#Kissing (Rock and Romance #1) by Ellie Brixton Page A

Sheets of water wash us clean and dancers make us muddy again.
    The storm leaves me in mist as I sulk back toward the tour busses. Someone calls the Japanese word for hello , drawing me away from a black bus with New York plates.
    "Kenji?" I call. " Kon'ichiwa ."
    Laughter follows. I reach the end of another bus and he stands there, bathed in dim light pouring from the entry, clean and dry, surrounded by his girls as usual. He says something I don't catch.
    "You're so dirty," one of the girls says.
    I plant a muddy kiss on her cheek. "Now you are too."
    "No, no. She was dirty before," another says. They all giggle.
    I step onto the bus, the sight of me, covered in mud, suspending the laughter at the climax of a story. Niko, seated in the center, like the royal he is, closes his mouth and then wipes his nose. His coke-fueled tales border on legend at this point. I'm not the only one who likes the sound of his voice—record sales and scores of fans prove that.
    Jill, perched on a table and leaning against the window, holding a bottle of whisky asks, "What the hell happened to you?"
    Kat, her chest thrust out, simpers, sitting on a guy's lap. He has a fake tan and his dark hair slicks away from his bloated face.
    I lock eyes with her, calling up our previous conversation. She may be the devil, but I'm not always the good girl. Shit, or mud as it were, happens.
    Everyone stares at me, and then I say, "The secret, Kat, is to have fun." I smile and like a great, shaggy dog, shake from side to side, getting everyone and everything filthy.
    I pick up abandoned bottles, half-full and proceed to spin, letting the liquid fly from my fingers. My laughter is glee and debauchery and soon the others join me.
    Screw sleeping.
    #LetsParty
     

 
    Chapter 22
    Niko and I fight. It turns out two days is too long for a couple to tolerate each other without sleep and so much temptation itching between us.
    My exact last words were, "Fuck you," in response to us just arguing about arguing. Also, when I'd showered on the bus. Someone, ahem, Kat more than likely, or Jill, she perpetually looks guilty, stole my towel and clothes and the toilet paper. I walked out naked. The bus was crowded. I was pissed and flushed a bag of pills down the toilet. I thought they were Kat's. Whatever. It doesn't matter.
    The sky slowly gives up on night as I pad across the trashed grounds of the festival. There's a yoga session on one of the stages. I climb to the catwalk where the techs mounted the lighting equipment. The morning air makes me yawn.
    The sunrise, soft buttery peach, spills over the horizon, reminding me that heaven isn't that far away. Sometimes, I don't think Bubbie is either. I sense her close to me now.
    I snap a photo, and hover over the send box in my dialog with Niko. I delete it. Instead, I file through my numbers. I find the J s. There he is—JQ as a little icon with blue eyes smiling back at me.
    Without giving it another moment of thought, I add the image and press send.
    I stay there until a security guard, appearing from a tent, orders me down. He adjusts his zipper.
    "You're lucky you didn't get hurt."
    "So are you," I mutter and give him a dirty look before stalking away.
    The sunrise reminds me of all the people I've lost: Bubbie, JQ, and parts of myself—though I guess I gave those away willingly.
    We all crash on the bus, the rhythm of rubber on the road keeping us quiet, everyone absorbed in their own worlds, mostly digital. Me, my racing thoughts. When the bus slows, as we pull into New York, I'm relieved to plant my feet on solid ground.
    The Halos have a day off, then some press before a major show in a few days. It's a Halloween bash. Those already awake toss around costume ideas. Niko and I immediately go to our hotel room, our irritation with each other dissolving with the promise of privacy.
    I bounce onto the bed, my eyes fluttering shut, having hardly slept on the bus. "I'm sorry," I whisper. "Let's not ever try to party