The Bird and The Bee

Chapter Three

Lovina woke up bright and early the next morning, after she'd kicked a canister of nuts out of the bed. Having had an excellent sleep, she felt like getting up, in theory, but had to force herself out of bed in the end, swinging her feet onto the peanuts from the night before.

Ew.

She yawned and drew back the curtain to find Antonio half-curled, half-sprawled on the little sofa out front; using a cushion as a pillow, still fully clothed and seeming like he'd fall at the next sharp turn, as the coach rumbled on to France. Lovina sat across from him, remembering her fight with Gilbert and being told she deserved better. She wasn't taking relationship advice from a person who slept with a coat on...

He had literally. Gotten no sleep. At all. Antonio could run on a few hours, yes, but with all the rattling and shaking of the bus, which was far worse than not anything he had ever imagined to sleep with, he didn't even get a wink. He watched a French sunrise and that was it. What woke him up from his daze was Lovina, from the sound of her steps, ripping back a curtain and sitting across from him.

Shit. He'd have to sleep in the green room or get some coffee, because this was terrible.

"Morning," she greeted him almost pleasantly, stifling another yawn and watching the French countryside rumble past the window behind him. "Sleep well?"

He opened his eyes to her, feeling them strain and sting. "Did you?" He asked instead, avoiding the subject of his slumber entirely.

She hummed as she tucked her feet up beneath her in on the chair, shrugging contently and giving him a slightly pitying look at how croaky his voice was. "Yeah, I did."

Antonio closed his eyes again, nodding. "That's good..." He yawned, rolling back over, shoving his hood up to block out the sunrise.

She watched him with a twinge of guilt, picking at a nail and putting it to her mouth. "Bed's free if you want another hour."

"Maybe if you chuck peanuts at me I'll wake up—" He stopped himself. "Actually don't, I'm really allergic to them. If there are some almonds in there…"

"If you want to wake up," she shrugged, standing to go to a little fridge tucked in the corner and taking out two bottles of water, taking one over to him. "You don't want to sleep?" She asked, unscrewing her bottle.

"Too bumpy," He grumbled, taking the water bottle and pressing it to his forehead. "I'll sleep in the green room later after I help unpack..."

"You're not going out today?" She tutted, swatting his feet up so she could sit beside him. "We don't have to be at the venue until six and we'll get there in an hour or so."

"You'll be in your room doing your make-up for the remaining four hours and throwing phones at the doors, and up until that point I don't have anyone to talk to. And all I do is warm up my fingers in that time any way..." He rambled on, sighing when he had to scoot up further in his spot on the couch. She needed to pick a spot.

She looked at him, offended. "Stop complaining so much, it's weird. Lighten up," she instructed, taking a sip.

Antonio shed his coat, since it was getting very hot; the heater must've finally kicked on. "Sorry," He apologized, using it as a blanket instead.

"Where are you from, anyway?" She asked, curling her feet up on the sofa to make use of the new blanket situation, using what little could cover her toes.

That took him longer than it should have to register. "Spain," He answered blandly, keeping the water bottle pressed to his forehead. "Valencia, Spain."

She nodded and took a long sip, having nothing else to say to him. "Valencia oranges," she said, in an attempt to save the conversation.

He laughed a bit, nodding. "It always smelled like oranges where I grew up." He recalled, nodding. "Yeah, and we'd have oranges with every meal, somehow."

"We smelled like tomatoes, where I'm from," she told him, glancing over. "I wanted to spend all my time in the field and our grandpa made us learn an instrument," she told him, with just a hint of bitterness to her tone.

Hm. "My mom made me sing when all I wanted to do was play the guitar," Antonio offered, finding the shaking and the bumping of the bus less of concern now that he had someone to talk to.

"You're a good singer," she told him, before she pulled a face and shrugged. "Well, you know, technically..."

He rolled his eyes behind his eyelids, smirking. "Thanks, bird."

She gave his foot a soft slap. "Quit calling me that."

"Why not? It suits you." He whined, nudging her with his toes.

"No, it doesn't... and you can't just give nicknames to random women," she scolded him, giving his toe a flick to keep him away.

"But you're not a random woman, you're a friend." He defended himself, flinching back into a ball once she had set off his mental alarm system.

She scoffed at him, closing her eyes and setting her head back. "Are you always so quick to make friends?"

He shook his head. "No, no, not really," Antonio mumbled. "You're just the first one to talk back."

Lovina sat up and watched him curl into the couch, unable to believe he wasn't the kind to leave a lasting impression on everyone he met. She shrugged, chewing the same nail from earlier. "You too,"

Antonio peeked an eye out to her, the other one squinted shut. "Oh," He blurted. "That's nice."

Yes, Lovina, it's great you're so alone...

She sniffed, immediately feeling embarrassed. "I have people I talk to, but... you know..."

"They can't offer you much conversation." He mumbled, closing his eyes again so she didn't feel so damned awkward all the time. Lovina had a habit of doing such things.

"How would you know?" She argued back, crossing her arms. "We get on fine, me and..." Her boyfriend and her brother. God, she was lame. "My friends,"

He didn't mean to be rude but he seriously doubted Lovina had a best friend aside from her domestic abusing boyfriend, as the tabloids might say. "Anything you say,"

"Shut up!" She spat defensively, getting flustered and putting her feet down so no part of her was at any risk of touching him.

Shut up, just play the guitar, you're an idiot—

"How close are we?" He asked, not even bothering with reading the signs. "Hot or cold?"

Lovina glared at him, even annoyed at how he could lay there with his eyes closed while she was irritated and flustered. "What do you mean, 'hot or cold'?"

"You know, like the little kid's game. Hot, hot, scalding, we're on fire?" Antonio asked, nudging her with his toes.

Good lord, did she even have childhood?

She wriggled away from his toe and looked forward indignantly, scowling. "We are not hot."

Damn, he might as well just start brewing a packet of instant coffee from his bag, with the way Lovina was talking to him. He sat up his back all sorts of aching, and unzipped his bag. "Oh, fine,"

"'Oh, fine' what?" She asked, looking over at him. "What did you want me to say? We work together."

"Might as well give up on sleeping until I can buy some cold medicine to knock me out," He shrugged, taking off his coat-blanket and tearing open the pathetic packet of coffee.

"Don't ignore me," She huffed, staring at him now, all straight-backed and glaring.

For a little songbird, she was very needy. He could understand why her and her slacker boyfriend got into so many fights.

"Calm your feathers down, bird; I'm still here, listening to you." He mumbled, setting the cold bus water on the coffee pot and waiting for it to heat up.

Lovina huffed again and tutted, settling back on the sofa and watching him, feeling embarrassed at being so childish. She paused for a moment and handed over her bottle, in case he needed more water. "Make me one too?"

"Sure, sure," He took her water and filled it up into the pot, almost to the brim, but hey, he could stay here for a while as he searched for an extra packet in his bag. "You can have this mocha one, I'm not to keen on mochas..."

"You know there's coffee in the cupboard over the fridge?" She asked him, and he looked at his mocha with a bemused expression. Oh. "But mocha's fine." She cleared her throat and wrapped her arms around herself, starting to feel the chill from not being wrapped up in bed.

Antonio tossed her his coat, spotting that sign as clear as day. "I can't save you if you have dead time today, so make sure you've got a song in mind." He didn't know how to sing in French either. "A few, just in case,"

She hummed and didn't take it, only using the end to cover her freezing toes. She wasn't sure whether to be offended or not, so she went quiet while the water heated. "Thank you for that," she almost whispered, feeling she should have said so earlier.

He nodded back. A little slow to the magic words, he was almost spoiling her. "Would you like some peanuts with your coffee? I hear that's a good breakfast other than..." Antonio opened the fridge. "Fruit cups and protein shakes."

She snorted, shaking her head at him. "No, I would not like any more peanuts, thank you very much..."

"Good source of..." He didn't even what peanuts were good for. Choking him and making him paralyzed for a good while, that was it. "Lethal abilities…"

"Why were you eating nuts if you're allergic to them?" She asked, taking the coat and pulling it over her lap.

"Just peanuts," He sighed, feeling the warmth from the burner finally kick on. "I get all still and I can't move, and I choke." He shrugged. "Depends on how many I eat."

"Is that why you threw them all into my bed?" She went on; raising an eyebrow at him and pulling her long hair back off her face.

He smiled, shaking his head, remembering how angry she had gotten. "Yes and no,"

She frowned, but it wasn't utterly convincing. "Yes or no?"

"Yes, because if they're around me for too long I start getting all..." Antonio pulled a face to show things got risky around peanuts. "And no, because I didn't know that was your bed. You always get up after me, and I always go to bed early."

The bus rumbled on, going through towns before they'd hit another small stretch of countryside. She sank further into the seat, tapping her fingers on her knees, pulled up to her chest beneath the coat. "You could just stop eating nuts," she suggested, looking over at Antonio.

"But y'see, tomatoes are my favorite snack, but they always spoil and they're not exactly palatable for road trips." He mumbled, tugging a mug from the cabinet underneath the sink and grabbing his own canister for himself. "Not the best gourmet coffee, but it's enough." Decaf mocha and wakening black Columbian. Nice.

She stretched forward and took the mug, settling back and getting comfortable and cozy. "I could ask for tomatoes in my dressing room," she said, putting her nose up, joking. She took a sip of the mocha and pulled a face, this time serious. "And better coffee..."

"And a new guitarist," He nearly spat, glaring at her. Was she ever thankful? He even made her coffee, saved her from dead time; let her talk his ear off when he was running on less than an hour of sleep…

She looked up and caught the end of his glare. Which was probably justified, but she was offended anyway. "It's not a reflection on how well you make coffee; it's just shitty coffee..."

Oh, all right, she could have just said that—

"I picked it up from some birthday baskets, since my birthday is close to Valentine's Day." He sipped his own shitty ass coffee, leaning back on the other side of the bus's couch.

"Wow," she breathed, blowing on the top of her coffee and bracing herself for another sip. "Your friends put a lot of thought into your gifts, huh?"

What friends? The closest one he had lived in this smelly country. "Yeah. Chocolate heart shaped cakes and love baskets. I'm feeling the affection right now." He joked, rolling his eyes.

"Your girlfriend must hate that," she chanced, although she seriously doubted the kind of man who ate food he was allergic to, slept fully clothed, and called other women 'divine' kept one for long. "You have your birthday close to Valentine's Day."

He almost cackled, that was so funny.

"Oh, you're hilarious, bird." He probably didn't look too charming. "How long do you keep your boyfriends? Months? Shame, you are a beautiful woman." He tsked at her, looking down to his crinkled clothes and the curls in front of him, larger and more matted and knotted than usual. "I'm calling the first shower."

She stood up and put her mug down on the ledge, the coat falling to the floor. She was too immediately hurt, or surprised, or offended, she wasn't sure to glare at him.

"Stop thinking you know anything about him. Or me." Her voice was slightly shaken at how flippant he was, how easily he could write off one of the only people she really knew at all. "None of this is your problem."

"You're obviously not happy together. He shouldn't make you cry." He merely said, flicking off the burner and pouring the remaining water into his chalky black coffee. "But sure, it's not my problem, it's yours. No big deal,"

God, he was lucky her coffee was too hot to throw in his face.

"I can make my own decisions, don't try to influence me and then act like you're the perfect guy."

Well, she was obviously stuck on being blown off and forgotten for a cheap pint. "Fine. Fine." He nodded, settling back. "If you were my girlfriend I'd remind you every day that you're worth more than you think. But, that's just me."

She opened her mouth to argue again, but just stared at him, shaking her head slowly as he looked back, honest and kind. "You..." After a second to compose herself, she frowned and went to the curtain. "I'm showering first."

"Have fun." Of course, the idiot he was waited until he was getting caffeine from a rather shitty cup of coffee until she left to leave him alone for who knows how long. Well, the showers in France were forbidden to put up shower curtains, so he'd be out in the open. He prayed they had lockable doors, at least.

Lovina stopped by her bed to rifle through her bag to get her phone. None of the usual morning-after texts. Morning-after's meant after fights in her relationship, and not sex, although they had been known to share the same night. Sighing, she went to the suitcase tucked at the end of the bunks and took her towel and change of clothes, giving the curtain another glare before stepping into the bathroom. She would have let herself consider Antonio's words if she wasn't so sure she weren't in need of any counseling.

She was a grown woman.

A grown woman with a blinded sense of what love was all about. He hadn't seen anything so saddening in his life. Antonio took his final sips, feeling his eyes lighten a little and his voice regain a bit of its body. He'd die if he sung back up for her today, so he had to be sure she was fine... Antonio looked up once Lovina was out, now out of her green striped cotton pajamas and into her clothes for lazing about for five hours. He didn't stare too much, for she had used up all the hot water on the bus from the looks of her skin.

"Shower's free," she told him bluntly, catching his eye and going back to tinker with her phone, just to look busy.

He shook his head. He was never showering on the bus, ever. "I don't feel up to..." He looked up from his iPhone. "... um, being pelted with ice,"

"I was barely in there for ten minutes," she answered cuttingly, narrowing her eyes at him. "Don't be so picky."

"With the state I'm in," He scoffed, faking a cough at her. "Oh, I don't know, maybe I should just sleep in my bed all day."

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Whatever gets you clean and ready for tonight, I don't care."

"Maybe the sound tech could fill in for me..." He whined, slipping his phone back into his duffle bag. "Or maybe you could just record me..."

"Do not start," she warned him. "You've been here a week, get your ass on stage on time and don't complain about it."

Antonio couldn't help but laugh as he rolled over, slopping himself over the couch while a few of the other members started filing in and out, one taking the time to sit on Antonio's back and lean back for a spell.

She huffed and hopped onto her bunk to sit for the rest of the journey away from him. He always found exactly the way to- no, not ruffle her feathers. Lovina wanted to slap herself for even thinking it.

Finally, once the man had gotten off his back— who he assumed to be the bass player with the wheat-blond hair and obnoxious attitude named Adam, they had settled and parked, and everyone was shuffling out from the back to grab a good four cases and carry them in like mules.

Lovina never helped, he noticed. She supervised.

Lovina stayed sat in her bunk while the rest of the band and crew went outside and round to the back, waiting until she was sure she was out of earshot of them to dial and press the phone to her ear, playing with the hem of her shirt nervously. She waited a minute or two, about to give up when the ring was cut short and someone answered— A female someone, she realized, feeling her heart stop in her chest.

Antonio rubbed his back and threw on his coat again, now already done with his first load since he was an overachiever of sorts when it came to lifting.

He hadn't seen Lovina at all, but by her tone, she wasn't going to be friendly with him today. Moreover, he was okay with that. Maybe it was her time of the month, as his mother would have said. He set down his guitar case next to a sofa in the back of the green room and kicked his feet up, glad to have a stable ground underneath him...

"Who is this?" She asked quietly, getting some apologetic German in return. Closing her eyes, Lovina shook her head and sat back against the pillow, trying to keep her tone steady and remember as best she could, she asked where Gilbert was, very brokenly.

She was slowly informed he was still asleep, and she gave a short gasp, her hand starting to shake.

"Wer sind Sie?" She asked again, already humiliated at how little German she actually knew.

There was a confused pause at the other end of the call.

"Ich bin seine Freundin. (1)"

. 0 .

1) - I'm his girlfriend.