"You have yet to finish the tour," I smiled crookedly at him. "Where's your bedroom?"

He bit his lip, gesturing toward the other end of the hall. "Follow me."

He took my hand in his, leading me down the opposite end of the hall to a closed door. I wasn't sure what exactly I was expecting when he opened it, but my breath caught slightly when he did.

All the walls were white, covered with more photographs, and a few plaques he had earned throughout the years being in the music industry.

In the middle of the large room was a king-sized bed with a black comforter and gray pillows. He had a large dark dresser on one end of the room and a matching desk and bedside tables; his desk housed his laptop and a bunch of notebooks that looked as if they had been shuffled through the night before.

A TV hung from the wall opposite his bed; he also had an old PS2 gaming system on the floor beneath it. Beside his bedside table was a record player; a few records laying beside it.

The room was sophisticated-looking; a lot more than I would've pegged him for.

Toward the opposite end of the room was a door, which was half ajar, exposing a few of his outfits; his walk-in closet. Beside the door were a few pairs of shoes lazily tossed out of the way. On that side of the wall were also shelves, which housed framed photos of him and the band and some more people I didn't recognize.

He led me into the room, closing the door behind him. I hadn't noticed my bags on the floor beside his bed until now. I took a few steps, glancing around the room once more before my eyes rested him.

"What do you think?" he asked, walking toward his bed.

I nodded slowly. "Impressed, to be honest," I said truthfully. I walked over to him as he sat down. "I wasn't expecting this."

He chuckled lightly. "I cleaned out a drawer for you, in case you want to put your clothes away," he shared. "I hate living in suitcases. I can imagine you're the same."

I nodded. "How thoughtful of you," I said, now standing in front of him.

He grabbed my waist, pulling me toward him. A smirk was slowly forming on his face as I rested my arms on his shoulders. "I didn't realize how much I missed your ass until you were standing in front of me," he began, glancing up at my face.

There was a twinkle in his blue eyes that made me smile.

"Do you mean that figuratively or literally?" I intervened. I began to giggle as his hands roamed below my hips to cup my rear.

"Oh, both, trust me," he grinned, squeezing it, which made me laugh loudly.

He pulled me toward closer him, his fingers now grazing along my bare stomach underneath my top; my stomach began to do little flips causing me to bite my lip; I missed this feeling.

"Oh, I wanted to tell you this in person," I exclaimed, running my hands through his blonde hair. "I finally picked out a single."

He grinned immediately, noticing my excitement. "What did you pick?" He asked.

"Well, it was a tough decision to make. There's this new song I'm working on called Dream Team, and I thought maybe that should be it, but it isn't finished yet, so I'm hoping it'll be the second single." I shrugged. "I chose I'm Ready," I smiled, leaning toward him. "I think it gives people a better understanding of who I am."

Flashbacks raced through my mind of the day I had recorded that song. It was coincidentally also the first time we really had spent any quality time together. That day was the beginning of this, whether I wanted to admit it or not at the time.

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