Oliver:Please wash your hands.
I move to the sofa and sit down, impatiently drumming my fingers on my leg. To distract myself, I open Instagram and scroll. It proves futile when I stumble upon a story from April.
Unable to resist, I click on it.
It’s a mirror selfie of April in her tiny skirt, a glass of wine in hand. Her body looks incredible, toned with curves in all the right places.
God, she’s sexy.
I tap to the next story.
It’s a video of April, Gemma, and Anna clinking shot glasses filled with amber liquid. They cheers, thenfuck, April’s tongue darts out to lick a line of salt off the back of her hand, before throwing back the shot and sucking on a wedge of lime.
I swipe to the next story, which is a selfie of the three of them, grins spread across their faces.
Catching myself smiling at the image, I quickly exit Instagram and toss my phone onto the coffee table. Leaning back, I nestle into the sofa cushions and close my eyes.
I shouldn’t be thinking about my brother’s ex like this.
I never want anyone.
But there’s something about April. Yes, she’s attractive; that much is obvious. But it’s her laughter, her smile, her innocence, the way she lights up a room—she’s captivating.
I unwillingly revisit the way her face fell when she saw Lucas. We had finished our set, and I was grabbing water from the end of the bar when I saw her notice him. And he did nothing. He acted like he hadn’t seen her at all. That’s his superpower, acting as if nothing affects him. Whether he actually feels anything is another question. He’s always been too much of a coward to face his emotions. It’s easier for him to drop out and detach completely.
She deserves so much more than indifference.
I shake my head, trying to clear the thoughts.
I can’t let myself go down this road—the one that leads toher.
If we land this gig with Bound to Oblivion, I’ll be on the road for seven months. Even if somethingdidhappen between us, would it survive the distance? Could I really ask someone to waitthat long, just to see if it might work? The thought feels selfish, and I hate myself for considering it.
With a sigh, I pick up my guitar. As I pluck the strings, a familiar sense of calm washes over me.
I’m lost in the music when the buzzer rings. I gently place my guitar back on its stand and head to the door, swinging it open to find Tom, Will, and Oliver standing at the threshold. I’m immediately drawn to Will’s stupid amused expression. As Oliver passes, he gives my shoulder a comforting pat and I clap him on the back. We all make for the living room and settle into the sofas.
“So, did you write back?” Tom asks, leaning forward and rubbing his hands over his thighs in anticipation.
“Not yet,” I reply, pulling my guitar pick from my pocket. I absently nibble the edge while my knee bounces as I consider my response.
“You did the right thing by waiting for us,” Tom says, nodding like a moron.
“Can I see the message?” Oliver asks, and I lift my chin. He grabs my phone from the coffee table. I watch him as he swipes to unlock the screen and taps into my messages, reading April’s text out loud.
“‘I’m really sorry about last night. I apologise if I made you feel uncomfortable. I wasn’t myself. But I appreciate you seeing me home, thank you.’” His brows press together in confusion. “James?” he questions, looking at me suspiciously.
“Mmmph,” I mumble around the guitar pick.
“Did youonlytake April home last night?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow.
I slip the pick back into my pocket and blow out a breath, opting to chew the inside of my cheek instead.
“Something fucking happened!” Will exclaims, jumping to his feet.
“Sit down, you muppet,” Oliver says, pulling Will back down to his seat.
I look over at Tom, staring back at me with a smug look on his face.
