Strung Tight (The Road To Rocktoberfest #1) - Ann Lister Page 0,6

moved on, which was probably a good thing. I needed a fresh start to figure out who I wanted to be, so here I am working with my father.”

“Do you like working with him?” I asked as my eyes began to grow heavy.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” Dallas answered. “The guys are cool and no one hassles me too much.”

His head turned on the pillow again, and I felt his gaze on my profile. It made my heart kick a little faster knowing he was staring at me. It probably should have been awkward, even lying this close together on the same big pillow, but none of it felt off. It was a rush and warmed my entire body. I looked over at him and met his eyes and he smiled.

“Did you always want to be a musician?” he asked.

“Yeah, since I was about seven years old,” I said. “I would try and make music with anything I could get my hands on. Drove my parents crazy with the racket, but I couldn't help myself. I’d study ordinary things in the house or even outside and calculate their potential as an instrument, then test them out to see what sounds I could make.”

“I bet that was funny as hell to watch.” Dallas chuckled.

I was about to reply when a booming voice sounded from below us in the parking lot. “Dallas! Time to head home,” the voice said.

“Oh, shit. That's my dad,” Dallas explained. “I gotta go.”

“It's cool.” I stood up to help him gather the stuff he’d brought up to the roof. Once we'd collected everything, we walked back to the ladder.

“Will you be here tomorrow?” Dallas asked me.

“Every day except for Sundays,” I commented.

“Maybe we can hang out again,” he said.

“Yeah, sure.” I started down the ladder using one hand while my other arm held a few of the items from the roof. Dallas climbed down after me, and I handed him his things.

“See you tomorrow?” he asked.

“I'll be here,” I said, then began walking along the side of the trailer to get to the open parking lot. Since my guys had already left with the van, I had to get myself an Uber. I opened up the app and was punching in the details for my ride when behind me, I could hear Dallas's father asking him questions about why he was hanging out with me.

I overheard Dallas tell his father that he thought I was cool, and I smiled. Why that made me feel as good as it did was beyond me, and I was still grinning about it even as I slipped into the back seat.

Chapter Three

“Dude, you should've come out with us last night,” Mike said when he walked into the kitchen wearing only his boxer briefs. “We all got some strange. Even Dix got a little action, which was pretty funny to see.”

“Dixon hooked up?” I asked.

“Two girls took us out into the parking lot behind the club and sucked us off against my van,” Mike added. “One right after the other. It was pretty fucking awesome.”

“It actually sounds pretty fucking gross,” I said and grimaced at the visual that popped into my head.

“You have something against pussy?” Mike asked as he poured himself a mug of coffee.

“Hardly,” I scoffed.

“When was the last time your dick saw any action other than your own fist?”

“I'd rather go without than stick my dick in a girl's mouth that just swallowed a load from my band brother,” I said. “Sorry, but that holds no appeal for me.”

“Well, we all got off,” Mike repeated. “What did you do last night?”

“I got high with Dallas and then came home.”

“Did he suck your dick?” he asked over the rim of his mug.

I could tell he was smiling even without seeing his lips. Smartass. “Yeah, we blew each other five times,” I said and rolled my eyes so hard I was surprised I didn't strain something.

“Did you swallow?” He teased.

I balled up the paper towel my bagel was sitting on and threw it at his face—crumbs and all, like that made it somehow fiercer. “We're supposed to be at the studio in an hour.”

“Yeah, I know,” Mike said. “I'm gonna take a quick shower and grab something to eat before we leave.”

Forty minutes later, we piled into his van and drove to the rehearsal studio across town. I was hoping Spumoni would show up at some point with the bag of weed Dagger had promised, but work came first. We needed to put