Page 9 of Don't Think

Emelia is the only person I’ve ever been with, so why would I sign myself up for that kind of humiliation? Just to feel numb? I already feel numb most days, so that’s already taken care of.

That’s why I promised myself this tour is strictly about dreams, and making them come true. For me, for my mum, and for the guys.

We’ve worked our asses off to get here, and it’s finally paying off. No more playing in my dusty garage or doing those shitty open mics at the local pub.

This is when shit gets real.

There’s no time for anything else but working on this record. Even if they make my heart feel like the pieces are slowly melding back together, or they smell like roses and have the most gorgeous set of blue eyes I’ve ever seen.

There’s just no room for feelings when you’re about to go on tour. So why would I ask for her number when it’s not even a possibility that it would go anywhere?

Chapter Three

Allie

Thwack.

Something soft smacks the back of my head, and I jolt awake, flailing for whatever just hit me. My hand lands on a pillow, and I grunt, tossing it to the floor before squinting up to see who my would-be assailant is.

Everything is still blurry, but I can make out Ana standing over me with her arms crossed over her chest, and her hip popped out.

I blink a few times, still struggling to get my eyes to understand it’s time to be awake and not drift back to sleep.

“What time is it?”I mumble through a yawn.

“Almost noon,” she says, a little too cheerfully for someone who just committed pillow assault.

My body springs me forward before my brain can catch up and the room shifts around me.

“Noon?” I shriek. “Why didn’t you wake me?!”

Ana shrugs and walks farther into the room. She picks up the pillow and launches it at me again. “Well… since someone was so tired they forgot my wine last night, I figured they really needed their beauty sleep.”

She flashes me a grin before turning away.

Right before disappearing, she glances back. “Relax. We’ve got time,” she says, as if that magically erases the panic already clawing its way up my spine.

When the door clicks shut again, I fall back into the bed with a loud, frustrated groan. Of course the one day my body actually decides to let me sleep in is the day I really shouldn’t. Somehow, even with the extra sleep, my body still feels weighed down like I’m currently melting into the mattress with absolutely no will to leave it.

Then it hits me. Today is Bottom Line day.

Which means meet-and-greet round two with Jax freaking Owens.

My brain does a full somersault, straight into freefall mode until I’m back to the wine aisle, only inches away from those ridiculously beautiful blue eyes and a dimple that tests how strong my knees are.

Then come along the thoughts of… will he remember me? And I honestly can’t say if I hope he does, or if I’d rather he forget that I practically mowed him down. The bigger part of me is begging to be remembered—even just once. For someone to actually see me and remember me for something good.

Bad first impressions always cling to me like a damn shadow.

As a mother, I’m known as the protective mama bear. Everyone knows better than to mess with my girls. Then, as a nurse, I stand my ground and don’t tolerate abuse in the office. I refuse to rush patients just because a provider says to. Becauseat the end of the day, people need someone to truly listen, and I won’t compromise on that.

But today? Today is a day I need to make a good impression. Not just because it’s my favorite band, but because deep down, I know I’m a good person. I care. I show up. So I deserve to be seen for who I really am and not as some mumbling, nervous wreck who can’t string together a proper sentence.

I slide off the bed and pad my way into the walk-in closet to search for the outfit I still can’t believe I packed. It’s not overly revealing, but just bold enough that I still think I have no business wearing it.

But hey, that’s what spending six years with someone who couldn’t throw you a single compliment will do to you. Your self-confidence depletes over time, and when you finally say you’ve had enough and leave, it doesn’t just come rushing back.

You have to fight to get it back and continue fighting to keep it. Or, in my case, have a friend like Ana who throws it in your suitcase whether you like it or not and tells you to suck it up.