Chapter 10: On Tour
922 Words
Two days later, Maya found herself on a tour bus that smelled faintly of coffee, leather, and too many hours on the road. The seats were wide, the curtains thick, and the hum of the engine underlined every conversation. Horizon had arranged a small string of shows, warm-up venues, Adrian had called them, before the main tour kicked off.
“This isn’t the glamorous kind,” Liv warned as she tucked her keyboard case into a corner. “Half-empty bars, dodgy sound checks, long drives. Welcome to the grind.”
Maya smiled, sliding into a seat with her notebook. “That’s exactly what I want.”
Adrian appeared from the back of the bus, black hoodie pulled low, guitar case slung over his shoulder. He scanned the cabin and his eyes landed on her, a flicker of recognition he didn’t bother hiding. He sat across the aisle, close enough that she could feel the weight of his presence, far enough to keep things professional in the band’s eyes.
Daniel paced the aisle with his tablet. “We’ve got Bristol tonight. Eight o’clock load-in. Quick sound check. Poppy’s meeting us there.”
The name tightened the air. Maya glanced down at her notes, but her stomach twisted.
Bristol’s venue was small, all black walls and sticky floors, the kind of place where ceiling pipes dripped condensation onto the stage lights. Fans queued outside in the drizzle, clutching posters and plastic cups. Inside, the band sound-checked under harsh spotlights.
Maya stayed near the back, scribbling observations. Adrian’s voice filled the room, stripped of polish, raw against the cracked monitors. Even in this cramped space, he carried the air of someone who belonged anywhere a stage existed.
Halfway through the check, Poppy arrived in a flurry of perfume and sequins. She kissed Adrian on the cheek, lingered close, and draped herself over an amp as if she owned the room.
Maya forced herself to keep writing. Poppy, familiar. Body language: territorial. She didn’t look up again until Adrian’s voice cut across the room.
“Ready?” he asked the band.
Theo tapped his sticks. “Let’s go.”
The show was chaos in the best way. Sweat, lights, the thrum of bass rattling through the floor. Fans screamed lyrics back at Adrian, their voices rising above his in places. He moved with purpose, pouring himself into the mic, guitar slung low.
Maya stood side stage, notebook forgotten, caught in the wave of it. This was the man stripped bare, no mask, no hesitation. Every note was a confession, every lyric an open wound. She understood then why people followed him from city to city, why strangers screamed his name like it belonged to them.
At the final chord, the crowd erupted. Adrian bowed his head, chest heaving, then disappeared into the wings. Poppy was there first, arms wrapping around him.
Maya turned away, heat creeping up her neck. She told herself it didn’t matter. She was here for the story, not for him. But jealousy had a way of cutting deeper than reason.
Back on the bus, the atmosphere buzzed with post-show adrenaline. Theo cracked open a beer, Liv stretched her arms overhead, Ash scrolled silently on his phone. Poppy slid into the seat beside Adrian, phone out for selfies.
“Smile,” she ordered, pressing her cheek to his.
He gave the barest twitch of a smile. His eyes flicked across the aisle, landing on Maya for a second before returning to the lens.
Maya looked down quickly, pretending to reread her notes. Her pen left a dark mark on the page: Jealousy is unprofessional. But it’s here.
Later, when the bus quieted and most of the band had retreated to bunks, Maya sat near the back with her laptop. She was half-drafting lines about the gig when Adrian slid into the seat across from her. Poppy’s laughter carried faintly from the front, but he didn’t glance that way.
“You didn’t like tonight,” he said softly.
She closed the laptop. “That’s not true.”
“You’re not good at lying.”
Her chest tightened. “I didn’t like… watching her with you.”
He studied her, expression unreadable. “That’s not professional, Bennett.”
“I know.”
He leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Neither is kissing in a stairwell.”
The words stole her breath. For a moment, the bus hummed louder, the air between them charged.
“Then why let her” Maya began, then stopped.
His eyes narrowed. “Why let her what?”
“Touch you like that. In front of everyone.”
A beat of silence. Then, quietly: “Because it’s easier than saying no.”
The honesty disarmed her. She searched his face, finding something raw there. “And what about me?” she asked.
His gaze held hers. “You’re not easy,” he said. “That’s why you matter.”
The bus lurched as it hit a pothole, breaking the moment. Adrian sat back, the mask slipping on again. “Get some sleep. Tomorrow’s Manchester.”
He left her there, notebook closed, heart racing.
Maya curled into her bunk later, the engine’s rumble rocking her into half-sleep. She should have been exhausted, but her mind replayed his words on a loop. You’re not easy. That’s why you matter.
For the first time, she realized the danger wasn’t Oliver Grant, or Daniel, or even Poppy. The danger was her wanting him, needing him, knowing she couldn’t pretend it was just research anymore.
- Writer
