hard

"I just didn't like it, Ed, just drop it."

You reached the tour bus first, Ed following close behind while he ran a white towel over his face and neck. Almost twenty minutes had passed since he'd been off stage, and you'd watched his set with Stuart and the rest of his team, every-so-often catching Ed smiling or winking at you. Though it was a few weeks into the tour, you'd only been with him for three days, and you would have joined him sooner if you'd been able to.

"That kind of thing happens all the time, you can't let it get you upset," Ed sighed, keeping his distance from you when you headed toward the back of the bus where the bedroom was.

The two of you were alone on the bus since it was just after the show and everyone else was still inside the venue. Ed tried to cover up the frustration pooling off of him when he followed you into the small bedroom, still with the towel slung across the back of his neck.

"Don't tell me I can't be upset that some girl practically groped you," you snapped, pulling your shirt over your head to trade it for one of Ed's that you'd sleep in.

"She didn't grope me," he shot back, recalling minutes before when he'd met a fan who'd somehow had backstage passes. The girl was around the same age as Ed, and although he'd never admit it to you, the fan had gotten a little too comfortable with where she placed her hands when Ed went in for a hug.

"She had your ass in her hands for a solid three seconds," you pulled your hair from the neckline of Ed's shirt, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at him. You knew it wasn't his fault she'd done it, but you despised how he ignored it, and that he didn't stop the girl when she trailed her hands behind him and downright frisked him.

"What?" he asked, taking a slow step forward, "Are you jealous?"

"I'm not jealous, you asshole," you bent to pluck off your socks, tossing them to the side of the room where Ed had flung the towel.

The last thing you wanted was an argument, but Ed couldn't find the wrong in what had happened. Part of you was jealous, but it was beside the point. With your hands unbuttoning your jeans, Ed's eyes followed while he plucked his black t-shirt off, the material darkened under the arms and over his torso with sweat. His hair stuck straight up from the dampness, and he ran his hand through the copper strands to settle them back into place.

"Yes you are," he almost barked, just after he straightened up from stepping out of his pants. You would've teased him for having to peel the black skinny jeans off his legs if you hadn't been arguing, knowing it was no easy feat getting them off his sweat covered skin.

"You are jealous, and I can tell because you just called me an asshole."

He inched toward you in nothing but his blue boxers and tattoos, his face hard and straight, frustrated with what he thought was an overreaction.

You shook your head, tucking your hair behind your ear as heat rose to your cheeks. Ed stepped closer, his blue eyes darkening when he'd realized that you couldn't stand to see another woman's hands on him whether it meant something or not. For being sweet and gentle close to ninety percent of the time, it ignited a little flame within you when he narrowed his eyes out of anger.

"I said I'm not jealous," you countered, "and I called you an asshole because you are one for not even attempting to stop her."

And then he was in front of you, standing so close you could feel his warm breath on your face, a hint of cigarettes lingering in the air between you from the one he smoked before going on stage hours earlier.

"If you think I liked it why don't you just say it," he spat, his hands sliding toward your wrists. You jerked them away before he could grip them the way you knew he wanted.