag and pull out my bag of edibles, taking out a few for myself and motioning the bag towards Wilbur.
"Want any? They're strong."
He looks at me then the bag and smirks. "Those look like shit."
"Fine, screw me for being nice to you." I mumble, pulling the bag back, but he quickly reaches out.
"Thank you," Wilbur takes a few before tossing the bag back at me.
I dramatically gasp as I hide the bag again. "Did... did you just thank me? How painful was it for you to be nice to me?"
"Felt like war," He gives a small grin, staring at his phone.
We both eat our snacks, silently scrolling through our phones as we wait for it to kick in. Finally, I begin feeling a bit strange, and set my phone down.
"I'll set up a barricade." I announce, lining up pillows on the middle of the bed, all the way to the end. "Not taking any chances. Especially with how tall you are."
"Now you're the one being rude."
"Get over it," I grab the remote and turn the TV on, flipping through each channel until I find one slightly interesting.
