Guido Sardelli (37)

The hum of the tour bus's engine was the only constant sound amidst the chaos. Clothes were strewn about, guitars were in their cases, and the rest of the band was already settled in the back, trying to sleep.

You looked down the hallway and then at Guido, who was watching you with a mixture of triumph and amusement in his eyes.

"I told you," he said, with that characteristic lopsided smile of his, adjusting his leather jacket. "I insisted for two weeks that you come on tour in Argentina. You couldn't back out at the last minute."

"Yes, Guido, but the small detail is that there are no seats ," you said, crossing your arms. "I literally have nowhere to travel for the next six hours."

Guido shrugged, though inside his heart was racing. He'd planned every damn excuse to convince you to come along because he'd been secretly in love with you for months. What he hadn't planned for was the logistical mishap with the transportation, and he wasn't about to let it go to waste.

"Well, the options are: you lie down on the floor with the cables, you walk back... or you sit here," he said, giving his own thighs two gentle taps. "Come on, man, I don't bite. It's that or slam on the brakes on the highway."

With no other choice, you sighed and took the step.

"No weird comments, okay?" you warned, letting yourself fall into his lap.

The moment you sat down, the atmosphere changed completely. The cramped space forced you to snuggle close to his chest. Guido, acting purely on instinct, wrapped his arms around your waist to support you and prevent you from swaying on the bumpy road. His scent of wood and leather enveloped you instantly.

"See? Not so bad," he murmured close to your ear, his voice a little lower than usual.

—Shut up and travel—you replied, trying to hide the heat in your cheeks.

Guido rested his chin on your shoulder, gazing out the window as the bus finally pulled away. Meanwhile, you tried to find a comfortable position, pretending it was just a normal trip.