“Not every night, buddy,” Dillon says, scooping him up and putting him in the seat across from Ronan. “And we’ll have to practice.”
“Of course.” East looks at him like he’s being ridiculous.
“Swap with me,” Ash says, looking over at Ronan, and he silently gets up, taking her seat. She drops down beside me while Dillon settles into the seat beside Easton. They are whispering with their heads huddled, plotting trouble, most likely.
“Do you ever feel like you live in a real-life soap opera?” she asks, as Leon climbs on board the plane.
“All the freaking time.”
“The luggage is safely on board, Vivien,” my bodyguard informs me.
“Thank you.”
“Make yourself comfortable, Leon,” Ash says, pointing at the spare seats behind Jamie and Conor.
The door shuts as the flight attendant appears, advising us to buckle our seat belts and prepare for takeoff.
Easton chatters nonstop until he falls asleep, lulled by the motion of the plane. Dillon reclines his seat and drapes a blanket over him, before offering me his hand. “Can we talk?” he whispers, jerking his head toward the two empty seats behind us.
“I’ll watch the treasure,” Ash says, lifting her head from her book.
We resituate ourselves in the seats. Leon is across from us, napping, and the others all have their AirPods in.
“I’m sorry for being a jackass this morning,” he says, threading his fingers through mine.
“It’s okay. I’m well acquainted with your assholish gene.”
He grabs my face, kissing me passionately. “In case you weren’t aware, I’m over the fucking moon you’re coming on tour with me.”
“I’m excited.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“I have a favor to ask,” I say, twisting in the seat to face him. “I’ve decided I would like to get up on stage with you, once, and sing.”
His eyes pop wide. “What’s brought this on?”
“You. You’ve encouraged me to overcome my fears. I have always been the truest sense of myself with you. I want to do this. I want to prove to myself that I’m the only one who is in control of my life. I want to be brave and put myself out there knowing how some will perceive it.”
“You should sing ‘She Moved Through the Fair.’ That will bring the most critical of cynics to their knees.”
I very much doubt that. “That’s an odd choice for a rock concert.”
“It’s our show, and if anyone dares to question me, I’ll punch their lights out.”
“Me too,” Ash says from overhead. We both look up. “I’ll square it with the label.”
“Fuck off and mind your own business,” Dillon says, but there’s no heat in his words. “This is a private conversation.”
“There is no such thing as privacy on tour,” she retorts.
“Not for you.” He grins smugly, sliding his arm around my shoulders. “We’ve got our own bus.”
She flips him the bird before sliding back into her seat as Jamie comes over to join her.
“Are you mad I didn’t tell you?” I ask, wanting to clear the air before we step foot on said bus.