Page 69 of Layla

Layla

John is watching me.

Which isn’t anything new—that’s his freaking job, after all—but itfeelsdifferent. Every time I look up, his eyes are on me, his gaze warm, expression intense. He doesn’t look like he’s just doing his job.

He’s looking at me like he wants toseeme.

When I think about what happened yesterday, there’s a part of me that’s still pissed. He had no right to make me feel bad about hanging out with Conner and he definitely had no right to put his hands on the guy. But I can admit to myself that a lot of my anger has more to do with my own hurt feelings. He rejected me after that kiss, and it sucked.

There’s also a healthy dose of guilt mixed in—I shouldn’t have tried to make myself feel better in the arms of another guy. I know better than that. It hadn’t even felt good, flirting with Conner. It certainly hadn’t felt good to hear the pain in John’s voice when he asked me not to go into my room with him. But I’d done it anyway, and that made me feel the worst of all.

But I hadn’t slept with Conner. At least I had that going for me—I didn’t fall into bed with the first guy who would have me just because John hurt my feelings.

The nauseating swirl of all of those emotions—the anger and hurt and guilt—had kept me up most of the night. At the time, I was so thankful to Dylan for rescuing me. But he’s been watching me a lot today, too. And unlike John, his gaze seems suspicious. Worried.

All of that shit in my head paused when I realized the charity Louis had taken us to. It was obvious to every person in our band that he picked it for me. I could feel them holding their breath when we arrived, waiting for me to react. I didn’t blame them. I hated talking about the shit from my past. I hated how vulnerable it made me feel. How much shame and anger I still have over the things I had been through. The band was probably waiting for me to get pissed at Lou for shoving it in my face.

But I didn’t feel that way, not at all. Louis organized it because he knew it would mean something to me. He knows just how much of my considerable income is donated to charities just like the one he took us to. I’m pretty sure he can sense how guilty I still feel that I’m one of the few lucky ones to make it out. Maybe he’s even guessed how completely inadequate I feel to be the one Dee rescued.

I wouldn’t put it past him, to understand all that without me telling him. Louis knows us all a hell of a lot better than we’d like to believe. And he has our back way more than we give him credit for.

Giving Louis a hard time is like second nature to us. But that doesn’t mean we don’t love him. And as annoyed as he constantly is with us, I know he loves us too.

“You with us?” Lance asks quietly. I blink over at him and see the rest of the band is watching me, too, their expressions cautious.

“Sorry,” I mutter, embarrassed by the sentimental turn of my thoughts right before a performance. “Zoning out.”

The fact that none of them rag on me for it means they’re all still concerned about the visit to the charity earlier. But they won’t say anything to me about it. They know I would hate that.

“Set list?” I ask James pointedly. I’m pretty sure that’s what this pre-show meeting is about. When James is involved, set list bickering is a pretty good bet.

“We wanted to move “Get Me” up front,” Haylee says, and from the careful tone of her voice I know this isn’t the first time one of them has said this. “Is that cool with you?”

“Get Me” has my most complicated solo, and I usually like to get into it later in the set, once I’m more warmed up. But it’s one of our highest energy songs, and it definitely helps to amp things up when we open with it.

“Sure,” I say, trying to ignore the way they’re all stealing glances at me from the corner of their eyes. Like they’re just waiting for me to freak out. Feeling exposed, I look away from the group, only to see John across the room.

Watching me. Again.

His gaze also makes me feel exposed, but in a completely different way.

I drag my attention back to the band as they all huddle up, putting their hands in the middle of the circle for our pre-show ritual.Just get through this show, I tell myself. We only have a week of touring left, and then we’re back in LA for a few weeks for the holidays. I’ve been planning on bringing Dee out, and the thought has me feeling calmer than I have in a while.

Just get through this show,I repeat in my head as we finish up our huddle.Just get through this week.

We pass John on our way out on stage and our gazes collide. Something in his expression sends my stomach somersaulting—a feeling that doesn’t go away for the entire set. It doesn’t help that I catch sight of him more than once, watching from the wings. And when we take our break between sets, he’s there, too, standing in the back in the dark. Watching.

“What are we up to tonight?” Dylan asks as we make our way to the dressing room after the encore. “Last night in Miami.” He slaps Lance on the back. “Should we hit some clubs?”

“Simon and Willa are here.”

Dylan makes a face. “You’re such an old man,” he mumbles, turning to the rest of us and scowling when he sees James has abandoned us for a groupie across the room. “Haylee? You up for it?”

“I have a video chat date.” She waggles her eyebrows to let him know exactly what kind of date it’s going to be.

He groans. “That is a mental image I did not need.” He shoots me a hopeful glance. “I know you won’t let me down, Layla. You have a reputation to uphold.”

I catch John’s eye over the back of Dylan’s head. For once, the thought of a crowded club does not appeal to me. It’s been an emotionally exhausting few days. I know John will insist on coming, and he’ll be stressed the whole time, and that will make me feel even more anxious.