The opening chords of Journey followed him into the back, past the kitchen, to the big black door at the end of the hall. He shut it behind him, even though they weren’t supposed to do that for safety reasons, and sank to the floor. So many different things were surging through him that Trey didn’t know what to think, feel, or do.
Beautiful, magical, too-perfect Dominic had lied to his face, fucked him hard, and then probably laughed all the way back to his hotel.
But that wasn’t his Dominic. That wasn’t the sweet guy so concerned about it being Trey’s first time. That wasn’t the guy who’d been so totally alive while playing along to Trey’s keys.
Maybe Dominic had no idea who Trey was at the start, but the instant he’d mentioned Fading Daze—wait. Dominic had gotten distant. Trey had been sure they were going to have sex, but Dominic had suggested pizza. He’d gotten shy. Trey had had to initiate sex.
Amazing, fantastic, mind-blowing sex that Trey still wanted to happen again, despite everything.
“I’m a special kind of idiot,” he said to the boxes of liquor bottles.
He reread Dominic’s text. Pixels on a screen. Not a real apology.
Fuck you and your lies,he texted back.
Dominic wouldn’t see it until their first set break, but it had felt good to type.
The door creaked open. Danielle entered, her face more sad than angry. “I knew he looked familiar when I saw him today,” she said.
“We were really good together, Dani.”
She sat with him, and he told her about their day. The pizza, the sex, the music, all of it. With each word, Trey’s anger shrank,replaced by grief. He’d lost something big today, something irreplaceable.
“I’m so sorry.” Dani hugged him, her strong embrace exactly what he needed. “Want me to punch him in the nuts for you?”
“No, but thanks.” Trey liked the guy’s nuts too much to see them damaged, because Danielle would hit Dom if he asked her to. She was that kind of best friend. “I guess I should man up and go back out there.”
“I won’t tell Bobby, I swear.”
“Thanks.” Trey could only imagine what Dominic had probably told his friends about him. About how he’d fucked Trey in the ass, then fucked him and his band over.
Asswipe.
He got the liquor he needed, and Danielle followed him back to the floor. The band was in the middle of a decent cover of “Losing My Religion.” Their lead vocal, Benji, had a pretty great voice, and he knew how to play to a crowd.
Trey got back to work, ignoring the stage and anything to do with the band on it. After their first set, Lincoln announced a ten-minute break and they’d be back. Bobby got off his stool. Danielle tugged him back.
Any kind of confrontation was better left until the performance was done.
His phone buzzed with a text.
I didn’t lie. When I figured it out I wanted to tell you but I’m so damn attracted to you. Wanted more time w/ you. I’m sorry.
Trey’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. He wanted to say it was okay, that they could still be friends, but how could they? He was attracted to Dominic like crazy, and he was addicted to playing duets with him. But they were doomed from the start.
He typed back:Leave me alone.
And instantly regretted the text. He didn’t want Dominic to leave him alone, but XYZ was the enemy.
Dominic was the enemy.
An enemy who played Trey’s body as expertly as he played his violin.
A few folks came over to chat with Bobby and Danielle, probably asking about Tyson’s defection. Trey ignored it and washed drink glasses and shakers. He filled the ice again. Time passed, and then XYZ was back onstage. Trey hated to admit it, but they were good. Really good. Competitively good.
He glanced at the stage during a rousing rendition of “Grenade.” His gaze homed in on Dominic, whose golden skin glistened from the heat of the stage lights. He played without looking at the keys, but he didn’t seem to be looking out at the audience. His focus was on his bandmates. And he wasn’t smiling.
Trey wanted him to smile. To show off those adorable dimples and bright white teeth. To laugh, because Dominic’s laughter was one of the most beautiful melodies he’d ever heard.
