This One is Too

Chapter Nine

Hudson

"I think I'm going to ask Josie out on a date at our next stop."

I rip my shirt over my head and toss it onto the couch of the bus.

This isn't the conversation I wanted to hear after finishing two back-to-back shows.

"She's hot, dude. Kind of keeps to herself, though."

"I think she's just shy. I could bring the shy right out of her."

I grip the arm of the couch, debating how shitty it would make me to punch Jake in the face.

I've got no claim on Josie, but the way he's talking about her makes me irate.

I haven't told them about my past with Josie. I'm not sure why. It wouldn't harm anything, and it would get them to lay off.

But I don't want to claim her like that.

Josie was once mine. I didn't need to piss on her to make sure everyone knew and I won't do it now.

She isn't mine either way.

Amelia has pulled away from me completely, and things have been tense.

That's why it's a bad idea to get involved with someone at work.

In my defense, I couldn't have foreseen this.

I didn't think I'd ever see Josie again.

Or, I thought if I did, it wouldn't be like this. I'm such close quarters with her. She's everywhere all the time.

Something has been bothering me.

The other night, when I asked her why she'd done what she did, she acted like she didn't know what I was talking about with the text.

It was sent minutes after we'd gotten off the phone. For her to not remember saying something so brutal to me...

I shake my head. I'm being irrational.

Josie said it. There's no other option.

But still, it nags at me.

Why won't she tell me her reason?

I can handle it. Whatever it was, why won't she just tell me why she wasn't happy with me?

It's driving me crazy.

I head into my small bedroom. A black comforter is rumpled on the bed, and sleek beige walls close the room off from the rest of the bus.

I'm not a particularly messy person, but on tour, my things are always littered around the room.

I could hire people to keep my space tidy. Hell, I could hire people to do a lot of shit I still do for myself.

Having money is nice, and I've splurged.

But the one thing I always hated to see was a person who'd come into money and changed.

Therefore, if I don't pick up my room or make my bed, it's fucking messy. No one there to clean up my messes for me.

It keeps me humble, in a weird way. Both literally— in the sense that I have to clean up after myself.  And figuratively— in general. It's up to me to fix my life if there is a problem.

It can get into your head when hundreds of thousands of people are screaming for you, singing words you threw together, acting like you're a god when in public.

Speaking of ways I stay humble...

I'm overdue for a call with my sister.

It's a little after midnight, so it should only be ten where she's at.