That shit was for bitches and dudes with their nuts tied up in a bow. Definitely not for me.

So what if Vivian hadn’t answered when I called. I didn’t need to talk to her every single night, for Christ’s sake.

So what if she never sent a text after the few dozen I had sent her. If that’s the game she wanted to play, then so be it. I shouldn’t have to explain myself to her.

Even though I knew she had the total wrong idea about the girl she heard when we last spoke.

I hadn’t been given a chance to explain that the girl had been with Mitch and the two of them had passed out drunk on the floor of my hotel room. I hadn’t been able to tell Vivian that I had gone into the bathroom for privacy so I could call her because I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Even though I wouldn’t have dared admit that, it was the truth.

She had jumped to the obvious conclusion. Not that I blamed her. But it still irritated me that she had chewed me a new ass**le when for once, I hadn’t done anything wrong. The need to defend myself made me cranky.

I had wanted to tell her about the conference call with the label. They were sinking some serious money into promoting us. There was going to be a major photo shoot and press release for our upcoming album.

I really wanted to talk about it to someone. No, I wanted to talk about it with Vivian. But it was obvious she was going to play the pissed off card for a while longer.

Before I could think twice about it, I tapped out a quick message and hit send. Then I waited for a few minutes. Not because I was waiting to see if I’d get a response.

Hell no!

And that wasn’t disappointment that I felt when my phone stayed silent. That was just hunger. Because I hadn’t eaten anything last night. That had to explain the aching in my gut. That was the only thing that made any sense.

I swung my legs over the side of my cramped bunk and slid out to the floor. Damn, it was freezing! I reached back in behind the curtain and felt around for my shirt. I hurriedly put it on and stumbled my way back to the bathroom so I could take a leak.

I pushed open the folding door that led to the toilet and instantly started gagging. Living on a bus with eight other dudes was disgusting. Even for my sorry bachelor ass. I wasn’t a clean freak by any means, but at least I tried to hit the bowl when I was taking a piss.

Maysie had claimed the tiny bathroom at the back of the bus, which was smart on her part. Guys were freaking barbarians.

I held my breath as I whipped out my junk and took the quickest pee on record. I thought about taking a shower, but didn’t think I could stomach the smell for that long.

God, I missed having my own space.

It was easy to get sick of being on the road. It sucked cramming into a bunk the size of a dog’s ass**le in order to sleep. And there was always some dipshit who decided to be a dick and eat all of your Ding Dongs.

Even though I was getting tired of tripping over empty beer cans and dirty boxer shorts, it was still pretty amazing.

Somehow, someway, Generation Rejects was on an actual, totally legit tour. We were living it up on an actual tour bus, sharing a space with one of the coolest bands out there.

This was actually my life.

It was still pretty hard to believe.

Particularly for a former jock who had been expected to go into the military in order to make his dad happy.

I hadn’t been Generation Reject’s first singer. Garrett, Mitch and I had been friends in high school but I used to laugh at their lame attempts at music. I was too busy playing basketball and screwing my way through the cheerleading squad.

Garrett had been the guy you went to if you needed to buy drugs. Mitch was the slow kid that sat in the back of the classroom and made stupid comments that had the rest of the class laughing at him more than with him. And even though I was their friend, I hadn’t taken them too seriously.

No one had.

After we graduated, none of us had gone on to college. Big shocker. Garrett’s parents had just died and Mitch certainly didn’t have the grades to do much more than pick up garbage and shovel horseshit at a local farm.

I was by no means an idiot. I had been offered a couple of scholarships to play ball. But I hadn’t wanted the responsibility. I hadn’t wanted the pressure. I was sick of school. I was sick of doing what my parents wanted me to do. I was ready to go my own way.

My dad was former military and he had told me when I turned eighteen that I had the choice of going into the Navy like he had done or I could get the f**k out.

I had gotten the f**k out.

And I hadn’t talked to my old man since.

Not that I hadn’t tried. They lived ten minutes away from my apartment in Bakersville. Hell, I ran into my mom in the grocery store from time to time. And I learned pretty damn quickly that I was persona non grata in my own family.

I had finally stood up to my father and refused to let him tell me what I was going to do with my life. As a consequence for growing some fuzz on my balls I had been forced out of the house I had grown up in. It had sucked at the time but I was glad I had done it.

But that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to be ignored by my mother when I called her name when I saw her on the street. Or to hear the click of a disconnected call when I tried to phone to wish my father a Merry Christmas.

“You’re a f**king loser, Cole. You’ll never be anything, never do anything. You’re a f**king waste of skin.” My dad’s final words to me still buzzed around in my head all these years later.

And I was still trying to prove him wrong.

And maybe this time, I would.