The Rocker's Muse

Her scrunchie wrapped around my wrist.

CHAPTER 7

TRISTAN

The morning sun stung my eyes as I opened the shade on my bedroom window.

We’d rolled into Illinois overnight. We’d be playing at an arena in Chicago tomorrow evening, and I planned to spend today and tomorrow resting my voice and trying to get my head in the zone after my terrible performance in Minneapolis. There was no choice—I simply had to get it together.

Ronan burst into my room without knocking.

Why do I keep forgetting to lock that damn door?

“Hey, dude.” He plopped down on my bed. “What was up with you last night?”

My stomach sank. I wasn’t sure whether he was referring to my performance or something else. “What in particular?” I asked.

“You were all bitchy to everyone. Then you kicked those girls out of your room and left the bus. Don’t think I don’t have my eyes on you.”

“Pretty amazing that you were tracking my whereabouts while you had a girl face down on your lap. You’re multitalented.”

“Ambi-DICK-strous.” He winked. “What is that?” He looked toward my hand.

Shit. I hadn’t realized I was playing with Emily’s scrunchie again. I’d slept with it around my wrist. “None of your business is what it is…”

“You’re hiding something. I can see it in your face. Who does that belong to? None of the girls who come on the bus wear those in their hair.” He squinted. “But more than that… I noticed it wrapped around your wrist when you came back to the bus last night.”

“How the hell did you catch that?”

“I told you. I have eyes on the freaking back of my head. I see everything, brother.” Ronan smirked. “You were with someone…”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You hooked up with someone when you left the bus, and you don’t want to tell me? That’s shady as hell.”

“I didn’t hook up with anyone.”

“Then whose hair thingy is that?”

One thing I knew about Ronan, he wasn’t going to let up. He would stay here and keep prying ad nauseum until I told him the truth. And he’d start getting other people involved for entertainment. The more I denied it, the harder he’d push. It would be easier to just admit the truth.

“I went over to the other bus to hang out for a while. I needed a breather from this one last night. That’s it.”

“You didn’t answer my question, though. Whose hair tie is that?”

“It’s Emily’s.” I swallowed.

“The cute girl who fetches shit for us?”

His comment offended me. “She’s more than just cute. She’s bright…witty. Way smarter than the airheads we normally encounter on the road.”

“So you went to visit her on the other bus…”

“I think she’s cool, yeah. I was chatting with her and started twirling this thing around my fingers. I accidentally walked away with it, which is why you saw it on my wrist. Sorry to disappoint you, but you’re not going to find anything salacious about that.”

He scratched his chin. “Hmm…”

“Hmm, what?”