"So... who are you with?" The burly security guard steps forward, barring your way.
"I'm with the band," you say, your voice loaded with suggestiveness, and it doesn't go unnoticed.
He raises an eyebrow, taking in your too-tight dress and cherry red...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The smell of burnt toast and coffee and the sound of brash male chatter drifts up the narrow stairway as me and Johnny descend. I take a deep breath as I slip my arm from out of his just in time for us to step down into the tourbus living area. The fact I'm wearing nothing but his Pogues t-shirt is likely to stir up plenty of speculation about where I spent the night so I don't want to aggravate things further by suggesting that we're so intimately cosy together that we've been doing anything other than innocently sleeping.
"Brace yourself love," Johnny whispers with a quiet snigger as several pairs of eyes fix on us. I note Larry's are narrowed in suspicion so I purposefully look away, only to meet Van's sullen glare.
He's standing shirtless at the kitchenette counter, holding a bowl of cereal in one hand with his spoon frozen midway to his mouth in the other. His eyes flick to the t-shirt I'm wearing then further down to my injured knees, then across to Johnny before they're back on mine. They're blazing with a possessive kind of fire that I probably shouldn't find as hot as I do.
"There she is," he announces loudly, a sharpness to his tone that makes me wince. "Been looking for you all over... should've guessed you'd gone and shacked up with someone. Sleep well did ya?"
I smirk at the bitter edge in his voice, pushing past him to the fridge to retrieve a bottle of water. "I did actually, thanks for asking Van. Best sleep I've had all week."
"We were only sleeping mate," Johnny sighs, addressing Van even though he's looking straight at Larry.
Larry just huffs and shoots me a look that tells me I'm in for another one of his lectures later. I feel my heart sink. Johnny slinks past, head down, making for the coffee machine.
"So what passes for breakfast on here then?" I try for a distraction, eyeing the blackened toast on Benji's plate with distaste. "I've got a very sensitive palate, I've got to be careful what I eat."
"Errr... toast?" Benji says doubtfully, lifting up a slice as if he's offering me a bite.
I recoil, twisting the lid off my water bottle and taking a sip of that instead. "You call that toast? Looks more like charcoal. Yuck."
"Let this be your introduction to Van's cooking skills," Bob chuckles from his spot by the kettle. "I'm just making a cuppa... d'ya want one?"
"Ooh, yes please... plenty of milk... no sugar... don't leave the teabag in for too long."
I smile sweetly at Bob, ignoring Van's grumbling about how to make a proper cup of tea when my attention's taken by my phone vibrating with an incoming text. I lean back against the counter, chanting a silent prayer in my head that it's not Portia informing me that she's arrived in Glasgow early. I'm pleasantly surprised to find out that it's not.
Sam: Morning trouble. You there yet? We're just at the services outside Glasgow. Wondered if you fancied some company today? x
My stomach flips in excitement and a slow grin spreads across my face. Van notices and his casual stance changes in an instant, his cereal bowl abandoned on the countertop as he shuffles closer to loom over me.
