The melodies of our hearts

Chapter 6

The tour bus hummed along the open road, miles of forested landscape blurring past the windows. Lena sat with her notebook open on her lap, pen in hand, though she hadn't written a word since they left Seattle. Instead, she'd been watching Elliot. Every so often, he'd glance up from his phone, catching her gaze before looking away with the faintest hint of a smile, as if they shared a secret no one else on the bus could understand.

She turned her focus to her notes, trying to shake the warmth that settled over her every time he looked her way. The last thing she needed was to get distracted. This was an assignment, and she needed to stay focused, professional. But the memory of their morning conversation lingered, the vulnerability in his eyes, the quiet admission that he was starting to feel lost in his own life.

"Working hard, or hardly working?" Nate's voice broke her thoughts. He plopped into the seat across from her, grinning like he'd caught her in some mischievous act. She chuckled, closing her notebook with a sigh. "Trying to work hard. Not sure how well it's going." He smirked, giving her a pointed look. "I get it. Being around Elliot can be... distracting." She rolled her eyes, though she couldn't help but smile. "You're reading too much into it. We're just... friends. Barely that, really." "Sure, keep telling yourself that," he said, stretching his arms across the back of the seat. "I've seen the way he looks at you, you know. It's not just you doing all the staring." Her cheeks flushed, and she quickly glanced down, busying herself with her pen. "I'm just here to tell a story, Nate."

"Maybe," he said, tilting his head thoughtfully. "But stories like this don't come around every day. And neither does someone like Elliot." Before she could respond, the bus slowed down, pulling off at a roadside diner surrounded by pine trees. Mitch's voice echoed from the front, announcing a break to stretch and refuel. Lena welcomed the distraction, glad to step out into the cool air and breathe a little easier.

The group shuffled inside, and Lena found herself drifting to the edge of the crowd, lingering near the windows. The diner was cozy and warm, smelling of coffee and bacon, with vinyl booths and wood-paneled walls that seemed lifted straight from another era. She was busy studying the vintage signs on the walls when someone settled into the booth beside her.

"Mind if I join?" Elliot's voice was low, and she felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. "Not at all," she said, feeling her pulse quicken as he slid into the seat.

For a moment, they sat in silence, and Lena became acutely aware of how close he was, the heat radiating from his arm just inches from hers. She tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the menu. But then she caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of her eye, his brow furrowed as he studied her, as if trying to read the thoughts she hadn't spoken.

"Are you always this intense when you're working?" he asked, his tone light, though his gaze held something more. She laughed softly, grateful for the chance to break the tension. "You mean focused?" He smirked. "Maybe focused, maybe... distracted." She bit her lip, deciding to play along. "Well, it's hard to concentrate when I'm surrounded by rock stars." His expression softened, and he shook his head, leaning in just a bit. "Trust me, I'm not much of a rock star outside the stage."

The warmth in his voice surprised her. It was that same quiet vulnerability she'd seen the night before, like he was peeling back another layer, letting her see a part of him that he kept hidden from everyone else. She wanted to reach out, to ask him more about what weighed on him, but something told her to let the silence fill the space between them.

They ordered coffee and eggs, slipping into easy conversation about their favorite tour memories and strange road trip stops. Lena laughed as he shared stories of mishaps and late-night diner runs, his voice animated, his eyes alight with an energy she rarely saw outside the stage. It was easy to forget, just for a moment, that she was here on assignment—that there was a line she'd promised herself not to cross.

Just then, the door chimed, and a small group of fans entered the diner, looking around with wide eyes until they spotted the band. They looked young, starstruck, like they couldn't believe their luck. Elliot noticed them too, and a shadow flickered across his face, the light in his eyes dimming as he instinctively leaned back.

One of the girls approached cautiously, clutching a camera and glancing nervously between Lena and Elliot. "Um, sorry to interrupt, but... could we maybe get a picture with you?"            Elliot forced a smile, nodding politely. "Of course."

He stood, letting them crowd around him, the mask slipping back into place as he smiled for their phones and signed autographs. Lena watched, her heart sinking as she saw the tension creep into his posture, the way his gaze shifted, searching for an escape. He was gracious, kind even, but she could see the weight of it pulling him back behind the walls he'd just started to let down.

When he finally returned to the booth, the lightness from earlier had vanished, replaced by the familiar, guarded expression she was beginning to recognize too well. "Sorry about that," he murmured, stirring his coffee. "Guess privacy isn't really part of the job." Lena offered a soft smile, her voice gentle. "It must get exhausting, always having to be 'Elliot Wolfe' for everyone else." He let out a quiet sigh, his fingers tracing the edge of his coffee cup. "Yeah. Some days it's harder to keep track of where 'he' ends and I begin." He looked up, his gaze meeting hers, and for a moment, she could see all the weariness, the doubt he kept buried beneath the bravado.

"You know," she began carefully, choosing her words, "you don't have to be anyone but yourself around me. I'm not here to write a puff piece or some fluff story. I want to know the real you—if you're willing to share it."

The vulnerability in his eyes softened, and he nodded, a quiet gratitude flickering in his expression. "Thank you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sometimes... I don't even know who that is anymore. But I think... talking to you, it's helping me remember."

She felt her heart twist, realizing just how deeply he struggled with the persona he'd created. It was both his shield and his prison, and each time he stepped onto the stage, he was giving away pieces of himself that he might never get back.

The server brought their plates, and they fell into a comfortable silence as they ate, the weight of his words lingering between them. Lena didn't press him for more, sensing that he needed time, space to process what he'd shared. But in the quiet moments, she felt a growing ache, a pull toward him that was becoming harder to ignore.

As they finished their meal, Elliot reached across the table, his fingers brushing against hers as he grabbed the bill. The touch was brief, but it sent a jolt through her, a reminder of the connection they shared—a connection that felt as fragile as it was undeniable.

"Let me get this," he said, his voice low.

She didn't argue, though her pulse quickened at the thought of him noticing the way her hand lingered just a second too long. They settled up and left the diner, the crisp air a welcome relief as they walked back toward the bus.

When they reached the door, he paused, his hand resting on the railing as he turned to face her. "Thank you, Lena," he said quietly. "For... listening. For seeing me."

Her heart fluttered, and she managed a small smile, feeling the same warmth from earlier settle over her. "I'll always be here to listen, Elliot."

He nodded, his gaze lingering on hers a moment longer before he stepped onto the bus. She followed, taking her seat near the front as he disappeared to the back. The rest of the band filed in, and soon the bus was on the road again, the soft hum of the engine filling the quiet.

As the miles slipped away, Lena found herself drifting, her mind replaying the morning's conversation, the way he'd looked at her, vulnerable and open in a way that made her want to reach across the gap and pull him closer. It was dangerous, this feeling, this pull she couldn't shake. But something about Elliot Wolfe made her want to break every rule she'd ever set for herself.

She glanced toward the back of the bus, her heart pounding as she wondered just how much longer she could keep pretending that this was just a story—when, in her heart, she knew it was becoming so much more.

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