Page 5 of Layla

He grins, lifting up his shirt to wipe his face, giving the screaming crowd a last glimpse of his impressive six pack as he ducks into the wings behind me. “You like my sweat.”

I pretend to gag and he laughs. “Like you’re not just as sweaty.” He squints at me. “Actually, you’re even more sweaty. You were giving those drums a work out, weren’t you?”

I stop to grab a water bottle from one of the roadies. “Thanks, Cliff.”

He raises his hand for a fist bump. “Good show, Layla.”

Lance tugs on my arm to keep me walking and I follow the band out into the back hallway, which is thankfully free of Louis and the hulking security guy. “Seriously, though. What’d those poor drums ever do to you?”

“Guess I’m still pissed that Dylan ate my Frosted Flakes this morning.”

“Those were my Frosted Flakes!” he calls over his shoulder and Lance laughs as I raise my middle finger to Dylan’s back.

Lance stops to look down at me. “For real though—you okay?”

I am so not talking about this right here. And definitely not with Lance, or anyone else in the band. “Tired,” I tell him, smiling. “Nothing a few drinks and a warm body in my bed won’t cure.”

He rolls his eyes but continues on to the dressing room and I’m relieved. His girlfriend, Willa, is probably waiting in there, and he’ll forget all about my mood real quick. Sure enough, they’re already locking lips by the time I get there, only a few seconds after him. James is on the other side of the room, glaring at them, and I laugh to myself. Willa is James’s little sister, and it’s always fun to see him so worked up over their relationship. There’s little I find so amusing as James being a grumpy ass.

“Layla.” Louis is suddenly at my side and the laughter falls from my face. “Can you come to the office?”

“No,” I say sharply, not turning to face him.

“We need to—” I turn on my heel and head towards the food and drinks that have been spread out in the back of the dressing room. Of course, he follows me. “Layla.”

“You promised me we weren’t going to talk about this in front of them,” I hiss out of the side of my mouth.

“Which is why I want us to go to the office.”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, because that won’t look suspicious at all, me leaving to talk to you right after a show while everyone else parties.”

He watches in silence while I load up a paper plate with chicken wings and cookies. I’m always starving after a show. “Where is G.I. Joe, anyhow?”

“Meeting with the rest of the security staff.”

I blow out a breath, finally turning to face him. “Can we please not do this here?” I ask, voice low. He searches my face for a long moment before he finally nods.

“At the hotel, then.”

I scowl. “I wanted to go out tonight.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Not tonight. In fact, your going out habits are one of the things we need to discuss.”

I curse under my breath. “Fine. Just leave me alone right now, okay?”

He’s still doing that annoying face searching thing. He’s been doing it a lot lately, like he’s trying to figure out if I’m going to snap soon. Fat chance. “Okay. Enjoy the time with the band, get cleaned up, and we’ll talk at the hotel.”

“Can’t wait,” I say, sarcasm dripping from my voice. He doesn’t even roll his eyes at me, which is totally unlike him. The fact that Lou is clearly freaked out by this is not helping my own stress level.

Determined not to think about it until I absolutely have to, I grab my plate and a beer and head off in search of one of my bandmates.

* * *

An hour later,I’m running a towel through my wet hair when there’s a knock on my hotel room door. Figuring it’s one of my bandmates wanting to get a beer down at the bar, I grab a hotel robe from the bathroom and head to the door.

“I’m in for the night,” I say as I swing the door open, then freeze when I see it’s not Dylan or James.

The beefy guy from before takes a step back, his eyes widening just a bit. “I’m sorry,” he says, the low rasp of his voice scrapping against my ears, causing goosebumps to erupt over my still wet skin. “Louis said to meet here. I thought it was his room.”