Along for the Ride Read online

  See you there.

  I quickly pulled my hair up and got dressed.

  My phone buzzed a few minutes later.

  We’re downstairs in the lobby getting some coffee for Connor. Meet me. Love, Mom.

  “We need to get a move on,” Mom said, as I joined her and Connor. “You have to sound check first.”

  “Why do I have to leave before Skyline?” Connor asked.

  “You’re the headliner,” Mom explained for the millionth time.

  “You always sound check first.”

  “Well maybe this headliner could sound check a little later next time?” he grumbled.

  “Real humble,” I said.

  Mom pushed open the back door to the arena, holding it open for the two of us.

  Connor’s band was starting the sound check on stage as we weaved through the back hallways. Inside Connor’s dressing room, his outfits were already preset for tonight, and along the mirror was an assortment of hair products and a curling wand.

  “And people think that’s natural,” I said, bouncing one of his curls.

  “If they only knew,” he teased.

  A knock came on the door, and Dad walked in, followed by another man.

  “Great,” Connor said, setting down his coffee mug. “Is he here to tape me up?”

  Dad nodded. “And then you’ve got to get to stage.”

  “Tape you up?” I asked, as the man pulled out a bag. “Like your wrist?”

  “No, I like to wear tape around my head,” Connor deadpanned.

  “It’s the new fad I’m trying to start.”

  “You know, all your fans would start doing it if you did.”

  Connor chuckled, then winced as the tape clearly wound around a tender spot.

  “Sorry,” the medic apologized.

  “It’s fine,” Connor said.

  “He’s dramatic,” I added. “You get used to it.”

  Connor shot me a disapproving look. “Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”

  I stood up. “I’m going to go FaceTime Jenica.”

  “Tell her I say hi!” Connor called after me.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t!” I called over my shoulder.

  I sat in the hallway scrolling through my social media pages while I listened to Connor run through his sound check. I tried FaceTiming Jenica, but the signal was terrible, so I went to the arena side doors to try to get a better signal outside. As soon as I opened the door, I realized my mistake. There were a group of girls standing outside, decked out in Connor Jackson T-shirts and posters.

  “OMG!” a voice screamed. “It’s Katelyn Jackson!” They sprinted toward me, swarming me so I was unable to escape.

  “You’re, like, totally pretty in real life,” one girl said, a smile on her face. “What’s Connor like in person?”

  “Like . . . a human?”

  The girls giggled, and I tried to inch farther away.

  “Excuse me, girls,” a voice said.

  “Oh my God, it’s Zach Matthews!” one of the girls screamed.

  Zach is here? Right now? I turned to see Zach stepping out of a taxi, his eyes connecting with mine.

  “Uh, hey . . . Zach,” I said, desperately trying—and failing—to sound casual.

  He came over to the group, a teasing smile on his face. “I’m sorry, guys. But I’m going to have to steal Katelyn away to a meeting.” He reached out and grabbed my arm. “Very important, time sensitive.”

  He knows my name he knows my name oh my God he knows my name.

  I’m sure my eyes were as wide as everyone else’s as he lightly pulled me back to the door. “I hope you guys understand,” he said, before opening the door and hurrying me inside.

  A tingling sensation ran down into my hands as I tried to calm my nerves. I was standing next to Zach. Matthews. He was perfect in person. Say something, Katelyn.

  “Thanks,” I said. My voice was a pitch higher than normal.

  He leaned against the inside of the door, that teasing smile still playing on his lips. “It’s no problem. Those girls were next-level fans.

  Those are the ones I try to keep at an arm’s length,” he said.

  The fans who’d been clamoring after him, desperate for his attention.

  Ridiculous. Not like my legs were currently turning to jelly as I tried to formulate complete sentences in his presence.

  He was close enough to brush his arm against mine, close enough so that I could smell his Old Spice deodorant. Looking up at him at this proximity made my breath catch in my throat. Freckles spattered across his cheeks, and he was undeniably attractive. I felt as though I was going to melt in my shoes as his eyes met mine. I’d never imagined being this close to Zach Matthews.

  He reached up and ran his fingers through his already messy hair.

  I nearly reached up to smooth it back into place but caught myself just in time.

  Stop staring, Katelyn. My eyes traveled down the hallway as I tried to think of something else to say.

  “We should probably head toward the dressing rooms,” Zach said. “Before my brothers send a search party for me. And I’m sure your mom is looking for you too.”

  Heat spread across my cheeks. “You heard her last night?”

  Zach laughed, the sound filling the space around us. It was a deep, husky laugh that sent a warmth radiating across my chest.

  “She cares about you,” Zach said.

  I heard a buzzing sound, and I quickly checked my phone. Nothing.

  Zach’s eyes slid down to his smart watch, his lips pulling into a slight frown as he checked the text coming through. As he lifted his hand to read the message, I couldn’t help but notice the faded lyrics written on his hand.

  “What song is that for?” I asked.

  His gaze followed mine, and he flipped over his hand. “The second verse for ‘Rhythm of the Night.’” His voice took on a bit of a gruff tone, leading me to believe that I’d hit a nerve.

  “I love the drum solo in that song, Ross kills it every time.”

  “It’d be even better if I didn’t screw up the lyrics every time. I practice every day and still feel like I can’t get it right.”

  What he just described was something every athlete feels every day. Oh my God I had just discovered common ground.

  “What do you do when you feel like you’re forgetting the lyrics?”

  I asked.

  For me, whenever I felt as though I wasn’t playing to my full potential, I would hold up a hand toward Jenica. And she would mimic a high five. It was something silly, something we’d invented as kids playing on opposite sides of the field. But it always gave me a boost of confidence.

  “Look at my hand,” Zach said, “and hope I wrote the lyrics down.”

  Maybe Zach needed a ritual of his own.

  “Do you have a marker?” I asked.

  He reached into the pocket of his sweatpants, pulling out a permanent marker. “I’m always ready to sign some autographs. Where would you like it?”

  I took the marker from him, pulling his hand toward me. “Trust me.”

  He did so without question. I traced a rest note right below his thumb.

  Small enough to be ignored, but large enough to notice if you tried.

  “What’s this?” he asked. His eyebrows furrowed together as he studied the rest note. “I don’t get it.”

  “Whenever you think you’re going to forget the lyrics, remember to pause and take a moment to think,” I said. “And if you need some support, raise up your hand. Your audience knows your lyrics. They’re there to support you.”

  Before I could explain any further, we were interrupted by another voice.

  “Hey!” Jesse walked down the hallway, an unenthused look on his face. “You forget how to use a phone?”

  “Chill,” Zach said. “I’m coming now.”

  Jesse stopped short when he saw me. “Just . . . get to stage. We’re late, as usual.”

  “Guess I’ll see you later then
?” Zach asked me.

  Zach actually wanted to see me again. I wanted to scream. “Yeah, guess so.”

  He let Jesse pull him out to the stage, and I watched him go, the two of us grinning as he raced away.

  Jesse immediately began to question him, but since he wasn’t wearing a mic I couldn’t hear what they were saying. The nosy fangirl in me definitely needed some time to calm back down.

  But not before I told Jenica everything.

  “ . . . don’t understand why.”

  I tried to tune out Connor’s voice, tried to force myself back to sleep.

  “Keep your voice down,” Dad said. “Your mother is asleep, and I believe Katelyn is too.”

  So much for falling back asleep. I looked at the clock: three a.m.

  Maybe some cold water would help. My dad and Connor were both standing in the hotel suite kitchen as I ventured out of my room.

  “Tomorrow is my day off,” Connor said. “I don’t want to be stuck on the bus all day.” His arms were folded tightly across his chest, his jaw set. You could feel the tension in the room.

  “Can I get some water?” I asked. He was standing in front of the refrigerator, blocking the pathway.

  “Of course,” Connor said, taking a step back. “Anything for Katelyn.”

  Connor’s brusque attitude caught me off guard. “Um, thanks?”

  My own spine stiffened as I grabbed a bottle of water, the tension in the room seeping into my skin.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked.

  Dad shook his head. “Nothing that can’t be worked out.”

  “Please, enlighten me,” Connor said, bracing his hands on the counter. “Why are we leaving at seven in the morning?”

  “To head to San Francisco, I already explained this,” Dad said with a heavy sigh.

  What was supposed to be the catch here? The next tour stop was San Francisco, which was a ten-hour drive.

  “It’s my day off,” Connor said. “Remind me why we’re loading up that early.”

  I felt a knot in my stomach start to coil as I realized what he was getting at. “Is this about my game?”

  “I don’t get many days off, Katelyn,” Connor said, in a clipped tone. “It would be nice to relax outside of a tour bus for a day.”

  “We just started this tour, Connor. We’ve only been on the road for like two days,” I said.

  “I’m sure we can work something out,” my dad said. “To make everyone happy.”

  Now it was my jaw that was set. “Wait, are you serious right now, Connor? I gave up my entire summer to get on a tour bus. I gave up my team, my friends, my social life, everything. And you have the audacity to complain because Mom scheduled one game around your tour schedule?” My voice was rising, and as much as I tried to control it, my temper slipped away from me. “I don’t want to crash on a tour bus, either, Connor. I don’t want to be your summer groupie. But I don’t get a choice in all of this!”

  And then I laughed. Uncontrollably. My body felt like it was on fire, the heat of my anger taking control. My arms spread wide.

  “Welcome to the Connor Jackson Show, everyone! Where we’re all the background support to Connor’s success story.”

  “That’s not fair—” Dad started, but I cut him off.

  “When’s the last time you saw me play, Dad?”

  He didn’t respond, which led to my anger bubbling over into laughter once again. “And you, Connor? Because I can tell you the last time I saw you perform was a few hours ago. When’s the last time you took an interest in anything that I do?”

  Connor didn’t respond.

  I snatched the water bottle from the counter. “Please, stay here tomorrow. Enjoy the sights. Enjoy your day off. I wouldn’t want you to have to uproot your life for me, of course.”

  No response from either one of them. Not that I expected one.

  My body was tense and my muscles quivering as I went back to my room. Portland was officially a bust. And I couldn’t wait to get the hell out.

  SAN FRANCISCO, CA

  CHAPTER 7

  Due to my lack of sleep the night before, falling asleep on the tour bus had never been easier. I didn’t wake up until lunchtime, my body and mind feeling much more relaxed and at ease. Mom was sitting on the tiny couch, reading.

  “There’s coffee in the pot for you,” she said, without glancing up from her book.

  I poured myself a cup before taking a seat next to her. “How far out are we?”

  “A couple of hours. We’ll need to rush to get to the fields on time.” She flashed me a smile. “But it shouldn’t be an issue.”

  After last night’s fiasco, my dad had agreed to stay back with Connor and fly in for the show tomorrow. And my mom had hopped on the tour bus with me so we could make it in time for my game.

  Connor, as usual, had gotten his way.

  Silence lapsed between us as the drive stretched on. I pulled out my phone and flipped through my social media accounts, my follower count increasing with every show. My usual dad jokes and meme reviews seemed daunting to post with so much social media attention. I settled for a quick GIF to keep my account relevant.

  And then I took to scanning through Zach’s Twitter. He wasn’t one to use social media much, but I checked for any updates just in case.

  “He’s a cutie, isn’t he?”

  I glanced over my shoulder to see Mom standing over me. “What are you doing?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  I’d been caught red-handed, and I didn’t have a comeback for that. “Go read your book, Mom.”

  “I find this romance story to be much more intriguing.”

  My entire body felt warm, my discomfort growing. “I should’ve never gotten out of bed.”

  Mom continued to laugh. “I love you, my dear.”

  “Can’t say the feeling is mutual.”

  As my mom predicted, we made it to the Vipers game just in time.

  I was wearing my club team’s uniform, but I knew they’d give me one of theirs to use for the game this evening. The other girls on the team were already warming up on the field. They glanced at me as I walked up, but they never stopped their warm-up.

  “You must be Katelyn Jackson,” a woman said when I got to the bench. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you! I’m Coach Nicole.” She didn’t look any older than twenty-five, and she had an easygoing smile on her face.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking her hand.

  She handed me a team backpack. “Inside is a jersey, shorts, and socks.”

  “Thank you.”

  Another girl came jogging over to meet us. She gave me a once-over, her lips pursed as she studied me. “This is her?”

  “This is Katelyn Jackson,” Coach Nicole said, with a bright smile.

  “Go ahead and get dressed; game time is only forty-five minutes out.”

  I went over behind the team bench to do a quick change. On my club team I was number two, but on this team I’d been given number twenty-six. Luckily, I’d worn my Limitless Apparel sliders under my shorts, which made the changing process much quicker.

  Pulling on the white socks over my shin guards, I shoved my feet into my Limitless Apparel custom cleats, the duct tape still wrapped around the sole.

  “You’ve played this team before?” Coach Nicole asked, pointing to the Snakes.

  “My home team played them in a tournament a couple of weeks ago,” I redid my ponytail. “We beat them.”

  “Their star forward, Marci Adams, is fast.”

  “Like lightning,” I agreed, handing her bag back.

  “Keep it.”

  “Thanks.” I placed it down next to mine. “But I have her beat so long as I don’t have to go up against her repeatedly.”

  Coach Nicole nodded. My nerves were on edge as I joined in with warm-ups. I wasn’t sure how I’d measure up to these girls.

  After a few minutes I felt myself settling into the routine. No matter where the game was pla
yed, at the end of the day it was still soccer.

  And that’s the one thing I could wholeheartedly say I’m good at.

  “So, you’re Katelyn Jackson,” the same girl from earlier said to me.

  I nodded as I squirted some water into my mouth from my water bottle. “And you are?”

  “Wendy.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  I couldn’t tell if she was sizing me up or being friendly, so I kept my tone light, waiting to see where she was going to take the conversation.

  “What are you doing in town?” she asked.

  “My family and I are here with my brother for his work.”

  Dropping Connor’s name in conversation was something I hated doing, as the conversation would immediately take a sharp turn after.

  And as selfish as it seemed, I wanted these next few hours to be about me.

  “You’ve got pretty good ball control. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone do a lace trap as smoothly as you did out there.”

  She was sizing me up. “Thank you,” I said. “So are you, you have a good shot.”

  “I know. Thanks.”

  I admired her confidence.

  The refs cut off our conversation with a check-in. We patted our shin guards for the refs and showed them our cleats. They called us off one by one, checking our player cards. For me, they had to locate my guest player form.

  “Ten minutes before game time,” the ref said to Coach Nicole.

  “Let’s get captains!”

  “We got this side of the field,” one of the captains announced, coming back to the bench. “They got kickoff.”

  “Those are some nice cleats,” the goalie said to me, once I reached my position. “Even with the duct tape.”

  “Thanks,” I said, with a smile.

  “Here’s the heads-up,” Zelda said. “Jade doesn’t play defense, and if she doesn’t like the position she’ll purposely suck at it until Nicole pulls her. Angela’s good, but she has a problem with stabbing.

  Caroline’s going to be your rock. She’s got stopper down like the back of her hand.”

  “Goalie, you ready?” the ref called to Zelda.

  Zelda gave him a thumbs-up.

  The whistle blew, and I already knew the play. It was the same every time we went up against them. Their star forward was lightning fast, and they’d chip the ball out to her in hopes she’d outrun the defense and they’d start off the game with a quick score.