Page 92 of Anything But Lonely

Thank fuck this hotel had another available room.

Sending that video to Mateo was one thing—so was leaving him another pair of my underwear.

But being in the same hotel room when he got back?

Even I don’t have the balls for that right now.

My goal was to fluster him just enough—but the more I think about it, I hope he doesn’t get pissed.

After Talia picked up Crew, and I was left to my own devices, I finally put the plan I’d been working on all week into motion.

I had to get back at Mateo for stealing my underwear somehow—and this was the best way I could think of. Sending him a video of me riding his pillow mere minutes before he’s going on stage is a gamble, but if I know anything about Mateo, it’s that he’s a good sport.

I’ve been messing with him since I met him.

And now, the ball is in his court.

I just hope he does something with it.

Because if he doesn’t, that would ruin all the fun.

And I don’t want this little game of ours to end when it’s only just begun.

Getting Crew packed and ready for his few days with his mom on top of our normal, chaotic tour schedule, I missed my therapy session again this week, and, even though I’ve still been feeling okay, I’ve noticed the exhaustion hitting me harder than usual.

It’s a strange thing, how tired I can be without doing anything that should make me this tired, how some mornings I wake up already feeling like I’m behind—like I’ve spent the night carrying something heavy that I can’t remember picking up. Even the little things—the smiles I need to make sure are in place, the meals I need to make, the conversations I need to have—seem to ask for more of me than I have available to give.

Maybe that was why I’d been putting so much effort into this stupid little game with Mateo.

Because it’s easy.

It’s easy to focus on his reaction, on whether I can make him blush, wondering what he might do next, seeing how far I can push him.

It’s easy to let myself get caught up in the anticipation of it all—the excitement, the possibility, the feeling of having something to look forward to.

And maybe that’s why I don’t want it to end.

Because lately, sleep is starting to feel less like rest again and more like a place to hide for a while.

Selecting one of the older Cross My Heart albums, I slide my phone under my pillow, the familiar songs enveloping me like a warm hug, keeping my mind at ease and my body settling into the mattress.

One song fades into another, and then another, and my eyelids grow heavy, slowly closing before they snap open.

I forgot this song was on this album—it’s been a while since I’ve listened to some of the older ones.

I haven’t heard this song since that first day at soundcheck and then again at the first show.

It’s the song I always skip, always avoid.

And after the Atlanta show, the guys added it to their encores instead of playing it so early in their set.

The lyrics hit me like a fist to the stomach, hard enough to steal my breath away, knock all the air out of me.

Living with your arms around a ghost.

Saying goodbye too soon.

Learning how to live in a world that kept turning when yours stopped.