“Evan,” she says, surprised to see me standing out the front of her door. There is a fire in her eyes. “This will save me a visit to your room. We had an agreement we would be just friends. You don’t see me cock-blocking you; you didn’t see me making a scene in front of those girls. I left you alone; I let you do your thing because that is what we both promised each other. I don’t appreciate you sneaking off when you are with another girl making men around me uncomfortable by whatever intimidation tricks you were using. Keep your fucking hands to yourself and don’t ever try and cock-block me again, okay?”
She is breathing hard, her face flushed but she is right. I may have said something to the men she was dancing with. I may have sent them on their way, only because they didn’t deserve her. They were douchebags and they wouldn’t treat her right. She was right, she didn’t get up in the brunette’s face, she didn’t give me death stares, she kept up her end of the bargain. Maybe she isn’t affected by our time together as much as I am. Running my hand over my head, I feel depleted. Fuck, maybe she’s just not that into me. Rejection … now that’s a new concept. I shouldn’t have assumed anything, especially the fact that she is newly single and may get too attached to me. But most women do. This time it was me. I had become attached. “You’re right, Sienna.”
Shock crosses her face; she frowns before quickly hiding it with a smile. Heading towards her door, she turns and continues. “Good, as long as you understand. It’s going to be a long tour and this is only day one.”
Nodding, I reply, “I didn’t like the way those men were looking at you. I didn’t like the way those men were touching you.” My confession lets her know why I did what I did.
She lets out a sigh. “Don’t think for one second that seeing you with that woman didn’t hurt me; that I didn’t want to rip her hands off you.”#p#分页标题#e#
A growl came out of my mouth at her words. She can’t say something like that to me and just walk away. “Sienna,” I breathe. My whole body tenses as I try to hold myself back. All I want to do is open the door, pick her up, throw her onto the bed and have my way with her again.
“Evan,” she exhales. The way she says my name sends chills over my body.
Taking a step forward towards her, my body is on high alert. I want her.
She keeps the door between us like a shield.
“Friends, that’s what we agreed. Don’t worry, I’ll get used to it, seeing you with other women,” Sienna whispers.
No, no, I don’t want her to get used to me being with other women because then that means I have to get used to her being with other men and that’s not what I want. But like a pussy, I let her say goodnight and close the door.
It was an uneasy truce between Evan and me. Luckily the tour was in full swing so most of our days were spent dressing the boys for a million interviews they had in each new city. We were always busy, collecting and distributing clothes sent in from fashion labels for each of the boys as well as dressing them in between shows. The first dress rehearsal went horribly wrong. Trying to get their clothes off when they are covered in sweat was not easy. Arms and legs getting caught, people falling over each other – it was so embarrassing. Eventually we got it together by the time the concert came around. Stripping Evan down to his underwear was hardly noticeable after a while. Who am I kidding? I noticed.
We had made our way through the UK, stopping in Edinburgh then Dublin for a couple of nights. Of course, the parties after each show were excruciating; watching the women all over Evan made me sick. But I tried to ignore it most nights. Derrick would always remind us of our European buffet of men – that kept me entertained enough to ignore the revolving women going through Evan’s door each night. No mistaking the walk of shame in the morning when it is thrown in your face as you eat your breakfast.
We arrived in Spain today. My old friend Yvette, who is a famous Spanish fashion designer, now living in Paris, has organized for me to catch up with her brother, Sebastien, who I haven’t seen in ages. He’s a famous European chef, an enormous celebrity in Spain. We are going to catch up tonight at the after party. I haven’t seen him since his very public divorce – it will be fun to catch up.
***
“You look smoking Sisi,” Derrick whispers in my ear as we arrive at the after party.
I am wearing a gold sequin mini dress. It doesn’t leave much to the imagination, and I blow dried my hair straight for a change. The club was already full with beautiful people. On our arrival, the hostess showed us to our area and made sure the boys had everything before disappearing. It wasn’t long until people started to come by and say hello to the band. Photos were taken, autographs given, body parts groped – just a typical night with Dirty Texas.