Remix. Part 26

RUBY.

Wexler has brought me back to the "van" a term I took too literally. The thing he's leading me towards is not a van it's a f.u.c.king house. Admittedly, one with wheels.

"What are you waiting for?" Wexler looks around, confused as to why I'm still standing on the gra.s.s, as if I'm not playing the part I'm supposed to. It makes me wonder what kind of reaction he was expecting.

A bubble of doubt spirals up from the depths of my thoughts: I've never had s.e.x with someone I wasn't going out with.

But as soon as it hits the surface, it pops and the feeling's gone.

"I'm waiting for you to lead the way," I say and take a step after him onto the bus.

28 * IN MOTION

RUBY.

There are a lot of people in here. Too many. I find myself pressed into a corner, clutching a bottle of beer in each fist, watching as the band laugh and shout and flirt with girls older than me the seven-foot tall ones with loads of make-up and an air of experience about them. When I walked in, the guitarist called out, "Belt Girl!" and handed me bottles from the bucket next to him.

"I see you've already made friends with Marc," Wexler said. "He only gives beer to the pretty ones."

I'd held up my two bottles and said quietly enough that Marc wouldn't hear, "I'm glad he's so shallow."

Before I could lean away again, Wexler held me back. "I'm glad he's not the one you're here with."

It might have been a compliment, but it left me feeling a bit weird, like there's a chance Marc could ever have had me, like I'm a prize and not a person... I find I've drunk one of the bottles already, but since I don't know where to put it, I just hold on to it whilst sipping nervously at the other. Before he could sit down with me, Wexler got sidetracked by someone I don't know their manager, I guess, since he looks way older than everyone else. They're obviously talking about something to do with me and I watch the man glance over at me as Wexler says, "Don't worry, it's fine."

I don't think he knows I'm listening, but Manager Man does. "It's not," he says, pulling Wexler further down the bus.

The leather of the seat pinches at the back of my knees as I s.h.i.+ft my weight.

My second beer is gone.

The tide of l.u.s.t that swept me ash.o.r.e is drawing back in Wexler's absence. I peel the labels off the bottles and roll the paper into thin tubes before I notice I'm being stared at. It's one of the girls sitting at the table with the guitarist. She doesn't turn away when she sees me looking, but gets up and comes over.

"s.h.i.+ft up," she says and I obey, aware of the bare skin of this stranger's leg pressing against mine as we squash onto the seat. "I'm Kaya."

"Ruby." My voice sounds as small as I feel next to this G.o.ddess. She smells like expensive perfume and her hair is smooth and s.h.i.+ny as is her skin.

"So you're with Adam?"

I nod.

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen," I lie automatically.

"I mean how old are you now, not how old are you in three years' time."

I smile a thin smile and tell the truth. "I'm sixteen." Kaya looks like she doesn't believe me. "I'm telling the truth."

Kaya lays a hand on my thigh as she leans closer. "I'm only looking out for you, sweetie. Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Her eyes are accented by perfectly applied liner and her lashes are so long I'm sure they can't be real. She is much more beautiful than me. Much more worldly. "Look. Go and get some air. Clear your head. This might not be the right scene for someone like you."

Presumably it is for someone like her. "Are you his girlfriend or something?"

Kaya throws her head back and laughs, making me feel even smaller. "Adam only sleeps with people prepared to wors.h.i.+p him. I don't wors.h.i.+p anyone." As she stops laughing, she stares at me. "But you do, don't you?"

I don't know what to say to this.

Kaya plucks the empty bottles from my hands and nods towards the other end of the bus. "Take a breather. You can always come back if this is what you want."

Doing as I'm told, I stand up too quickly, then nearly fall over as I try to step over the tangle of legs stretched out across the width of the tour bus, like I'm playing a game of ladders in the school hall. The guitarist Marc stands up in front of me and declares he's going to the toilet. He waves a little plastic bag at the people at the table.

"Want to join me, Belt Girl?" He's smiling a little intensely and I realize this probably isn't his first trip there.

"I..." I've no experience of turning down hardcore drugs. No one has ever offered me anything stronger than a bit of weed. "No, thanks, I'm fine for the, um ..." this is painful "... drugs. Thanks for offering. It was, er, nice of you."

The table behind me erupts into laughter.

I hurry towards the end of the bus and the exit I can almost taste my relief as I get there...

"Ruby?" Adam Wexler is on the step below me, his face level with mine, hands clamped around the rails, arms stretching across the width of the exit. "You OK?"

No. "Yes. Just need a bit of air."

"Those guys can be a bit much. I'm sorry I left you. PR emergency."

There's no sign of Manager Man.

"Is your emergency over, then?"

He stares at me for a moment. "It's just getting started..." And he kisses me. It's less urgent, less adult than our last kiss, but when I kiss him a little harder, he responds and my confidence grows. This is something I know how to do.

When he breaks away I feel drunk, as if Wexler's kiss contained five times more alcohol than those beers. He runs his hands under my vest and it's hard not to think of Stu's hands doing the same...

How I'd feel less on edge if it was.

"Everything all right?"

I nod quickly. I don't want Wexler to be Stu that's kind of the point.

"Come on," he murmurs, slipping his hand in mine, guiding me back inside the bus towards a door I a.s.sumed was a toilet.

It is not a toilet.

I shut the door behind me and lean against it, my legs a little wobbly at the sight of what's inside. A bed. And Adam Wexler: the man I've dreamed about, whose lyrics I've cried to, whose voice I've sung along to, whose eyes have looked out at me from a thousand different pictures in magazines and online.

I am not entirely sure how I got here, but Past Ruby would totally be high-fiving Present Ruby right about now.

Hooking a finger in the belt he signed, Wexler pulls me gently towards him, then he leans forward and kisses my cheek, murmuring in my ear, "If I sang you a song ..."

It's the start of "Tonight Too Soon" my favourite song.

"... filled with loving and longing ..."

This feels like a line, but the way he's kissing my neck and ...

"... you would give yourself over ..."

... pus.h.i.+ng aside the strap of my vest and my bra to kiss my shoulder.

"... to want and belonging ..."

He pulls off my vest to kiss my collarbone and reaches down.

"... I want what you've got ..."

And unclicks the clasp.

"... and I get what I want ..."

To kiss the bare skin of my b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"... so give in to me now ..."

I take a step back, falling onto the mattress of the bed behind and pulling him down on top of me. I am in this.

"... because I want ..." A kiss. "... want ..." Nip. "... want..." Bite.

And as I part my lips for another kiss, I do not let myself consider that this might not be what I want, want, want.

Because I do want this.

Don't I?

29 * YOU ARE

KAZ.

It almost comes as a shock to find Roly back at the camp with Stella and her friends. I was starting to think he'd left completely. There's no sign of Tom and Naj, which is a relief.

I make Roly promise to stay near in case Lauren needs help and I give her a hug goodbye, aware that Roly's surprise at seeing us together has risen an octave into shock.

He had every chance to tell me the truth yesterday and he didn't.

I don't like Roly. I don't like Naj.

I don't even know whether I like Tom any more.

I like Lauren though.

And I like Sebastian, who is nothing like Tom in any way shape or form, but I don't want him to be. Every word he's said to me has been kind, and as we amble back along the path, after we pa.s.s a man sitting in the middle of the path wearing a T-s.h.i.+rt on his head, Sebastian pulls me to a stop.

I think that he's going to kiss me, but what he actually does is a thousand times more romantic than that.

"Do you want to try looking for your friend?" Sebastian asks.

It makes me want to wrap my arms around him and never let him go.

Whilst I try Ruby again, Sebastian calls his friends, but Ferris, who's backstage packing up, says he's not seen her and when we get to our camp it's empty, tents zipped up tight, fire cold. I go in and check for Ruby in the tent anyway, just in case.

When I come back out, Sebastian's talking to someone Owen.

"Have you seen Ruby?" I ask right away, but he shakes his head.

"Your friend already asked."

"Do you think she's with Lee and the others?"

"What makes you think I know where Lee is?" Owen's voice is sharp.

"You're his-" But the look he gives me strangles the meaning out of my sentence. "I'll call him."