Mayhem (Page 50)

He sniggers. “So much for all that stuff about self-respect, huh?”

“Uh, what?”

Mike snaps at Cody to shut the hell up, but Cody just chuckles some more. Mike casts me an apologetic glance, and from the way he looks at me and then quickly breaks eye contact, like he’s embarrassed for me, it finally dawns on me.

They think I slept with Adam.

“WHOA, whoa, whoa!” I say, animating my words with my hands. “NOTHING happened last night! I slept in the back room because I didn’t want to be held responsible for strangling Joel in his sleep. That’s IT.”

“Suuure ya did,” Cody replies with a sarcastic sneer, and just like that, he cements himself as my least favorite member of the band.

Mike stares at me curiously from where he’s gaming on the floor, and I whirl on Adam. “Tell them!”

Adam smirks at me. “I don’t know . . . I’d had a lot to drink.” He scratches his head, feigning a bad memory and looking downright wicked. “But if you promise to do body shots with me tonight, I’ll tell them whatever you want me to.”

I glare at him. “Tell them the truth. Right now! Or say goodbye to graduating in December!”

Adam laughs and shakes his head. He looks at Cody and Mike and shrugs. “I tried to put the moves on her, but she turned me down.” His eyes drift back to me before he adds, “Again.”

Shawn, who is descending the stairs in a fresh pair of soft-worn jeans and a clean black band T-shirt, asks, “What are we talking about?”

Mike sets the controller down and pushes off the floor. “Rowan didn’t hook up with Adam last night.” He scratches his hand over his scalp and then stretches his arms behind his back. His brown hair is disheveled into messy chunks, and he’s wearing dark denim jeans and a brown Guinness T-shirt.

Shawn raises an eyebrow at me. “Really?”

“Oh my God,” I snap. “You too?!” When he doesn’t deny it, I look around at everyone and bark, “Look, if I sleep with Adam, I’ll make sure to make it so hot and heavy and LOUD that there’s no damn confusion! Does that work for all of you?”

Four pairs of eyes bug and four jaws drop while I just stand there with my hands on my hips. I take turns scowling at all four boys—until I can’t take it anymore and a wide smile blooms across my face. I can’t believe I just said that. I start chuckling, and so does Shawn.

“Oh wow,” he says, laughing. Mike smiles warmly at me, Cody looks thoroughly embarrassed, and Adam . . . Adam is just sitting there staring at me with his eyes wide and his lips still slightly parted. I can’t imagine what he’s thinking.

“I’m going upstairs to change,” I say before any of them can form a coherent response to my outburst.

When I get upstairs, I throw myself onto my old bunk and pull the pillow over my head. I can’t believe I just said that. Hot and heavy and loud? My disbelieving laughter is muffled by the pillow I’m holding over my cheeks. I’m officially losing my mind. Adam is driving me crazy!

When I feel someone push against the pillow and playfully shake it back and forth, I pull it away. Shawn is grinning down at me.

“On a scale of one to ten,” I ask, “how crazy does everyone think I am?”

“Oh, definitely an eleven.” He chuckles and sits on the edge of the bed. “So does he know yet?”

I shush him and sit up, casting a nervous glance to the stairs to make sure no one is listening. “No.” I lean in closer and whisper, “I told you, I’m not going to tell him.”

“You don’t think he deserves to know?”

I frown. “He just doesn’t need to know.”

“Peach is still on the backstage list, you know. He never took her . . . you . . . off.”

“He probably just forgot.”

“Maybe,” Shawn says, but he doesn’t seem convinced. He stands back up and scratches the stubble under his jaw. “Just tell him, alright?”

I shake my head. “No.”

Shawn groans and starts walking back toward the stairs. When I call to him and he turns around, I put my finger over my lips, silently asking him to keep my secret. He sighs and shakes his head in disapproval, but I know he’ll keep this between us.

In the back room, I change into tight-ish jeans and a dark blue, lace-trimmed tank top, and then I brush my hair out and tie it back up. I’m really getting tired of having it up 24/7—and don’t even get me started on wearing glasses instead of contacts—but I’m worried that wearing it down would jog Adam’s memory. If we’re going to be friends, I know he’ll see me with it down eventually, but . . . just not yet. He hasn’t even called me by my first name yet, so I’m not confident that I’m sealed into his memory as Rowan. I need to make sure there’s no room for faded memories of Peach to sneak back in.

I jog downstairs to check Adam’s exercises and correct the few he got wrong before handing the sheet back to him. “You pass.”

He beams at me. “Body shots to celebrate?” I roll my eyes, and he laughs. “Whatever, fine. But we’re definitely going out!”

After the show, which I’ll never tire of watching, I walk with the guys directly into their usual onslaught of fans. Guys and girls . . . mostly girls . . . ask for pictures and autographs and the opportunity to take the guys out for after-show drinks. Michelle Hawthorne is the last person I ever expected to see.