"Happy to be home?" Alex asks from across the tiny bus table between bites of his usual breakfast cereal.

"Definitely." I smile brightly as the bus rolls into the city I call home.

I really lucked out having an off day here, meaning I get to sleep in my own bed for the night. I didn't even bother booking myself a hotel room.

"Still going to let me use that kitchen of yours?" Alex asks, one corner of him mouth tugging up.

"Only if you promise to put it to good use."

"I can do that." He smiles.

"Do what?" Chris asks, emerging into the front lounge of the bus to refill his coffee cup.

"Oh, I'm going over to Joslyn's tonight," Alex casually informs Chris.

"Absolutely not."

"What?" Alex asks dumbfounded.

"You're not going out on a Friday night in such a busy city. This city is always packed on a Friday night and I'm not going to risk you being spotted and mobbed. Tell him, Joslyn," Chris calls me out. "Isn't it crazy out here on a Friday night?"

"A little bit," I awkwardly mumble as their eyes flash to me.

It's true, though. Friday nights are always the busiest, but that's mainly for Broadway and I wouldn't dare take Alex to the strip. On Friday nights you can hardly walk down Broadway because it is so packed with locals, tourists, and most of all drunks. I wouldn't want to put anyone through that madness and claustrophobia.

"See," Chris says knowingly. He's satisfied, thinking this conversation is over, but Alex keeps pushing.

"So? We're just going to her apartment and maybe a grocery store. It'll be fine."

"Still, I don't want to take any chances," Chris reiterates, seeming to get annoyed with Alex's persistence.

"Well that's too bad," Alex challenges, crossing his arms.

"Excuse me?" Chris narrows his eyes at him, face hardening.

"I'm going, Chris. I can't take being stuck in this bus and hotels anymore. I'm going to go crazy!" Alex admits. "So I'm going whether you like it or not," Alex says, fairly calm.

Chris glares at him and the two seem to have a stare down. "Fine," Chris spits out and Alex's body relaxes in victory. "On one condition, Milo has to come with you."

His body stiffens again. "What? No!" Alex argues, becoming defensive again.

"You go with Milo or you don't go at all," Chris says, voice stern. The two have another stare off over the ultimatum.

"Fine," Alex finally spits back.

Chris only nods his head once before going back to the back lounge of the bus. I don't miss the glare he quickly shoots me before leaving, making my blood run cold.

What was that for? Sure, we may be going to my place, but I didn't put up the fight to go or initiate the idea of going. That was all Alex. And I couldn't be rude and flat out tell Alex that he can't come over. But I guess it doesn't really matter. Deep down, I already know Chris doesn't like me and this is just another mark on his Why I Hate Joslyn list.

I don't get it. Alex is a twenty year old man, not an adolescence. Chris isn't even his parent. I know he's trying to look out for Alex, that's his job as his manager, but he can't keep him locked up like Rapunzel forever. Alex is fully capable of making his own decisions and doing what he wants. Granted, given his position, it's a little harder to go out like any other person, so maybe bringing along Milo isn't such a bad idea.

I look over at Alex and his mood has instantly turned sour despite his victory. I don't blame him, though. Again, sometimes Chris treats him like a five year old instead of a twenty year old.

"So, what are you thinking about making tonight?" I ask, trying to thin the tension in the air.

Alex lets out a gust of air from his lungs, pushing his cereal around in the bowl with his spoon. He lets the spoon fall in the bowl with a small clank, looking up at me, shrugging. "I don't know," he says, leaning back in the seat. "Do you like pasta?"

"Love it."

"Good, cause I make a mean chicken alfredo," he says, mood instantly brightening.

"We'll see about that," I tease.

Stepping onto the familiar welcome mat, I dig my key out of my back pocket and jiggle it into the door knob, twisting. Opening the door, I'm welcomed to warm air and the familiar scent of home, putting an instant smile on my face. I'm also met with tiny dusk partials flying around the air as soon as I step forward and open the curtains, the bright sun streaming in through the widow.

"Sorry." My smile instantly turns sheepish when Alex and Milo walk through my door. "Let me turn up the AC and tidy up a bit," I say, rushing to lower the thermostat and grab a duster.

When we leave for tour we typically turn up the thermostat a few degrees so our bill doesn't skyrocket with no one here. Then, naturally, with everyone gone for a few months, a very thin layer of dust collects on the furniture.

"Make yourselves at home." I gesture to the couch and Milo takes it upon himself to sit down, grabbing the remote.

"Need any help?" Alex politely asks.

"Nah, I'm good. This should only take a minute," I say, quickly ducking in and out of rooms to dust and make sure everything is in good condition.

I take a moment to soak in the feeling of being home. As much as I love being out on the road, home will always be that comforting place I want to come back to. I love this place. I love the little home me and the boys created for ourselves only a few short years ago.

I love the white walls that are contrasted by the dark wood floor and furniture. I love the big comfy beige couches that we spend way too much time on when we're here. I love the subtle décor and photos scattered around. I mean, I should. I'm the one who decorated this place because the boys sure as hell weren't going to do it, so I took it upon myself. I tried to make it feel as warm and welcoming as possible, something we'd all enjoy and feel at home in since we're out on the road most of the time.

The overall vibe of the apartment is rustic, we are in the south after all. But, living with all boys, I didn't decorate too girly or over the top with abstract paintings and knickknacks. It was modern, but simple. It just felt like home.

Although we all technically live in this apartment, only my dad, Joe, and I truly live here. Each apartment only has three bedrooms so the other boys have the apartment next to ours thats way less decorated. Aside from sleeping, they're practically in our apartment twenty-four-seven. If anything, they occasionally used the other apartment for band practice.

Speaking of the other apartment, I should probably pop over there to make sure everything's ok, seeing that nothing caught fire or a pipe didn't burst.

Walking into my kitchen, I see Alex already scoping it out, figuring out where everything is. I let him get acquainted and open up one of the drawers to get the spare key to the boy's apartment.

"Hey, I'm going to run next door really quick to check on the guy's apartment. I'll be back in a few," I tell him and he nods, grabbing a few pots and pans out of the cabinets.

I walk out my front door and to the left, opening the next door with my spare key. Just like my apartment, it's a little stuffy in here, but not so much that it'll hurt anything. Doing a walk through the way less decorated apartment, dusting here and there, everything seems to be good. Locking the door behind me, I walk back over to my apartment. Milo is still on my couch watching some sporting event, but Alex is no longer in my kitchen.

Furrowing my brows, I walk down the hallway where the bathroom and bedrooms are. Walking past the washer and dryer, I peek in the first door to my right, my room. There, sitting cross legged on my white rug, is Alex. My breath hitches in my throat momentarily, seeing that he has my cardboard box full of flowers in front of him. He already has some pulled out, setting on the floor.

My heart instantly swells, though, watching him take out another flower. Hes so careful and delicate with it, gently grasping the stem between his fingers to admire the rose. His other hand comes up to hold the picture attached to it with some ribbon. A smile etches on his face as he examines the picture and my hand writing on the back, making my heart swell even more.

"That one's my favorite," I whisper, folding my arms and leaning against the doorframe, smiling.

Alex jumps a bit, startled, an embarrassed smile forming on his face. "Yeah?" he asks, looking over his shoulder at me.

"Uh-huh." I push myself off the doorframe and sit next to him on the floor, smiling at the picture in his hand. The picture is from the last day of my brother's first tour. In the photo is my dad, Joe, Zach and I all flipping off the camera to show off our brand new tattoos. "That was right after we got them on the last day of tour in Jersey," I tell Alex, and he smiles.

"What about this one?" he asks, gently grabbing a flower that he already looked at and set on the floor.

I look at the photo of me wearing the cheapest tiara we could find, standing in front of Buckingham Palace, smiling while standing next to one of those guards that never moves. I can't help but laugh out loud at the memory, practically rolling back on the floor, Alex smiling at me amused.

"Zack made me do that," I explain after my laughter dies down, still giggling. "It's a long running joke that he calls me princess, so he forced me to find a tiara and take that picture." I laugh again, Alex laughing along with me. "He tried so hard that day to try to get one of those guards to crack, too," I say, shaking my head.

We spend the next two hours pulling out each flower, me filling him in on each picture and memory. It isn't until both of our stomachs growl that we realized it's past 7:00 p.m. and we haven't even gotten groceries yet.

Grabbing my car keys, Alex and Milo follow me out of the apartment and into my little black Camry. Alex sits in the passenger seat while Milo sits in the back.

Pulling up to the local grocery store, there's only a few cars in the lot. Hardly anyone ever does their shopping on a Friday night. They're all too busy going out to Broadway.

"Push me," Alex says, hopping into the back of a shopping cart like a five year old.

"Oh, I'll push you," I say, grabbing the cart.

I grab the handle and give it one hard shove, sending Alex flying down the aisle. He braces himself, screwing his eyes shut and grabbing the sides of the cart, waiting for the impact.

With a small crash into the end of the aisle, the cart finally stops and Alex slowly opens one eye first and then the other, looking around and at himself to make sure everything's ok.

I can't help but burst into a fit of laughter, doubling over and clutching my stomach. I swear even Milo's lip twitches up.

"You're mean," Alex grumbles, climbing out of the cart, and he starts pushing it around the store himself.

"It wouldn't be the first time you told me that." I smile, thinking about the first time I had to go to his room to wake him up.

"Then it must be true." He smirks.

After a half an hour of following Alex around like a lost puppy, watching him pick out numerous items, we're on our way back to my apartment.

"Hey," Alex says a little hesitantly. "Maybe, could we drive down Broadway? I just want to see what the big deal is."

"Sure." Even though I would never go out to Broadway on a Friday night, it's pretty fun to drive by and see all the people.

Taking a few turns, I finally see all the lights and hear the loud rumble of people and music. As expected, Broadway is packed. The traffic on the street is almost dead stop and the people are all held back by barricades to stay on the sidewalks.

Broadway always amazes me, from the people to the music. No matter where you stand, you can hear at least five different bands playing at the same time. Almost every place on Broadway hosts a live band, so when I say the boys had to compete to be heard down here, I mean it.

"If you look closely, maybe you can spot Shay puking her guts out." I snicker. Shay said she was going to meet some old friends tonight and, I quote, party it up.

"I don't see her." Alex chuckles. "But I definitely see that guy." He scrunches up his face in disgust, pointing to a guy that has his head buried in a trashcan, no doubt throwing his guts up while his friend can hardly stand straight next to him.

"Yep. Welcome to a Friday night on Broadway."

"As fun as that looks," Alex says sarcastically, pointing back to the guy, "I really would like to explore Broadway one day."

"You should." I smile. "It's a pretty fun time when you come on a week night where it's less crowded."

Alex just smiles and nods, looking back and forth out the window as we slowly drive down the rest of the strip.

Setting the groceries on my kitchen counter, Milo goes back to my couch to watch TV while Alex gets ready to cook. I unpack everything while he grabs the utensils he'll need.

"Umm," Alex says behind me.

I turn around to see him holding up an apron that has the body of a very toned man with a strong chest and chiseled six pack abs printed on it.

"Oh God," I whine, hiding my face in embarrassment, causing him to laugh. "Joe and Zack insisted on buying that."

"I guess it'll have to do." Alex laughs, tying the apron around his waist. In reality, the image isn't that far off from his real naked torso...

He gets to work, washing his hands and getting all of the ingredients prepared. As he works, I hoist myself up onto the kitchen island to sit and watch him. I admire the way he seems so focused and seems to do everything with such precision. I also can't help but appreciate the way his back muscles move and flex through his shirt as he chops up some chicken, throwing it into a pan.

Never in a million years would I have believed you if you said that the Alex Walker would be in my kitchen cooking me dinner. Even on the first day of working for him, I didn't expect him to talk to me. Funny how things work out.

Alex turns around to face me, pulling me from my thoughts. He has a piece of cooked chicken on a fork with some sauce, lightly blowing on it to cool it off. With his free hand cupped under the fork, carful to not let any sauce drip onto my floor, he walks over to me and holds the fork up to my mouth. "Try this," he says.

I take the bite and chew, my eyes almost rolling to the back my head.

"Holy crap!" I say, covering my mouth with my hand to make sure no food flies out. "That is amazing!"

"Really? You like it?" He grins.

"Like it? That's probably one of the best things I ever tasted," I say honestly. The chicken is cooked and seasoned perfectly and the sauce is light and creamy.

"So, do you believe that I can cook now?"

"I guess so," I tease. "You know, if this whole popstar thing doesn't work out for you you can always come and be my own personal chef."

"I'll keep that noted," he says, tapping his temple before turning around to finish cooking.

Dinner was fantastic. Alex can definitely cook. Even Milo had two servings of Alex's chicken alfredo, silently refilling his plate as he walked from my couch to the kitchen, then back to my couch. During dinner, Milo ate and watched his sports game from my living room while Alex and I ate and talked at the kitchen island.

"Alright," Milo announces, standing from my couch, the game over. "We should go, Alex."

I look over to Alex who is drying the last dish I just handed him after washing it. His face instantly falls and he looks at the clock. It's almost midnight.

Grabbing my keys, we pile into my car once more and go to their hotel.

"Night," I say out of my open window when they get out of my car.

"Night," Alex says, leaning down to rest his forearms on the door, slightly sticking his head in my widow. "Check your phone," he whispers before backing away and following Milo into the hotel.

I furrow my brows, pulling my phone from my cup holder. There's nothing I can see.

Shrugging off his words, I put the car into drive and start to make my way home.

At a red light, my phone dings and I quickly glance down at the screen.

Pick me up in the back of the hotel in 15 minutes.