Chapter Five

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Conor stormed into the room and slammed the door behind him, then flopped face down on the bed and screamed into a pillow for a few seconds. Carefully, I placed my toothbrush into the glass by the sink and walked out of the bathroom into the hotel bedroom and sat on the bed beside him, moving my hand up and down his back soothingly.

'So it went well then?' I mused after a few seconds, and he rolled over onto his back, staring at the ceiling.

'No.'

'What happened?'

'Vlogs,' he spat. Then, glancing at me and catching my look of incomprehension, 'McKinney wants us to make vlogs.'

'So? That's a good idea. You were thinking of doing something like that anyway, weren't you? You have millions of followers on Instagram and you can put videos on there now.'

Conor sat up, leaning on his elbows, and glared at me. I didn't take it personally; he was always in a bad mood after getting off the phone with his label rep. 'Yes,' he admitted grudgingly. 'But I don't like being told to do it by him. And anyway, I wanted Name Withheld to do vlogs, alone. He says we have to do it with The Tiny Manatees.' With which he flopped back down on the bed.

I raised an eyebrow. 'How come Sean McKinney gets to boss the Tiny Manatees around in their spare time? Or at all?'

'They're on the same label as us, just the British branch,' Conor mumbled distractedly.

'Ah.'

We had just arrived at the hotel in Camden, where the tour was kicking off – tour bus was out and hotel was in, apparently – and hadn't even met Arthur Rollings or the rest of The Tiny Manatees yet, but it was becoming increasingly obvious that Conor wasn't exactly looking forward to it. A mixture of jealousy, intimidation, and insecurity seemed to emanate from him every time anybody brought it up, and I was getting the feeling he'd like to spend as little of his free time around them as possible. McKinney, it appeared, had different ideas.

'It might be fun,' I chanced, knowing it was pointless; and, predictably, Conor propped himself back up on his elbows to give me an incredulous, disgusted look, before groaning and crawling in under the covers of the bed to hide.

Rolling my eyes but unable to keep myself from grinning, I crawled across the bed to sit on the lumpy shape he was making.

'Getoff,' he mumbled.

Instead, I bounced a little.

'Getoffffffffff.'

I bounced some more.

Then I was suddenly thrown onto my back and Conor's face was inches from mine, his jet black gaze smouldering down at me as my heart rate increased tenfold.

What looked like was about to become an epic make-out session was interrupted before it could even start by the sound of a knock on the door. Coolly, Conor rolled off the bed and went to answer it while I straightened myself up and grabbed a pillow to hide my... Excitement.

'What?' Conor demanded, and I could see Sally smirking over his shoulder, knowing she'd interrupted something.

'They're downstairs at the bar,' she said, and I could practically see my boyfriend deflate on the spot. 'See you down there in five,' she added, chucking him on the chin before leaving.

Conor walked back into the room and tried to crawl back under the covers, but I knelt up and caught his face before he could, kissing him hard on the mouth.

'What was that for?' he asked when I pulled away.

'For being amazing,' I told him, settling back on the bed to take a nap while he did band stuff. 'So put your big boy pants on and get it over with.'

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