#for the love of god please make them fat hairy and greying that's all i ask

[mtfstuff]

Departure and arrival

I'm working at the airport selling flowers and coffee. Not the best job but the shop is owned by my uncle so I have almost complete freedom. I always wanted to travel often, to work from different places all the time. Now I'm somewhat in hell. I'm so close to flights but I can never enter them as I have to work. I can only dream and watch people live it.

As I was daydreaming about flying away once more, a man caught my eye as his colorful pants separated himself from the rest.

He was tall, handsome, had a beautiful beard and well-groomed hair. He was wearing brown leather boots, light brown/orange pants and a grey shirt. It suited him very well. He was gorgeous for me. The complete opposite of me. I was chubby, started to lose hair, even though I'm only in my mid-twenties, and I dont really had a sense of fashion.

I was dreaming about how he was flying somewhere warm, where he gets to take of his shirt and flex his muscles on the beach. I was daydreaming even further as I realized that someone wanted to buy something. I snapped out of my dream and the man stood right in front of me with a big smile.

"One latte, please.", he said with a big grin. I had to retract my eyes from his handsome face and white teeth.

"Of course, one moment please.", I said, taking a paper cup and putting it under the coffee machine.

"Do you have a ticket?", I asked. I couldnt wait to see where he was travelling to. But he looked confused at me.

"If you have a boarding ticket, you can get everything cheaper in our store.", I clarified.

"Oh, yeah. I have one.", he said, taking out his ticket and putting it on the desk. "That's a really nice service you have here."

Was he flirting with me?, I thought.

I took the ticket, scanned it for his discount, looked at his destination and gave it back to him.

"Spain, what a nice destination. Especially as the weather here is pretty bad at the moment.", I said finishing his coffee. "May I ask for work or just for fun."

"Both.", he answered. "A bit of work but mostly just for fun."

I handed him the coffee and he paid.

"You look like you could use some fun too", he said leaving.

He definitely flirted with me, I thought.

I watched him go and dreamed about being him in Spain. To my surprise, he didnt go to the terminals to start the check in, but he went to the toilet. He opened the door, turned around and looked at me, raised an eyebrow and disappeared into the bathroom.

I was shocked and turned on at the same time. Did he want me to follow him?, I thought.

I looked around and decided to follow him. I told my uncle that I have to go for a short moment and he excused me.

I followed the man into the toilet but no one was there as I entered.

The man came out of a cabin and grinned.

"We're all alone. Come on, lock the door.", he said. And I did. I locked the main door from the inside so that we couldnt get disturbed. I may had no idea what he wanted but I was so horny for him that I didnt care.

"I saw your looks.", he said. "And you are completely my type."

"I'm your type? Come on, look at me. I'm fat. I'm totally not in your league.", I said a little intimidated.

He stepped towards me.

"Look.", he said running his hands over my a little too tight shirt. "I have a thing for chubby boys."

"Boy? Do I look So childlike?", I asked shocked.

"Well, you look a lot younger than me.", he said. "I'm Lucas by the way."

He grabbed my head and kissed me gently. I loved the feeling of his lips. They were so soft and his beard a bit scratchy.

Lucas took a step back.

"Strip.", he said. I was shocked as I thought that he would take them off. But I started anyways as I opened my laces, kicked off my shoes and took off my socks. I tried to take off my shirt but I was struggling with it. Lucas helped me getting it off and then continued with my jeans. He took them and my underpants off, leaving me naked in front of him.

He kneeled down and lifted my belly to start sucking my dick. It didn't take long until I moaned by the pleasure. It was the best feeling I ever had. His beard tingled slightly but his lips and mouth were a pleasant surprise. It felt as if this wasnt his first blowjob. He sucked further and further until I came. And he took it all in one gulp.

He stood up and we kissed aggressively until his back hit a highboy. He pushed me away, causing me to fall backwards. After that, Lucas pulled himself up onto the highboy with a big grin.

"And now you strip me.", he said holding his foot out for me.

I quickly took off his boots and socks. After that I opened his pants and pulled them down. To my surprise greeted me his hard dick instead of underpants. He giggled as he saw my surprised face. I continued by unbuttoning his shirt and taking off his watch and rings.

He got down from the highboy and turned me around. He hugged me from behind and layed his chin on my shoulder.

"You'll gonna like this.", he whispered into my ear right as I felt something getting stuck up into my butt.

"Oh, it's so tight. Is this your first time?", Lucas asked. I just nodded in pain.

The sound of my fat cheeks hitting his muscular hips filled the air.

He increased the pace with every thrust until he came. As he pulled out his dick, I felt how the pain became even stronger.

I was completely out of breath and I heard him panting too.

"Thanks, chubby.", he said.

As I turned around to face him, I saw that he already wanted to dress up again as he lifted his pants from the ground. I took them out if his hands and threw them back to the ground. He looked confused.

"Thats it? Really?", I asked furious.

"Well, I never said I wanted more.", he answered.

I stormed at him and we struggled to the ground. Lucas tried to fight me off and I tried to overpower him.

He managed to get out if my grasp and tried to stand up but I grabbed him by his ankle and pulled him back down. His fall must have hurt as he was panting on the ground after it. I quickly sat down on his back and secured his arms.

"You'll gonna like this.", I whispered in his ear.

"No, please. You dont have to do th-", Lucas didnt even manage to end his sentence as I pushed my dick into his hole.

"Uugh, fuck. It feels so much bigger than it looks.", he said. "Please - aagh - stop! It hurts so bad."

But I didnt stop. With every thrust I felt better and his hole became wider.

I grabbed him by his man bun and lifted his head.

"Its so tight. Is this your first time?", I asked him uppish.

He groaned under pain and nodded.

"You'll remember this day as the day when chubby got what he wanted from you.", I said letting go of his man bun.

I thrusted even faster until I shot my load.

Lucas cried silently as I shot my load into his hairy ass. As I wanted to pull out my dick, his cheeks tensed up, making my dick stuck. I tried to pull it out but my dick didnt move a single inch.

Only then I noticed that I didnt hear a thing from Lucas anymore. I lifted his head again to tell him to relax but he suddenly started to move uncontrollably. His muscles were twitching as if he had a seizure. I tried to relax him, but I passed out on top of him.

As I started to regain my consciousness, I felt the cold floor beneath me.

Looks like I fell off of Lucas, I thought. But then I felt something heavy on top of me moving. It stood up. I rolled around and opened my eyes to see my body standing in front of me. It looked as surprised as I was.

"What did you do?", it said looking down at me and then back at his body. "You stole my body, you little filth!", it said.

I didn't understand what he meant. Only as I tried to stand up I noticed my muscular arms and legs. I was now towering over my old body. I was in Lucas body.

He attacked me and we struggled again.

"You cant do this to me. I dont want to be chubby!", he started crying.

"This wasnt my intention. But now you wont get it back. I always wanted to have a body like this. I also thought that you had a thing for chubby bodies.", I said while overpowering him.

He fell to the ground.

"Stay down!", I said. "I'm now Lucas. I'll meet my best friend Jorge in Spain and you wont."

"Wait, how do you know...", Lucas stammered in my old body. "Oh god, I know your life too. Please we have to change back. I want to live my life, not yours."

"This is your life now!", I said. I slapped him so hard that I knocked him out. I was watching my old body for quite some time. I'll probably never see my family again, but thats okay if I'll stay in this body, I thought.

I put on Lucas clothes, inhaled his nice smell, took his luggage, unlocked the door and left.

I had the best time of my life in Spain. His job as a model was pretty easy and the rest of my time I've spent on the beach or at the park, showing of my new body. I'll never go back to where I was with my life before. Lucas is the best thing that has ever happened to me.

[shownuslaugh]

Kihyun A to Z

(I feel like this might be a departure from how a lot of people see Kihyun on here. Just keep in mind this is all my opinion and it’s totally fine for you to disagree... just don’t be mean about it please.)

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Kihyun is known as the mom of Monsta X for a reason. After sex he’s so doting it’s borderline smothering. You want a massage? No need to ask, he’s already on it. Need some food? He’s downstairs cooking before you’re even finished blinking. He’ll do anything to keep you happy and show his appreciation to you.

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Gather round children and listen to the tale of Kihyun adoring your tummy. It’s soft and cute and his absolute favorite place to kiss you whether it’s during sex or not. He’s said before he would like a girl on the ‘chubbier’ side which leads me to believe his favorite body part of yours would hands down be your stomach. He’d be full of compliments,

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

He loves cumming all over your hand. Forget inside you, forget your chest, he loves having your hand around his cock and cumming all over it while you whisper in his ear what a good little boy he’s been for you all night. He loves watching you lick it off while he catches his breath after his orgasm.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He tried being a dom in bed after hearing Shownu and I.M going on about it one night but it just never appealed to him. It was one of the worst sexual experiences of his life. Then Shownu teasingly called him baby boy one night and Kihyun got embarrassingly hard embarrassingly fast. That’s when he knew he was more of a sub than a dom.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Don’t let his softness in bed fool you. He’s a grown man and he’s also the most experienced. You can fight me on that too. No, that doesn’t mean he’s slept with a ton of girls but he’s certainly honed his craft in a way that can have you dropping your panties with one doe-eyed look your way.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Kihyun likes missionary. HEAR ME OUT! To Kihyun sex is about intimacy and trust and showing the other person how much you care for them. What better way to show that than pressed together chest to chest, looking in each other’s eyes. Usually the dirtier the position the less he likes it. Doggy style is the ‘dirtiest’ he’ll go.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Kihyun is the most serious in bed out of the boys because he’s the least dominant. He totally loses all sense of self when having sex and easily gets wrapped up in the intensity. As a sub he knows he has to trust you implicitly and there’s nothing lighthearted to him about that.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

It honestly depends on what his partner wants. He’s a natural born pleaser so what you say goes. If you want him completely bare he’ll go out and get a wax in a heartbeat. If you prefer him a little hairy he’ll let it grow to your preference. Hell, you could ask him to dye his hair plaid and he’d find some way to do it… much to everyone’s horror.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Kihyun is leaps and bounds ahead of the rest of the boys when it comes to romance in the bedroom. It’s always an event with him and he always works hard to make you feel special. From candles and rose petals, to chocolate and champagne he certainly knows how to treat the one he loves. Expect intense eye contact and lots of praises.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He likes to ask you before jerking off. There’s just something about having to beg before receiving. The anticipation of your answer gets him so hard he has a difficult time concentrating on anything but the bulge in his pants and the haze in his head.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Orgasm denial (receiving), pet names (receiving), body worship (giving and receiving)

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

Kihyun doesn’t really have a place he likes more than others. As long as he gets to take his time he’s okay with anywhere.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

His biggest turn on is when the two of you are laying together cuddling and you start stroking his skin. Just feeling your hands trace over his arm, down his chest, across his stomach, along his thighs is enough to have him squirmy and whiny in no time at all.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Dom. He’s no Christian Grey (thank God) or whatever other dominant man is popular in media.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

GIVING GIVING GIVING GIVING. And he’s GOOD. Boy knows what he’s doing and knows exactly how to flick his tongue or what noise to make to get you wetter and wetter. He’s not sloppy like Wonho. He has a set way to do things that’s sure to drive you crazy.

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Look up slow and sensual in the dictionary and you’ll find a picture of Kihyun. He’s also good at thrusting DEEP and hitting all the right spots inside you.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

Nope. Kihyun and Shownu are the ones that dislike quickies the most. He just feels like it doesn’t give him enough time to do everything to you that he wants to do.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

The thought of experimenting doesn’t thrill him but he’s willing to try anything once if it will make you happy. But if he really doesn’t like something he’s really vocal about it.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Kihyun is one of the ones that can’t really last more than two rounds. He gets too tired after that because the rounds usually last so long (about an hour, sometimes even an hour and a half) and they’re always so intense.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Yes he owns toys. Several fleshlights and a few collars. His favorite is a vibrator that he constantly begs you to use on him. That being said he doesn’t really like using it on himself unless you’re there to encourage him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Kihyun isn’t really a tease unless you explicitly ask for it. He’d rather be teased. He wants you to make him beg for it until his voice is almost gone.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s a moaner ‘til the end of time. The occasional high pitched whine will get mixed in amongst the throaty moans but that’s only if he’s extra needy. Mostly it’s all soft little moans and delicate praises.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

The only time he’ll take without giving is after dance practice. He’s usually so wiped out he’ll let you do whatever you want to him. He always makes up for it the next morning though, pleasing you with his mouth and fingers until you have to pull him away.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

He’s around 6 inches and on the thicker side. He’s always been a little shy about his size for some reason but he’s never had complaints from partners.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

I’d say his sex drive is fairly average for a guy his age. No, he doesn’t want it all the time but there are definitely a few things that really put him in the mood.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Like Wonho, Kihyun is out like a light very soon after. He’s always exhausted after you’re finished with him.

[anavoliselenu]

Creighton chapter 11

BILLIONAIRE’S BRIDE FLYING COACH?

Selena Wix, newly married to billionaire Justin Karas, was spotted on a commercial flight from NYC to Nashville, and our sources say she was flying coach. Is there trouble in paradise already? With a fleet of three Gulfstreams, you’d think the billionaire could have arranged a classier ride for his bride. We’ll be reporting back when we have more on the latest match to rock Music City.

The cab ride to the airport took the rest of my cash, and I’m lucky that I’m getting paid next week, because the last-minute flight maxed out my own credit card. I left my new Amex Black Card on the kitchen counter of my new husband’s Fifth Avenue penthouse.

Big sunglasses hide the circles under my eyes, and hopefully my identity. I thought I saw a guy on his phone staring at me a little too long, but I’m not worrying about it. I shouldn’t be that recognizable. This town is full of one-hit wonders, and I haven’t even had a chart-topping single yet. Plus, without all my stage makeup on and my hair in a messy braid, I just look like your average Midwestern girl.

I stretch, trying to work out the knots in my back after sitting through the flight with my arms practically tucked around my body. My middle seat in coach put me right between two very large men who smelled strongly of garlic. I thought about writing, but I didn’t want to move, let alone get my notebook out and have them stare at what I was doing. So I kept myself immobile, which explains the knots in my back.

Anyway, my thoughts were probably too jumbled to do anything more than massacre the song ideas I jotted down today while I waited for Justin. I know I have a good one percolating, but it’s still just out of reach. I can’t find the right words quite yet, which might be to blame on my mental state.

But the upside is I’m back in Nashville, and Tana’s Range Rover is idling at the curb when I step out of the sliding glass doors of the airport.

The window slides down as she waves me over. “Get your ass in here before I get towed!”

I smile, relieved to feel a little of my shitty mood slipping away. Opening the door, I slide inside.

“Your luggage get lost?” She surveys the one small bag I shove down by my feet.

“Nope. This is it.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, please God, tell me that he made you go naked and that’s why you have no clothes other than the ones you probably wore when you flew to New York on New Year’s Eve.”

Tana was aware of every intimate detail of my trip, and disagreed with my choice to bring nothing but myself.

I smile at her expression. “No naked rule. I just . . . felt like traveling light.”

Her eyebrows fall back into their normal position and her smile slips into a frown. “Please don’t tell me this has something to do with your mom and her hooking up with every man in town and letting them pay her way.”

And that’s the joy of having a friend who has plied you with enough wine to spill your whole life story. But in this instance, she’s not exactly right. The reasons I left New York are a lot bigger than that.

“Tana—”

“Damn it, Selena. I knew this was going to happen. I knew it.”

I really don’t want to have this conversation now, because Tana will want to dissect not only what happened with Justin, but why I’m acting the way I am. I’m too worried about missing the bus to play along while she psychoanalyzes my actions in light of what she knows about my past. I love her, but I just can’t right now. So I tell her the truth.

“Can we hold off on this conversation until I’m not on the edge of being late for a tour bus leaving? I really, really just want to get to my apartment and grab my stuff so I can get on the bus and forget about everything but the music.”

“You’re not missing the friggin’ bus. I’ll get you home as quick as a cab would.” She gives me a side-eye. “But you’re gonna talk while I drive.”

I sigh and stare straight ahead as she pulls away from the curb and waves to the security guy eyeing her car suspiciously. Her head jerks toward me before she focuses once again on navigating through airport traffic.

“Talk, woman.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“That your husband knows exactly where you are, and you’re not a runaway bride.”

“Har-har. I’m hardly a runaway bride. That requires running away before the vows, I think.”

She cuts through my bullshit answer. “Does your husband know where you are?”

I fix my stare on the red light as we slow. “I left a note.”

“Which said?”

I should have known Tana wouldn’t drop it. She’s a damn bulldog about getting the details. If she weren’t my closest and possibly only friend, I’d tell her to back off. But instead, I tell her the truth.

“It said good-bye.” My reply is a mumble, because I know I’m about to get a verbal bitch-slapping.

Her screech, which is oddly melodic, fills the cabin of the Range Rover. “Why would you do that? Did he hit you?”

I swing my head to face her. “No! Of course not!” I can’t believe she’d even ask that.

She glances back at me before her eyes go back to the road, and we accelerate. “So then, what happened? He’s a billionaire, so maybe he was into that kinky Christian Grey stuff? Did he have a Red Room of Pain? Oh my God, he did, didn’t he? Did he spank you? Bring out his riding crop? Shit. That’s hot.”

I cover my face with my palm. I don’t even know where to start, but I have to say something or she’ll keep going. Her imagination is just getting fired up. And God knows I don’t want her to actually hit on the truth.

But how do I answer that? He did spank me, and I loved it. And then the . . . other stuff. Kinky billionaire, indeed.

“He didn’t get out a riding crop, and there was no Red Room of Pain.”

Thankfully, the answer stops her tide of kinky questions.

Shaking her head, she replies, “Well, that’s just damn disappointing. So, are you just crazy? Who walks out on a billionaire with a note that just says good-bye? Oh, and doesn’t bring anything with her? That’s evidence of crazy right there, if I’ve ever seen any.”

I decide that the truth is all I can offer in my defense. “Look, you know I need to be on that bus or I’m screwed. I couldn’t wait any longer, so I did what I had to do.” I turn and look at her. “I did exactly what you would’ve done in my shoes—what was best for my career.”

“I would’ve hitched a ride on a private jet, that’s what I would’ve done. Girl, you’ve gotta learn to use what you’ve been given to your best advantage.”

Her words crack something open inside me and the truth spills out.

“Well, I couldn’t exactly hop a ride on the private jet because he forgot about me.” At her look of shock, I continue. “Yeah, that’s right. My husband forgot about me. Told me when he’d be there, and he wasn’t. And not only was he not there, he didn’t answer my calls or texts, so finally I got through to his number-two guy and basically got the blow-off speech. So that’s what happened. End of story.”

“Oh shit, honey. I’m sorry. That ain’t cool at all.” Sympathy coats her every word.

“Well, it’s not like I’m the most important piece on the chessboard he calls an empire.”

Tana looks at me sideways as we merge onto the highway. “But, honey, you’re his queen. I don’t know jack shit about chess, but is there a more important piece on the board to the king?”

A sick feeling settles in my stomach. “I guess to Justin, he’s the most important piece on the board, and everything else can be sacrificed for the good of the king.”

Tana’s face falls. “I’m sorry, hon. That sucks big hairy balls. So I guess that means you’re not going to call him and let him know you made it, despite not having a fancy jet to fly on, huh?”

I consider it again. I mean, if I were a real wife, I’d probably tell him I made it. But honestly, what are the odds that Justin has even noticed I’m gone yet? He couldn’t step away for thirty seconds before.

And then there’s the mulishly stubborn part of me holding on to some thin thread of hope that maybe Justin will call me. And then what? Apologize for blowing me off? Tell me he misses me, and he’s on his way because he can’t stand to be away from me?

Each possibility seems more unlikely than the last.

Tana doesn’t ask any other questions as we navigate the traffic and finally pull up in front of my apartment. It’s a far cry from the giant mansion on a sprawling estate behind fancy gates like Tana lives in. But that’s life as a new kid on the block trying to make it big.

My contract with Homegrown might have sounded impressive when I won the show Country Dreams, but “a million-dollar recording contract” doesn’t go very far when you consider how much it costs to produce an album. For the hours I put into practicing, writing, doing press, radio spots, and everything else, I barely make minimum wage. On top of that, my cut from concert ticket and album sales is laughable.

Even though it was a rude awakening to find out exactly what I signed with such stars in my eyes, it doesn’t bother me as much as you might think. Most of the people I know who didn’t get into the business on one of those make-me-a-star TV shows lived in crappier accommodations for a time before they hit it big.

Some even lived in their cars—provided they didn’t get repo’d. Jason Aldean’s song “Crazy Town” was based in truth. You just never know when or if you’re going to “make it.” You really could be losing everything one minute and then be getting a fat paycheck the next. It’s the game we’re all playing and hoping to win. There are no guarantees for any of us.

“Thank you for the ride, babe. You know I appreciate it.”

“Of course. You sure you don’t want me to stick around?”

I shake my head. “I just need to grab a few things and find out where the bus is parked.” Glancing at the time on the dash, I realize I’ve got less than an hour. “I better get going.”

“All right, hon. You break a leg on that stage, hear me? And when that man comes crawling back to you—because if he knows the kind of woman he’s got, he’ll be doing exactly that—give him a chance.”

I swing my head to stare at her. “Give him a chance? I thought you were going to tell me to rip him a new asshole. Why—?”

Tana’s blue eyes are sympathetic. “You’ve got a lot of mistrust built up because of your ma, and you have to realize you’re not her. Your life is what you make of it, and I’m still holding out some hope that this guy is worthy of you. Give him a chance to grovel. A man’s character has a tendency to get really fucking clear when he’s groveling because the best thing that ever happened to him is on the line.”

I try to summon a smile, but I can’t quite do it. “I guess we’ll see if he comes groveling at all.” I lean over the center console to hug her. “See you soon.”

“Knock ’em dead, hon,” Tana says as I slip out of the car.

Hurrying, I adjust my purse over my shoulder and hustle up to my apartment. The first thing I see when I open my door is my old battered guitar case tucked under my coffee table.

My first ever. I fried thousands of onion rings and tater tots in order to buy this guitar from Super Pawn. It took me almost a year to save up, and then when I finally had the cash in hand and went to the pawnshop, the owner offered me a disgusting back-office discount.

Furious, I threw the bills on the counter, not bothering to haggle, and told him to give me the damn guitar before I reported him to the cops for soliciting sex with a minor. It was so much less than what I wanted to do—namely, grab the baseball bat from behind the counter and swing it at his head. I left minutes later with my very first guitar and never looked back.

A million years ago, it seems. Just look how much has changed.

I’m halfway down the tiny hallway to my bedroom when my phone buzzes in my purse. Justin is my first thought. My hand shakes as I dig inside to pull it out.

My heart—my stupid heart—falls when I see the text is from my manager.

Chance: Where the hell are you? You better be on your way. BT is almost ready to head out.

Shit. I run into my bedroom and grab a suitcase from my closet, and stuff handfuls of underwear and bras in it. A few pairs of yoga pants and some T-shirts and jeans, and I’m pretty much packed.

I reply to Chance.

Selena: Just finished packing. On my way. Where’s the bus?

Chance’s answer makes me cringe.

Chance: At BT’s. I left your name at the gate.

Double shit. BT is Boone Thrasher—the headliner of the tour I’m currently on. His place isn’t in one of those fancy neighborhoods behind a regular gate like Tana’s. No, he lives out in the boondocks where he can shoot skeet off his back porch, ride his dirt bikes on his own track, and his dogs can run wild and bark at everything in sight.

If I’m going to get to his place on time, I’ll need every minute I’ve got. I’ve been there once before, when he invited me out to meet him before agreeing to have me on his tour. He wanted to make sure I wasn’t going to be—in his words—some whiny-ass bitch who would make him miserable. We hit it off when I kicked his ass at bowling in his basement lane. You can take the girl out of the bowling alley . . .

Time to get my ass in gear and hustle, but my phone buzzes again.

Chance: Good news. He wants to rehearse that duet you talked about before Christmas. Get your ass here and make it happen.

I toss my phone on the bed and do a little fist pump before tearing off my jeans and blouse to throw on something clean and get the hell out of here. This duet would mean getting to go back out onstage during his set where I can feel the energy coming from his fans when they’re all whipped up and excited for him.

As the first act, I generally play to a less-than-full stadium, when people are a little more concerned about making sure they have full beers than they are about paying attention to my music. Well, except for the fans who actually come to see me.

But this is where everyone starts, I remind myself, and I’m crazy lucky that I’m on tour with Boone Thrasher to begin with. And the duet? That’s huge.

I spend thirty seconds freshening up my makeup and shoving my toiletries in my makeup bag before slipping into the battered brown-and-black cowboy boots I bought for my eighteenth birthday. Which was the fourth birthday in a row that my mama didn’t even bother to send a card.

Pushing that thought away, because it was just one more piece of baggage that Tana was talking about when she dropped me off, I grab my jacket and head for the door.

Despite his badass reputation, Boone’s a good guy. A really good guy. His tiny, gorgeous, chart-topping girlfriend is a lucky lady. But from what I’ve seen of her, I’m not so sure she’s aware of that fact. She’s actually kind of a bitch. And by kind of, I mean, she’s a total Grade-A, possessive, catty bitch.

Not that I’d ever tell Boone that. These lips don’t do the gossip thing. One negative word to the wrong person, and I’d be screwed. So I just keep my opinions to myself. The world of country music isn’t so different from high school.

I lock my apartment door behind me and hoof it down the stairs and out to the covered parking where my 1998 Pontiac Firebird waits for me. And yes, I’m completely aware that what was cool in 1998 is not quite so cool now. Which means that I got a killer deal on it when my 1988 Fiero kicked the bucket just before I got my golden audition ticket for Country Dreams.

I suppose I could buy a little bit newer car with the semi-regular paycheck I get now, but the Firebird still gets me from A to B, and I prefer to save my money for a rainy day. If there’s one thing that I’ve learned about this town, it’s that everything can change in a moment.

Thirty-five minutes later, I pull up at the gates of Boone’s place, and a man built like a brick shithouse comes out of the guard shack and bends down to my window. I open the door—because the window doesn’t work anymore—and he smiles.

“I got the same problem with my Grand Prix. Fucking Pontiacs,” he says.

“You got that right. I’m Selena—”

“Yep. Know who you are, sweet thing. They’re waiting on you. Buses are here and ready to go too.” He backs away from my car and activates the gate opener.

I swing my door shut and drive through. Sure enough, two tour buses are parked in front of the house set off from the road by almost a mile-long driveway. I pull into a small parking lot-size area beside the garage and shut off my car.

I need to get in there and find Chance and make sure he reports in that I wasn’t late before someone at the label starts checking, looking to boot me off. As soon as the thought hits my brain, the man in question knocks on the window of my car and opens the door.

“You need to replace this piece of shit, girl. And why the hell didn’t you answer your phone?”

I frown at Chance. “What are you talking about? I answered your texts.”

He pulls me out of my car by the hand. “Well, you didn’t answer when I called you five times to ask you to pick me up some Johnny Walker on the way. The bus is out, and Boone wants some for the road.”

“Crap. I must’ve had my radio on too loud. It’s on vibrate.” I reach back into my car to grab my purse and start rooting through it to find my phone.

“Your suitcase in the trunk?” Chance asks.

I nod, not looking up from my task, and he reaches around me to pop the trunk. By the time he has my suitcase in hand, I’m starting to panic.

“Where the hell is my phone?” I mumble. “I had it.”

“Come on, girl. Let’s move it. We won’t get to San Antonio with you standing here digging through your purse.”

I jerk my head up and stare at him. “San Antonio? I thought Dallas was next.”

Chance shakes his head. “Nope. That’s why we’re leaving early. Boone signed up to do a last-minute charity gig, and you’re along for the ride. Dallas is after that, so it’s not that far off.”

Dropping my purse on the ground, I bend over and look between the seats and the console to see if my phone slid down. Chance, clearly impatient with me, calls it. I wait, but there’s no telltale buzz or vibration.

“Shit. I must’ve left it in my apartment.”

“No time to go back for it, so you’ll have to have someone get it for you and overnight it to you. I’ll get the hotel address.”

I huff out a long sigh. Shit. I don’t even know if I have Tana’s number to ask her to go back to my place and grab it . . . but then again, I bet Chance or Boone does. Between the two of them, they seem to have everyone’s number in this town.

“You ready to rehearse?”

“What?” I ask, my mind still on how to retrieve my phone.

“The duet. ‘That Girl.’ Boone wants to play some acoustic stuff on the bus, so you’re riding with him. I made sure you’ve got a guitar on there already. Now come on, let’s go.”

Chance leads me by the arm up to the house to say hi to the guys before we all climb up the stairs. All my worries slip away once I let myself fall into the easy bullshitting and name-calling with the guys. And once I’m on the bus with Boone, I let myself go in the music.

It’s a couple of hours and who knows how much whiskey later when we stop so the guys can grab a smoke. I stumble onto my own bus—one that I’ll be sharing with my band and maybe the other opening act, if they don’t have their own bus. No one has seen fit to share that detail with me yet. But because it’s out of my control, I don’t waste any more time thinking about it.

Some drunk hope makes me think that maybe I missed my phone in my search of the purse, so I dump the entire contents out on the kitchenette table.

A handful of tampons. A dozen or so lip glosses and lipsticks. A lighter—not sure where that came from, since I don’t smoke. My wallet. My car keys. My songwriting notebook. My smaller backup songwriting notebook. Six pens, in all different colors. Two pencils. Gum. Gum wrappers. Loose change. Lint.

Still no phone.

Before I left Boone’s bus, I asked Chance for Tana’s number, just in case. He wrote it on my palm in Sharpie with big block letters saying Call Me above it.

I make my way up to the bus driver’s seat.

“Hey, Chaz?”

“Ma’am?”

“Told you to call me Selena a dozen times, Chaz.” Maybe more than a dozen, if I’m being honest.

“Yes, Ms. Selena.”

“Can I borrow your phone?”

“Sure thing.” He grabs it from the pocket in the side of his seat and hands it over, all without ever taking his eyes off the road.

“Thanks.”

I stumble back to the couch and position my thumb over the number pad. I glance down at my palm, and I know the person I should be calling instead of Tana is Justin.

But you didn’t merit a phone call from him, the hurt inside me protests. It’s true, but still.

I drop my head to the back of the couch when it hits me that even if I wanted to call Justin, I don’t know any of his numbers by heart, and it’s not like I can just call Information or something. I could google Karas International, but what is the likelihood they’ll ever put me through to his personal line? Even when I had that number, his secretary didn’t believe that I was me at first.

My best bet is getting my phone back.

I punch in Tana’s number, and she answers after I call her three times in a row.

“Hello?” Her voice is suspicious as shit, and I realize she doesn’t recognize the number. Plus it’s almost midnight.

“It’s me. Selena. Sorry for calling so late.”

“Oh, hey, hon. No worries. You know I’m up at all hours anyway. What’s up? The man come track you down already?”

I squeeze my eyes shut. Hell, even if Justin wanted to track me down right now, I think even he’d be SOL. I’m on a bus on a highway headed for a tour stop not on my tour list.

But then again, I guess I don’t know what kind of resources he has at his disposal, or if he’d use them to come after me. The hope rising in my chest, the hope that started blossoming that night we ate Sixteen Candles style on the dining room table, wants desperately for him to come chasing after me with an apology.

“Selena?”

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