That Voice

Chapter 4

—1 year later— 

Luke’s P.O.V. 

One year can change a person so much…for the better or for the worse.  Since the day after my brother’s wedding, we have been on many tours around Europe with big name bands like Hot Chelle Rae and One Direction.  It is still early in our career and the manager says to expect more opportunities like this.  But, for me—and probably the rest of the guys—this whole experience has been surreal so far and we can’t wait to continue being on stage and doing what we love.  

One thing I think we all miss is the fact of having no family around, but the guys are basically my second family, so we lean on each other for support.  It does suck having no one to give you home-cooked meals after a big show or having no one to give you a big hug and tell you that “everything is gonna be okay” if something ever went wrong.  

Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy and living the dream, but something was just missing in this tour and for the life of me, I could’t figure out what.  I mentally shrugged and stored it in a file cabinet in my brain to worry about later.  I’ve learned after my year of touring to live in the moment and enjoy it.  So, that’s what I do.

I was sitting and fiddling with my phone in my hotel room in New York that I shared with Ash when he popped into our room and called out, “Lukey?” I flopped over on my bed and he grinned.  I looked up at him with tired eyes.  

He was wearing a baseball-type tee shirt with the typical holes in them, traditional black skinny jeans with casual thongs (flip-flops), and a red bandana pushing back his hair.  He leaped and landed on top of me and I groaned as his knee dug into my ribcage.  

Pushing him off, I moaned, “What do you want Ash?  I’m tired.”

 He just rolled his eyes and started poking his finger into my chest as he said, “The executive of the label wants to have a meeting with us in 10 minutes and we really have to make a good impression on her so…let’s not be late…again.”  

That got my attention.  She never called us for a meeting unless something important was happening.  I shielded my eyes from the sun coming in through the blinds and asked, “What for?” 

Ashton simply shrugged and smirked as he said, “I don’t know, but it sounded big, so you might want to get off your ass and get crackin’.” 

 I blew out an exasperated breath of air and Ashton rolled off of me. “And brush your teeth, too.  We don’t want her to pass out from your morning breath.”  He turned and dodged an airborne black Converse shoe I had chucked at him.  

I got up off the bed at a sloth-like speed and changed into a black singlet showcasing the band “The 1975” on it with the uniform ripped, black skinny jeans and black Vans—since Ashton took the shoe I threw at him outside just to be a dick.  I did as suggested and brushed my teeth quickly and styled my hair in the mirror before meeting up with the rest of the guys in the hallway.  They looked just as confused as to why we were being called out by the label, but acted like they had been waiting for hours instead of minutes by checking their invisible watches.