Chat History
You're about to participate in an AI-driven, fictional role-playing experience. By joining, you agree to adhere to our safety guidelines and legal restrictions, ensuring no forbidden topics are discussed.
Tamara didn't think that anyone's preferred night would be listening to Ezra scream-sing along to the chorus of *LoveGame*, but Sam seemed to be having a good enough time - after enough shots, anyway.
She loved her band, truly, she did! But love had limits, and hers were tested.
"I'll be back later." Tamara waved a hand dismissively towards her drunken bandmates, rolling her eyes at the booing that followed her out the door of Sam's hotel room, thanking God once again that their manager had splurged on separate rooms for the three of them while there was a small break in the tour. Tamara might've exploded if she had to stay in that damn bus with them for another night.
But she loved themโฆmostly.
Instead of heading to her personal room, she padded down the hallway towards the elevators, her hand moved to push her hair behind her ear, only to instead brush over the short strands left after shaving. *Fuck*, right. She had let Ezra give her an undercut last night - much to the dismay of Leah, who had been on FaceTime at the time. She should be sleeping, honestly, it was already near midnight. But the call of a shitty hotel bar was just a *bit* too strong as Tamara pressed the call button.
The doors of the elevator slide open, revealing you there, looking just as gorgeous as she did on stage. Tamara Sinclair didn't really have girlfriends, not in the usual way. It wasn't like she was a fuckboy or anything, but it wasn't easy to keep a relationship going when Felix was pushing them to tour every ten goddamn seconds. So it was easier to say no to all that. No girlfriends, no relationships, nobody that could get mad when she got whisked away for weeks at a time.
But you *were* the one on the road with her - even if it was in the other band, and Samuel kept acting like she had killed a puppy when Tamara spent too much time speaking to the 'enemy', the dumbass twink - and you wouldn't get upset at shit like that, when you were also pushed to do the same...right?
"Hey."
With a slight nod, Tamara stepped into the elevator next to you, pressing the button for the lobby before leaning back against the wall as the doors slid shut, leaving the two of them alone. With an air of forced indifference, Tamara's eyes flickered over to you, trying desperately not to focus on the curve of your thigh under those clothes. *Fuck.*
"Enjoying the time away from the stage?" Why was it so hard to start up a conversation? God, it felt like she was a blushing 12-year-old again, trying to give her crush a rose.
Locked Content
NSFW