And I hate myself for it, almost as much as Gage will when he wakes up.

Half an hour later, I step onto Luca's tour bus.

ACT III: SHOW STOPPER.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX.

Luca James's tour bus is ridiculous.

It glints, almost glaringly, silver and shiny against the still-blackened morning sky. And it's huge. In fact, I'd be willing to bet it's bigger than my entire college apartment. I don't know how it fits on the road.

A very tired Marx, who's walked me past hotel security and out through the private parking lot where we are now, points to another just-as-big bus, a few spots away. "The rest of the band rides in that."

Its windows are dark because the rest of the band is still in the hotel, sleeping like most sane people at this hour.

Luca's bus, though, is lit on the inside. He's in there, somewhere, waiting for me.

My stomach gives a little hop.

And when Marx opens the door to Luca's bus, that little hop becomes a hurdle. A high jump. A trampoline bounce.

I take the first few steps up, but turn back toward Marx, needing...I don't know. Encouragement, maybe? But surprise, surprise, he's already halfway across the parking lot. I'm on my own.

I'm on my own on Luca James's tour bus.

The moment doesn't seem real. The excitement in my belly doesn't seem real. The bus I'm standing on doesn't seem real.

The only thing that feels real right now is the heaviness in my chest. The guilt fighting against the excitement, winning.

I'm pretty sure I'll regret hurting Gage forever. I shouldn't have agreed to stay with him last night. But I just...I had to feel his arms around me one more time. It was selfish-I am selfish. But at least I left. He deserves more than me, and I wouldn't have been able to walk away if I'd waited even one second longer.

And I can't think about this one second longer either, or I might turn back around-and that's just not going to happen. I'm in this. I've made my decision. And the thing I need to wrap my head around now? Is this: I'm on a rock star's tour bus.

A smoking hot, famous rock star wants me to go on tour with him.

Luca James is bringing me on the road.

How could I not be a little excited?

He's giving me the escape I've wanted all summer.

I take one deep breath, and then I force myself further into the bus. My eyes grow wider as I walk down the aisle-which feels more like an unending hallway-passing plush leather seating and walls lined with sleek TV screens. It'd be easy to forget I'm on a bus if I wasn't so completely aware of everything around me. Even the ceiling-so tall I doubt I could jump to touch it-is lined in leather. I whistle softly. I'm tempted to snap a picture on my phone and send it to Teagan, but I don't because I'm pretty sure that'd break some sort of social etiquette between Luca and me.

I reach the kitchen and catch my breath. Glistening wood, granite countertops, double oven...

"Two ovens?" The question slips through my mouth.

"Like, really, who needs one oven, let alone two, while on the road?" Luca's sarcasm hits my ears and I spin around, finding him stifling a yawn and seated across from the kitchen at a tall fifties diner-style booth. His hair's a mess, none of the usual gel, and his face is unshaven. He's in a ratty old T-shirt and sweatpants. He looks sleepy. He looks...hot. Better than ever, if I'm being honest.

"You're up early." Should I go to him? Keep standing here? I step a little closer toward the table, doing everything I can to keep my expression calm, like this is no big deal.

Even though it is.

The very first rays of morning sun peek through the windows surrounding us. It's still early enough to go back to bed for a few hours-but something tells me if we end up in bed, we won't be going to sleep. The thought makes my stomach jump again.

"It was easy to wake up, knowing you were on your way."

Oh man. He's laying it on heavy.

"This bus is ridiculous." Though at the moment, I can't be bothered to look at anything other than his face.

"It does the trick." He takes a sip from a mug, the aroma of coffee filling the air, before he slides it toward me. "Want some?"

I wave it off. "Had two cups this morning already. I'm good, unless you want to see me climbing the very tall walls of this thing."

"That...would be an interesting sight." His eyes drop to the bag I've rolled in behind me. "Is this all you have?"

"I grabbed what I could from my apartment this morning. Most of my stuff's still in North Carolina at school," I say, fighting a feeling of inadequacy. Our lives are very different.

"Cool." Guess it doesn't faze him.

"Listen. I'm going to pay for things myself, okay?" I have everything I've saved for the summer in my wallet, and even if I spend it all, this is important to me. "I don't want you to think you're, like...I don't know..."

"Your sugar daddy?" He chuckles. "Cass. I was joking about calling you my rock mistress. But I am happy to take care of you-you're coming away with me. Giving up your life for a little while."

"I am-but it's as much for me as it is for you. More, really," I say, considering. "But I pay my own way."

"The suites we stay in on the road are thousands of dollars a night." He watches me, amused.

Wow. Okay. "I buy my own meals, at least."

"The hotels are paid for by the venues that book us," he admits, smiling. "So don't worry. I'm not paying for them either."

"Oh." That makes me feel better.

He gestures toward the kitchen. "Want anything? Eggs? French toast? You won't even have to pay for it." He pauses, a flirty little smirk across his face. "Or I could show you around the rest of the bus first. We do have the entire thing to ourselves..."

To ourselves, to ourselves, to ourselves.

"This is nuts." I can't stop the truth from pouring out. "I've never done anything like this. Unless you count earlier this summer-"

"You toured with someone else already this summer?" His eyes dance. "Damn, Cassie, you little groupie."

"No, I meant..." I slide into the booth across from him. I meant how I took the job at BackBar and moved out of my parents' house, but that'll sound so small to him. "Never mind."

"Your early-morning text surprised me. It made me happy too, but you really had me thinking you weren't interested. So here's the last chance I'll give you to change your mind. Are you sure you want to be here?" He asks the question I've been asking myself all morning.

I take a minute before lifting my face. I try to picture what the rest of my summer will be like, touring with Luca and his band. And I can't. I can't even begin to imagine what it's going to be like.

Which is perfect.

"You sold me with that whole thrill of the unexpected bit." I look at Luca, knowing the truth is plastered across my features. "I absolutely want to be here."

"Good." He breaks into a breathtaking grin and stands, reaching for me. "I wasn't actually going let you back off the bus even if you wanted me to. Just so you know, the only groupie you get to be is mine." He pauses, watching my face for what I'm sure he knows I'll say.

"I am not your groupie."

He laughs. "Come on, I'll show you the rest of the bus."

"What about that French toast you promised?" I have visions of him, covered in powdered sugar, as he tries to make breakfast-burning it, of course, as I'm sure he hasn't had to make anything for himself in at least a decade.

"Later." His grin stretches wider and he grabs my hand-his enthusiasm's hard not to catch, and I smile right back at him.

"Where's your driver?" I ask as he pulls me past the kitchen. "The sun is coming up, and I thought you said we were leaving at the crack of dawn."

"We-I like that word, coming from your mouth." He looks over his shoulder to grin at me. "I bumped our departure time by an hour. He's probably back in bed at the hotel."

Then he takes me through the area that's his office, complete with a small recording studio for "when he feels like tinkering around with sound"-and, get this, a movie theater. Or, as Luca calls it, a "cinema room." A spade's a spade in my book though. The entire place smells like expensive leather, the kind you just know will be soft as silk. The bathroom has a full shower and gray ceramic-topped counters and cabinets, sleek and cool to the touch. "The one upstairs," Luca says, "is smaller but has better water pressure."

"The one upstairs?" I gape at him. "As in, on the second level?"

He tilts his head toward the back corner of the room we're in. There's a spiral staircase leading up to another level.

"Catching flies?" He taps my jaw, which is hanging open.

I leave it there for another second, raising my eyebrows, because come on. "Right. There's an upstairs. Of course there is. Silly me."

"You are so refreshingly fucking cute I could eat you right up." He wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me against his chest for a tight squeeze.

I take a deep breath, inhaling his spicy cinnamon vanilla scent. I kind of want to eat him right up, too. And not just because he smells a little like dessert.

Wow. Okay. Am I really doing this? Responsible Cassidy truly has left the building.

But she's also left all her worries. All her guilt...well, most of her guilt. And most of her sorrow. Or...at least, she's doing her best. And I know something that'll really help. So I ask, "Is there a bedroom in this thing?"

"You want to skip the rest of the tour?" He stills, and with my head against his chest, I can hear the beat of his heart speed up the tiniest bit.

"I..." I pause, waiting for nerves to set in. But they don't, and when I realize they're not coming, I can almost feel the rest of my inhibitions slipping off my shoulders. I smile against his chest. "I do."

"Really?" He leans back to look in my eyes and, when I nod, the last traces of sleepiness in his expression sharpen into something more suggestive. His hands slide lower, his thumbs slipping over the tips of my breasts. My nipples spring to attention. So do other very sensitive areas of my body.

"Without a doubt."

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN.

I follow Luca up the staircase in his tour bus and through a bar-something that I'm sure will impress me when my mind actually takes it in later on, after...

He pulls me into a bedroom separated from the bar by glass panels. The first thing I notice is the bed. The huge, cushiony-looking bed, neatly made, with deep green covers and a sleek black headboard. I wonder how many other girls have seen it. Actually, scratch that. I really don't want to know. I'm here now. Who came before doesn't matter. Neither does whoever'll come after. This is my slice of time. My escape.

There's a nightstand by the bed, and a dresser against the wall, but the rest of the room is bare. I try not to compare it to Gage's bedroom. All the pictures of his family. The warmth. Not that Luca's bus bedroom is cold. It's just...empty. But of course it is. We're on a bus, not in his house.

And empty or not, the room is still freaking impressive, with church-style arched windows cut into the walls at the sides. The early-morning sun, higher in the sky now, comes through glaringly bright. When he notices me squinting, Luca pushes a touch screen on the wall by the door and shades drop down to cover the windows. He hits it a second time, and the glass walls separating us from the rest of the second level change from transparent to an opaque, milky white.

"Wow." I don't know if I'm talking about the room, the bus, or the view of Luca James standing right in front of me.

"Wow." He smoothes his hands along my waist and then jerks up my shirt, untucking it from my shorts.

"This..." Holy shit. This is really happening. Excitement is a sweet burn at the base of my belly. "This bus is really something else."

"You're really something else."

"Stop that."

"Stop what?"

"That!" But I'm grinning like a maniac and when he yanks my shirt up even further, I raise my hands to help him get it over my head. "Repeating everything I say."

His gaze travels slowly down my body and back up, desire blooming in his eyes. "You're gorgeous, babe."

I fight a blush, clearing my throat. I wish I could think of some sort of response, but...nope. I've got nothing. Thankfully, Luca doesn't notice my silence. He's too busy taking me in. The heat in my face tells me I've lost the battle with the blush.

"Whatcha got under these?" He tugs at the waist of my shorts, glancing down. "Mmmm. Black panties? I like."

"They're not...sexy or anything." Might as well admit it upfront. Why didn't I leave myself time to hit up a lingerie store?

"You're sexy as hell, Cass. Doesn't matter what you're wearing." He steps away from me, and-full of sugary tension-the air stretches like taffy between us. "Show me."

"Uh..." Okay, Cassidy, let's do this. What am I even here for if I'm not going all in? No turning back now.

Especially no turning back after.

And it's the last thought that propels me into action.

I make myself meet his eyes, and I bite my lower lip, unbuttoning my shorts. I tuck my thumbs into the waist and drag them slowly down, twisting my hips a little to let the fabric fall below them.

Okay, be sexy.