“What?”
“Washboard. Trust me,” he said, taking a fry off my plate and dipping it in the ketchup. “It’ll sound great. You can have one of mine,” he added when I raised my eyebrows. “I’ve been playing around with some midis, mixing them with the tracks, and I’m telling you—at least for thebeginningof the song—we need a washboard.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“The only concern I have is how that’ll translate to the stage. I mean, do we prerecord that shit or do you actually play that section during the tour?”
As much as I hated to admit it, I was excited to startplaying new music—and learning a new instrument wasn’t the scary venture it had been in high school. And if Icouldn’tfigure it out, then we’d go down the prerecorded path Zack had already suggested. “There’s one way to find out.”
“Yeah?” he asked as the waitress brought his food—and didn’t say a word, knowing we were deep in a conversation.
“Yeah. We’ll have to play the songs together a lot to get a feel for them before we get in the studio—and I’ll either learn it well or I won’t.”
“Good point,” he said before picking up one half of the triangle the cook had cut his sandwich into.
Inspired, I picked up mine too, all but moaning as the food hit my mouth. It was far better than the simple sandwiches I made for myself at home. The diner used Texas toast slathered in butter and melted shredded cheddar in between slices of American cheese with minced onion. As a kid, I’d hated it.
Maybe Iwashungry after all. Or maybe it was the effect Zack had on me.
“So why didn’t you want all of us to hear this? Is it just because I have to learn something new?”
Zack put down his sandwich and pulled a napkin out of the dispenser, wiping his fingers off. “I just wanted to make conversation and let you know what to expect, but Ididhave an ulterior motive.”
Of course, he did. My heart started thumping in my chest as it dreamed of the future. Was Zack going to tell me how sorry he was about cheating on me and swear to never do it again? Had he come to his senses now that I hadn’t been in his bed for a while?
Swallowing, I also grabbed a napkin, no longer caring about my food. “Okay, no sense putting it off.”
His mouth kind of screwed up, almost as if he was tryingnot to smile—but that wasn’t it. I wasn’t sure what the expression on his face signified, but somehow my gut knew.
I wasn’t going to like what he was about to say.
“You and Braden—you still a thing?”
The way he said it downplayed way too much. “A thing?” Immediately, I had to fight the urge to throw the rest of my hot cocoa on him. No matter how he felt about me, he obviously didn’t care about Braden either.
But I could try to keep my wits about me. “If bya thingyou mean are we dating, then the answer isyes.”
My eyes remained intent on him, looking for any sort of sign that it mattered to him…that it hurt him somehow.
Instead, he picked up his sandwich again. “Okay. Well, you know my rules.”
“Your rules?”
“Yeah—just be careful.”
Oh…maybe hedidcare on some level. He didn’t want me to get hurt.
But, no, that wasn’t it at all. After beginning the meal with my Old Friend Zack, Rock Star Zack had reappeared, and he was in full heavy metal regalia. My mouth was screwed up, one eyebrow raised as I waited for him to continue.
“Remember my rules when you and me started dating?” The way he said the last word was loaded, full of contempt—and it made me want to spit out at him that we’d never dated.
We’d onlyfucked. That was the cruel, harsh reality of it. And his words now simply underscored it.
But he continued, not sensing—or just ignoring—my visceral reaction. “I don’t give a shit what you and Braden do, as long as you don’t fuck up anything in the band. Keep that line drawn and everything will be fine.”
I felt like I was going to have to swallow my tongue to stop myself from screaming at him.He—Zack—was the fuckingproblem. He was the reason why shit didn’t work. It wasn’t everyone else.
It was him.
