“It’s Benji’s. Or his parents’, I guess. They did a lot of camping when he was a kid.” Dominic walked so fucking close that their elbows could have easily brushed. “I’m glad my parents had an air mattress I could borrow, because I hate sleeping on the ground.”
“But fucking on the ground is good, right?” Trey flashed to his bedroom three weeks prior, on his hands and knees for Dominic.
Dominic flashed him a knowing grin. “Definitely. It is so hard to keep my hands off you right now.”
“Ditto.” Dominic looked amazing in khaki shorts and a white sleeveless tee with a rainbow heart on it. The white showed off his lickable copper skin, which was shining with perspiration from the midday heat. Trey kept his voice low. “We have got to find a way to spend time together while we’re here. Not even sex, if we can’t, but, you know, talking.”
Dominic’s warm smile gave Trey funny belly wobbles. “Absolutely. Maybe if Lincoln and Bobby call a truce, we can at least openly be friends while we’re here.”
“I don’t know. Bobby holds grudges like no one I’ve ever met.”
“Well, I get being mad at Tyson for dropping you guys like he did. I mean, that wasn’t cool at all. But Linc made a business decision when he asked Tyson to join us. It wasn’t personal. We weren’t trying to sabotage you on purpose.”
Trey shifted his cooler to his other hand. “I believeyouweren’t.”
“You think Linc was?”
“I don’t know him at all but the guy’s intense.”
“He always has been. It’s how he’s survived the last six years on his own.”
Trey got that. He knew about survival. But there was protecting yourself, and then there was being an asshole. He wasn’t entirely sure which one Lincoln fell under. Probably a combination of the two, heavy on the asshole.
They passed through the talent gate and into the main lot. Trey stared at the colorful lines of tents and food trucks nearby, advertising all kinds of food, beverage, and alcohol companies. A few restaurants, both chain and small business. Even farther back were tents of people selling wares—Unbound goodies, locally made shit, crafts, posters, artwork. It was like a flea market had landed next to the grandstand building stage.
Even though the festival didn’t officially start until five o’clock, the field was thick with wandering patrons.
Dominic led him to tent hawking Gatorade products and charmed a pretty girl into filling their coolers with ice. Then he got permission for them to leave the coolers for a while so they could look around.
Trey really wanted to hold Dominic’s hand, but even if he was out to the general public, he wasn’t sure if he’d be brave enough to do that in a setting featuring every color of the rainbow—skin, orientation, and political. Dudes in camo milled around with hipsters and goths.
“Want something to drink?” Dominic asked.
He glanced around the various tents. According to the festival rules, anyone under twenty-one had to wear a yellow bracelet put on by staff at the main gate. The rule hadn’t been applied to the talent so far, and Trey’s birthday wasn’t until next week. Maybe his talent badge would get him special service.
One tent was advertising something called an Unbound Bomb that looked slushy and blended, so Trey ordered one of those. Dominic did the same and paid for both. The red drink came in a plastic cup shaped like a round, cartoonish bomb, complete with a black straw as the fuse. It tasted like watermelon, lime, and rum.
They shopped around the tents while they drank their bombs, and after a while Trey noticed they were getting frequent looks, mostly from women. Probably more for Dominic than him, but yeah, they were pretty hot together. Dominic was that guy everyone ogled, because he was fucking gorgeous.
And he wanted Trey.
Trey stopped at a booth to watch a woman paint words onto grains of rice with the tiniest brush he’d ever seen. She put the grains into tiny glass capsules, and attached the capsules to lengths of cord. Necklaces hung in rows on a wall of hooks,each bearing a white tag with the specific word on it. Dozens of names, as well as words like “faith,” “love,” “joy,” “peace,” and “heart.”
“These are amazing,” he said.
“Thank you,” the artist said. “I do requests.”
Trey filed that away for the future.
Eventually he tossed his empty bomb cup, the alcohol and the weed brownie doing wonders to settle his nerves over tomorrow’s performance. He kind of wanted to take a nap, but he liked walking around with Dominic too much to go back to the trailer.
Dominic’s phone rang. He grimaced at the screen. “Shit, it’s Linc. And we’ve been gone over an hour.” He swiped at the call. “Hey . . . yeah, we’re heading back. We got attacked by a bunch of raving fans.” He winked at Trey.
Trey snorted, then steered them back toward the Gatorade tent to fetch the coolers.
“No, I’m not bringing you a funnel cake,” Dominic said. “Go get one yourself, asshole, I have a heavy cooler of ice to lug.” He shoved his phone back in his pocket. “Guess this is over.”
“Guess so.”
